Hey, just wanted to share that I, Savage Wade (a.k.a. The Furry Detective), saved Thanksgiving in Pawsburg by sniffing out a mischievous raccoon turned festive saboteur. Ended up turning an act of treason into a tale of unity. Now we’re all basking in the parade’s success and a raccoon’s redemption. 🐾🦃🎉 – Savage

Listen to the story here

As the first rays of dawn peeked over the rooftops of Pawsburg, I, Savage Wade, awoke with a sense of anticipation tingling in my bones. The town had been abuzz for weeks, preparations for the annual Thanksgiving Day parade sprawling into every corner. Yet, as I stretched my athletic limbs and shook the vestiges of sleep from my snowy coat, there was no mistaking the unease that hung in the air.

I trotted past Quartz Qimmiq Quarter, the brindle spots on my back barely visible in the muted light. The streets were unusually empty for this hour. My chestnut eyes caught a flicker of movement by Kelpie Keys—the latest float, a majestic turkey with golden feathers, was torn apart. Feathers were strewn across the cobblestones like a memento of Thanksgiving feasts past.

“Another sabotage,” I muttered under my breath, the fur on my back rising.

There had been a series of them, each more brazen than the last. I scanned the surroundings, the detective in me on high alert. Pawsburg was a magical sanctuary, but not even enchantments could deter a heart set on malice.

I headed to Doggie Diner to gather my comrades and formulate a plan over steaming bowls of chicken broth—the only bribe strong enough to get Whiskers the tabby out of bed before midday. As we convened, the taste of betrayal was in the air, heavier than the rich aroma that usually filled the place.

“Savage, what’s the lead?” Buddy questioned, his voice gravelled with age.

“I reckon it’s an inside job,” I said, the deep pools of my eyes reflecting the gravity of our situation.

Buddy nodded slowly, his experience as a raconteur coming to the fore. “An act born of bitterness, perhaps?”

Whiskers purred, her presence an anomaly in our all-dog town. “Let’s sniff around. Desperation leaves a scent.”

Taking Whiskers’ advice, we embarked on our mission, scouring every location for clues. From Akita Alley to Dachshund’s Deli, where I defiantly refused the oranges laid out as samples, we scoured Pawsburg.

Unexpectedly, it was within the extravagant dressing rooms of Canine Couture Clothing where we found the first real clue—a paw-print smeared in fabric paint amongst torn sashes and ribbons.

“That’s the same paint they used on the Butterball float,” Whiskers pointed out, her green eyes gleaming with cunning.

Tracking the prints led us to the edge of town, where the real surprise awaited. The saboteur wasn’t a dog, but rather a resentful raccoon named Romulus, who was abandoned by his group for his lack of foraging skills.

“You dogs always have food, fun, and friends,” he spat out, the hurt unmistakable in his voice. “I just wanted a piece of that Thanksgiving for myself.”

The story could’ve ended there, with Romulus being run off. But those chestnut eyes of mine saw something, a shimmering thread of possibility that Thanksgiving wasn’t merely about parades but about inclusion.

So, in an act that carried the true essence of the day, we pardoned Romulus, inviting him to join us. His nimble paws helped reassemble the shredded decorations, repurposing his skills from destruction to creation.

The parade was more than just a success; it was a jubilation of bonds renewed and formed. As Pawsburg came together, including the reformed Romulus, I knew our thankfulness was for the unity in our diversity, the richness in sharing our lives.

Later, as I lounged in the now-peaceful Quartz Qimmiq Quarter, I tossed my well-loved rope toy, contemplating the lessons we’d learned. Thanksgiving isn’t about fanfare—it’s about opening your heart, sharing your victories, and sometimes your chicken broth, with those who thought they had neither a place nor a plate at the table. Amity and compassion, that, my dear reader, is the secret favorite thing of this dog named Savage Wade.

The End.