“Hey folks,

Straight from the horse’s…er, dog’s mouth! Starved off a citrus crisis last night – seems Charlie was back at his old tricks, snatching up our breakfast from Paws-A-Latte. Put on my detective cap and solved the citrusy mystery with Ralph and Daisy (and my citrus phobia of course!). Pawsburg’s again safe (and filled with pancakes!). Time for a breakfast feast, don’t you think?

Tails up,

Blanche aka The Citrus Sleuth.”

Listen to the story here

“Oh yeah, we all know the part where you’re snuggled into your snug-a-bug rug and your humans have drifted to dreamland, and you…yes, you…Commence Operation Pawsburg Adventure!” I wagged my tail to the rhythm of my thoughts, staring at Ralph’s familiar Cheshire-grin through my window, while Daisy, flaunting her myriad of spots, beckoned me with her eyes that twinkled like a thousand diamonds in the twilight across the seamless, dark lawn.

“Trust me, one needs a pinch of drama in life.” I bustled over the lawn, aiming for Lower Silver Siberian Summit. “Blanche, away!” My eyes darted around for the feline stalker. Nada. Peace at last.

But where too much peace exists, my friends, chaos isn’t living far behind. And chaos had a physical representation in Pawsburg.

“Alright, everybody, huddle up!” Ralph called out, and a meeting ensued at Labradoodle Lake, the murmurs of evening critters crescendoing under the vibrant Pawsburg neon lights.

I squinted. It’s not like we’re discussing where to get breakfast. Or so I thought.

“Listen,” Ralph growled, a slight panic in his voice, “Paws-A-Latte, Sniff ‘n’ Snack and Pawsome Pancakes have been broken into. The supplies stolen. Shelves are bare!”

I gasped. Those were the crime hotspots of the infamous Charlie, the citrus-obsessed criminal. And Charlie was back. “But…but…our breakfast!” I squeaked. Can a lady not eat in peace? Nobody takes breakfast grapes away from Mindy, right?

Clocking Daisy’s horrified face, Ralph’s anxious eyes, and the general dog-down mood, I knew it, then and there. “Well then, it’s down to us to get to the bottom of this citrusy mystery.” Bouncing around in my cloak of valiance wasn’t about fearlessness alone; it was about upholding the tranquility of our treasured town, Pawsburg. And frankly, a gal’s got to eat.

From the grand shopping districts of the Barking Boutique, we foxtrotted across town, sniffing for clues and sneaking into Charlie’s familiar haunts. Eyes widened in shock, we stood by Canine Couture Clothing’s window display – a pile of citrus skins. “Charlie!” I growled, my own foodie preferences offending my snout violently. Calling in my notorious citrus phobia as a weapon, I was ready.

In the end, it was quick. Daisy cornered Charlie within the bowels of The Pooch Playhouse, and Ralph managed to drag him to the Greyhound Grove, with me at their heels. Pawsburg breathed a sigh of relief that night as we managed to recover our stolen breakfast, restoring harmony once again.

“And it was all possible because Blanche here, of all dogs, is not a citrus lover.” Ralph winked, amidst the hearty laughter that erupted.

Sweet victory, amidst the echo of my name amongst my favorite bulldogs. A fun night indeed, sprinkled with a dash of crime-solving, topped with the satisfaction no deflated football could match. Pawsburg sleeps again, knowing that its sneaky but golden-hearted protectors’ watch is unbroken.

Now, time for pancakes. Let’s go, Ralph and Daisy! Happy tails and a brighter Pawsburg, at the crack of dawn. After all, breakfast waits for no one!

The End.