“Hey, Mom & Dad! It’s your Bear Cub here. Thought paradise would be all belly scratches, beach trips, and tasty chews, but Spencerville’s proving to be more film noir than rom-com if you know what I mean. Found myself in a bit of a ruff-ly intriguing plot. This Newfie’s paws might be dirty, but his heart remains golden. New trick? Fetching answers instead of balls, bringing justice to the streets. Worth it? Let’s let the tail-wagging decide. Hugs and slobbery dog kisses, -Your favorite pupper, Bear Cub 🐾”

“Wake up, Vincent!” I nudged myself back to consciousness, aware of a peculiar stillness swirling around. My paws throbbing, my tongue thirsting for that special dental bone.

Spencerville, the paradise for us dogs departing, yet I was no mere guest, but the hard-nosed Newfoundland, Vincent. Scruffy white coat smeared black, more freckles than dad could count. I was the one they whispered about– the big lug with a noggin sharper than any dog on Husky Hill.

“Good Morning Vincent,” Princess Victoria trotted over, drooping Saint Bernard eyes mopey. Sis had rustled up something, disrupting the tranquil calm I usually relished. Spencerville was meant to be my saloon, only it wasn’t the sandy deserts or loamy farms I was used to, but Pup-Tizers and Doggy Donuts looming large.

“We got a job,” Victoria muttered, dropping an ominous envelope written only in a human’s scrawl. I was no fan of work, mind you. More a long, lazy ride or a romp at a beach-kind of guy. Yet, something prompted me forth. The challenge? The opportunity? Maybe stubborn-streak old Vincent wasn’t accustomed to the beach after all.

“No more scattering contents Vincent,” She wagged a finger, “We ain’t got time for your pasta-and-flour playtime.”

Awfully dull, this place. Fetch! Toys and Treats? The Pawfect Training Center? Had I been drawn into some kind of conspiracy? Might just be the ticket to spice up my otherwise, righteous life—no more pet peeves to poke, no more noise to avoid. And maybe, just maybe, I’d still find a moment to laze around in Maltese Meadow between cases.

Musing over my strange existence, the stream of my consciousness brimming with dares and curiosity far surpassed the promised serenity of Spencerville. If paradise was this damn boring, maybe Vincent was cut out to be more than a beach-combing, couch-loving Newfie. The city needed a saviour, and I was just the dog for the job.

Some might call this unusual, a dog forgoing paradise for organized crime. But for me.. For me, it was just another walk in the park… only unlike any park I’d strolled before.

The End.