Hey buddy, ventured to Pawsburg, moonlit spots and all, survived the bacon temptation, romped around the Retriever River & toy shops, and now on a detective’s tail, er, trail for our missing Maine Coon, Mr. Whiskers. PS. Nightly romps just got noir! – Your Great Dane, Jasper

Listen to the story here

One chilly winter’s night when Jeffrey was out on business and the moon hung low over that cozy red-brick cottage on Aspen Lane, I, Jasper, decided to slip out from within the warm confines of my abode. Oh, don’t look so surprised, you’ve keenly deduced my dislike for the cold, but hey, some breadcrumbs of bravery had indeed fallen from Jeffrey’s table to mine. So there I was, my grand Dalmatian-esque spots maybe reflecting a little moonlight, just maybe, as I galloped my way to the enchanting town of Pawsburg.

As I trotted down the clandestine trails only we dogs knew, the wind carried with it the aromatic waft of bacon from The Fetching Deli. It whetted my appetite something fierce, matched only by the memory of Jeffrey’s bacon. Aah, the taste of crisped strips danced on my tongue. But a Great Dane’s gotta watch his waist, or so they say.

I made a beeline for Southern Golden Retriever River, giving the Bone Appetit a longing, sideways glance. The river had the perfect ratio of mischief to tranquility, just like my buddy Todd, the bustling Beagle. He’d be breaking records, making laps around Spotted Red Beagle Beach. But, boy, you haven’t really seen tongue-wagging happiness until you’ve seen a Beagle burn off that boundless energy.

Pawsburg shone in its midnight glory, sprinkled with shops that glowed like jewels against the dark blanket of the night. Driven by my secret love for baseball bats, I pondered making a stop at Fetch! Toys and Treats or The Fetching Feline Pet Emporium … believe it or not, the former was more inclined towards frisbees and the latter held treasures any dog would drool for.

As I loomed nearing the East Bulldog Bay, the town’s biggest mystery awaited me – Mr. Whiskers’ peculiar disappearance. A moody Maine Coon, he was, but without him, Pawsburg felt a little less… ‘gritty’. His whims and fancies held a charm that lured us into an alliance. It’s ironic, ’cause Pawsburg was turning more orange with every sunrise and the tangy smell was beginning to tickle my nose incessantly.

So, it was up to me, Jasper the jovially stubborn Great Dane, to nose around and sniff out this feline mystery. Yeah, call it an ambitious endeavor, my friends laughing at this unusual Great Dane’s pursuit of a cat. But if a dash of noir wasn’t there to dust my nightly romps to Pawsburg, you wouldn’t be here, hanging on to my every word, would you?

The End.