Hey Mom,

Guess what? Had crazy adventure with my buddies. Found Vegas’s poker chips on beach. Then, saw our fav chicken place was a crime scene (gulp!). Seemed like work of Squirrel Syndicate. Initiated ‘counter-nut strategy’ to get to the bottom of this. Many secret meetings and lots of detective work later, we ended their trouble-making reign. Chicken shop reopened and we celebrated big! Morale of my tale: “Always bet on the underdog!”
Woof, woof!

– Lucky

The day had barely broken when I found myself strolling down Brown Boxer Beach with Vegas, Sinatra and Fat Russell, the unlikely trio of Spencervillian misfits. Vegas, spirits high as always, chased the frothy sea waves while Sinatra and Fat Russell lagged behind, lazily barking at passing seagulls. A regular morning in our paradise… until we noticed something strange. A pack of poker chips tossed by the sea – Vegas’s favourite, and just across, Furrific Fried Chicken’s kitchen screen shattered.

I dug into the gooey wet sand for the familiar rubber poker chips. “Vegas, got your nose in a bind?” I asked, holding up the damp, sandy chips, and she just stared – an unusual solemnity replacing her typical enthusiasm. That was the first whiff.

We made our way to Furrific Fried Chicken, taking in the unusual silence. The place was a crime scene, cordoned by a red crime tape. The aroma of baked chicken and waffles still filled the air, a brutal reminder of normalcy.

“Do you think it’s the Squirrel Syndicate?” Sinatra whispered, the words heavy with worry. The Squirrel Syndicate, Spencerville’s staunch vegans, were notorious troublemakers who’d have rather given up their supply of nuts than see a chicken fry. I nodded, with Vegas still sitting unnaturally quiet.

Later, over Paws-A-Latte cappuccinos and Doggy Donuts doughnuts, we mulled things over. We realized we’d unwittingly embarked on our mission – to free Spencerville of this crime quickly and unnoticed, much like Vegas’s dislike for the farm or her abhorrence for tofu – quiet but intense.

The following weeks were a whirl. We had our secret meetings at the back of The Woofy Bakery to develop our ‘counter-nut strategy’. Fat Russell had his contacts throughout the dog walking circuits of Happy Hounds, which proved fruitful. We identified clandestine hideouts – one right under our noses, at Western Fawn Pug Palace.

As days turned into nights, then back into days, our camaraderie and commitment never waned. Vegas’s conviction shone through, her fight against illegality was as unrelenting as her displeasure for the vet. We never really chose this life – it was a card dealt by fate, but we played it, standing up against crime, just like Vegas would relentlessly chase after her rubber poker chips.

Soon, the Squirrel Syndicate was outsmarted and overthrown, their reign of terror ended, and Furrific reopened with a grand buffet. Vegas was largely to thank – her endless energy driving us. As we celebrated at the grand reopening meal, under the brilliance of the Spencerville moon, Vegas, Sinatra and Fat Russell devoured their shrimp cocktails, the rightful heroes of our tale. And, as Vegas would tell us, “in the face of organized crime… always bet on the underdog!”

The End.