“Hey Mom, had one bonkers day! Woke up to great weather, was about to brunch but tripped into a doggone spy situation instead. Found a letter with classified info near the hardware store! Now, I’m tangled up in international canine espionage with Bonkers(eternally trouble-bound Terrier)! Wish me luck, espionage roars louder than any vacuum. Licks, Millie.”

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“I’m tellin’ ya, a more gorgeous morning in Pawsburg you couldn’t fabricate even if you channeled the old masters themselves,” I remember murmuring to myself. It was the kind of day that makes the wettest of dog noses twitch with anticipation.

I could see the Eastern White Westie Woods on the horizon, illuminated by a zephyr of dawn light. My stomach growled, channeling its own dawn rebellion. Down the quaint cobbled streets, beyond the Pawsburg Central Park – which might as well be renamed ‘Millie’s Playground’ for all the time I spend rollicking there – lay the enticing aromas of Kibble Cuisine.

“I reckon it’s time for some breakfast,” I said to Sid Sloth, who looked back at me with his usual nonchalant expression. Not wanting to push the good graces of my sunny disposition, I sauntered down the main street, past The Fetching Deli. There comes a time when a dog has to take a stand for chicken. Today was that day.

What I hadn’t counted on was tripping paw first into an international canine conspiracy. As I was sniffing around the Howling Husky Hardware Store, I picked up the scent of something decidedly un-hardware. It was the subtly floral, distinct aroma of wet ink and classified information. This wasn’t typical Pawsburg, this was the stuff that made even the hairs on my merle coat stand on end.

Intrigue was begging for a tango but I had two left feet, and yet, I couldn’t help it when I found a neatly sealed envelope under a rusty tin canister. With my name, not codename, just plain ‘Millie’ written in an over-the-top cursive. Being a dog of opportunity, I clasped it between my jaws and decided to high tail it to East Pug Palace where my old friend Bonkers, a wire-haired terrier with a knack for trouble and beating 007 at his own game, was staying.

“Bonkers, I need your meine!” I yapped urgently. Sid looked at the envelope, then at me and said in his slow, measured tone, “Millie, this, is the superbowl of international espionage. This is big.”

As I made my way into the heart of Pawsburg, a thought crossed my mind. I detest vacuums, and the fearsome roar of espionage closely resembles that. But there’s something to be said for the good-hearted Bulldogge who finds herself in a bind and makes the most out of it, right? Buckle up, Pawsburg, there’s a new spy in town and she’s got a bone to pick.

The End.