Hey Mama,

Just wrapped up another night in Pawsburgh, turning into quite the Sherlock Bones here! Nosed through some drama at Pup’s Poutine and stared down my own shadow in a tail of mystery! Don’t worry though, all’s well and I’m back to your loving lap for the night. Sweet dreams from your tireless tail-wagger,

Preach 🐾✨

Listen to the story here

It was an evening cloaked in the usual tranquility of affection with Mama, when my ears pricked up to the soft hum of Pawsburgh’s call—a siren song for the nocturnally furry and four-legged. “Farewell,” I whispered to Mama’s unknowing slumber, my paw poised on the ledge of the open window.

I felt rather like a detective as I absentmindedly chewed on Lamb Chop while skulking through Akita Alley—the whisper of my own thoughts the only sound breaking the night. My dear companion bore the wear of many secrets and confessions, its stuffed ears ever so saggy from all it had heard. Tonight, our quest was for revelation of a deeper kind—Pawsburgh had summoned me for a reason. A breeze carried scents of intrigue and whispers of malfeasance through the Emerald Eskimo Estuary, and I felt a ripple in my otherwise serene demeanor.

Akita Alley gave way to the sandy expanse of Diamond Doberman Dunes, a place as misleading in appearance as a well-dressed rogue. It was here among the sculpted dunes that I detected the first clue—the scent of fear, acrid and sour, an uninvited guest among the waves of sea salt and freedom.

I trotted with purpose, my heart drumming a rhythm of apprehensive excitement. Husky’s Hotcakes lay ahead, the aroma of syrup and batter now entwined with the subtle scent of distress I had caught in the dunes. I always did prefer the savory heaven of Bark Buffet, but something told me that batter had a tale to tell tonight.

My muzzle hovered above the ground as I approached the eatery, reading the stories told by the myriad of paw prints. Suddenly, the hustle and bustle of the dog park echoed emptily in my mind. I missed the chaos, the camaraderie, even the disdainful gazes of Goose, Buddy, and Rose—they’d never understand the allure of the dog’s world, though they were civil companions otherwise.

“A scent out of place?” a voice noted from behind. I turned to see Rose, her feline eyes gleaming with unnatural curiosity. Social boundaries had always been suggestions, rather than rules to us.

“Rain’s the thief tonight, stealing clarity,” I replied, tension coiling beneath my fur. Indeed, the incoming rain threatened to wash away the threads I chased.

With the softest of paw steps, I followed the fading trail to The Pawfect Training Center. It was here that I unearthed the crux of this nocturne—Pup’s Poutine, the diner where the victim’s delight met demise. The missing link in a chain of whispers and doubt, a place once bursting with laughter and tail-wagging now held secrets within its empty booths.

The bell above the door jingled as I entered, my wit firing, piecing together the story from splattered condiments and overturned chairs. Then, the figure emerged from the shadows—a black Labrador, the mirror image of someone I knew intimately.

There stood a villain with my very visage, a doppelgänger born from darkness. A psychological dance commenced. We circled, souls bared, truth and deceit intermingling like the scents of an early-morning park.

“You’re no detective,” it snarled. “Merely a dog, out of his depth.”

“Oh, but that’s where you err,” I countered, my calm a well-practiced cloak. “For what better sleuth than one who sniffs out deceit as if it were a hidden treat?”

The confrontation came as quickly as it began, and the impostor vanished into the genesis of a storm. The mystery had woven itself neatly around, solving with the elegance of a purr.

I returned to Mama’s side, the secrets of the night laced within my silent bark. Her gentle hand, unknowing, brushed over my fur—a comforting epilogue to the dark tales of Pawsburgh’s heart.

The End.