Yo 😎🍗

Just had the wildest night saving Pawsburgh’s banquet from being bone-dry! Turned detective, sniffed out a chicken caper, went paw-to-paw with a Doberman, and won! Hero? Maybe. Hungry? Definitely. Catch you at the feast!

Sir Duncan “Hero Hound” Donut 🐾🍩

Listen to the story here

One of those nights, Pawsburgh whispered adventure – and I couldn’t help but answer. There was a whiff of chicken in the air, a siren call I couldn’t resist. Amidst the tangy zephyr which I abhor, the aroma was pure bliss. I slipped through the flap and tasted freedom.

Archie was already waiting by the gate, tail sweeping the air, the Mustang to my Bullitt. “You’re late,” he drawled, always one to undercut the urgency.

“This nose doesn’t have a snooze button.” Snapping back quick-fire retorts felt good. “To the Chicken Caper?”

“To the caper,” he agreed. We set off, meandering as only canines can, through the park, the docks, and then the heart of Pawsburgh.

That’s when we saw it – The Pawsburgh Poultry Predicament Poster plastered on every lamppost, like a scene straight from an old detective movie. There was trouble; a whole truck of chicken, gone, right before the Great Spaniel Banquet. “An inside job, you think?” Archie’s inquiry was pointed.

“Hits too close to home,” I admitted. And I meant it; I loved chicken, sure, but thievery? That was feline behavior.

We trotted past Chowhound’s Chophouse and Hound’s Hotdogs, the former rich with the aromas I craved, masking my ability to track. But it wasn’t about the hunger; it was about the heart-pounding thrill of the chase, getting to the bottom of the Mystery of the Missing Meats.

Under the shadow of Malamute Mountain, we paused. I breathed in deep, the thrum of excitement mixing with the taste of the quest, Squeaky clutched in my jaws for good luck. “Duncan,” Archie’s voice had an edge, “this could get rough.”

Turning to him, I channeled my best Harrison Ford, a wry grin spreading wide. “Never tell me the odds.”

That’s when Sparrows sauntered out, as if on cue. “Looking for this?” She dangled a key, a golden shimmer in the moonlight. I nodded to Archie, the silent exchange speaking volumes. “The dunes,” I said, keeping my voice even.

Sure enough, as we crested the top of Diamond Doberman Dunes, the truck materialized like a mirage. “A hideout high enough for a hawk’s eye view,” Sparrows purred, almost impressed.

“Diamond in the ruff,” I quipped, Squeaky still held firm. My paws sunk into the sand, lowering my center of gravity. This was it, the rush!

We crept closer, three musketeers minus the swords but just as sharp. The truck’s rear doors were ajar, flapping like the wings of a disoriented dove.

The plan was simple: In, investigate, and return the goods before a feather could float to the ground. But the simple plans are the ones that go to the dogs, right?

As we leapt into the truck, a shadow lunged. A Doberman, large and imposing, his growl a guttural challenge. “Not on my watch,” he chided, barring our way.

Heart in throat, I stood my ground — ’cause heroes aren’t heroes without a villain to bark down. I thought of the banquet, of the wagging tails, and the feast they’d miss. “You’re barking up the wrong tree. We’re here for justice.”

A tense standoff, pulses pounding – our own little western showdown. A brilliant narrative, if I do say so myself.

Outgunned but not outsmarted, I employed the one weapon I had. The Doberman’s eyes caught a glint of Squeaky, my most treasured possession, my voice clear. “Fetch!”

He lunged, I dodged. The chicken crates were right there. Archie barked, a signal, and we moved. Grabbing what we could, we made the escape, our hearts racing faster than our paws could carry us.

Back at Setter Shore, we returned the chicken with minutes to spare. Heroes of the hour, tails wagging high. We laughed, triumph in our wake, the night retreating like a villain who knows when he’s licked.

It was just another night in Pawsburgh, this magical town with its silent promises and whispering adventures that called to canines keen enough to listen. And me, Sir Duncan Donut? I just saved dinner, and a story for the ages.

The End.