Hey hooman, it’s Pepper, the Sherlock Bones of Pawsburg! 🕵️‍♀️🐾 Just cracked the Case of the Missing Beagle – turned into a full-blown rescue op with Luna & Pablo. Benny got his nose trapped in a sausage snare (classic Benny antics 😂). We pulled off an epic escape mission. Your girl Pepper led the fur brigade to victory! Now home, claiming my throne of chew toys. 🏡👑 Bark at you later! 🐶✨ – Pepper P.P.

Listen to the story here

Upon one sun-drenched day in Pawsburg, I ascended the plush hillock of Diamond Doberman Dunes, brought unto contemplation by a most peculiar absence. ‘Twas not the sun that stirred my concerns, nor the usual playmates in cavorting revelry about Pomeranian Park. It was, in point of fact, the lack of scuffling noise from a certain Benny the Beagle.

“Benny!” I had barked, assertive, yet tinged with the ghost of worry. “Show yourself! This is not a day to skulk about!”

The sole response: an exasperating silence that licked my ears like an unwanted bath. I frolicked not amidst the golden sands that day; for my friend’s whereabouts became my solitary preoccupation.

Turning from the desolate Dunes, I pondered the predicament over a scone at the Barking BBQ, a promenade away from The Doggy Depot—a veritable treasure trove for the canine populace. Pablo the parrot flew onto the table, cracking the quietude with his infernal mimicry. “Pepper! B-b-benny!” he squawked, evoking a snort of amusement from yours truly.

“Luna ought to silence your comedy,” I grumbled. “You’ve got more squawk than a hen on a hot griddle. But listen close, you feathered mimic, Benny’s gone head over paws – missing!”

The mirth morphed to concern upon his gaudy beak. “Gone? But where to?”

“To that, I’m as wise as a pup to her first bone. I require your sharp beak and Luna’s grace.” A plot was hatching, fertile as the Pyrenean Peak after a soft rain.

A council of furry and feathered friends convened in The Pawfect Training Center, and oh how the millennials would have expressed their incredulity on social media had they seen our clandestine gathering. Amidst a conspiracy of whispers and strategic murmurings, our mission was amassed. Benny had been last seen gallivanting towards the alley by Fido’s Feast, where sausages hung like bountiful vines in tantalizing temptation.

We slunk through the alleys of Pawsburg with precision worthy of an epic’s ballad. Paws met cobblestone with nary a whisper of sound; eyes sharp and ears pricked for our wayward Beagle.

Our quartet reached the back of Fido’s Feast, and there ’twas the sight – our Benny ensnared within the Beagle-trap. A container sprung shut, no doubt at the allure of stolen sausage. Poor Benny, thief of hearts and eater of troubles, consigned to a hapless fate!

The heist commenced. Luna’s svelte body slipped beneath the cage with ease, her silent maneuvre as seamless as a catwave. Meanwhile, Pablo provided the incessant distraction. “B-b-benny! Fresh bone! B-b-benny!” he screeched, while I pried at the metal bars with a stick fetched from Pomeranian Park.

The roller coaster minutes waned to the brink of eternity, whilst we jimmied and jostled the contraption. Success, when it came, burst forth like the banks of a river breached. Freedom for our friend! Benny bounded forth, with affections so earnest and eyes aglow with the jest of his escapade.

I led our motley band home, swelling with the triumph of nations, my stuffed hedgehog of dreams tucked under one solid limb. Unto my nook I returned—tired, true, but glowing with a tale to rival the saints and heroes of olde.

For, in the end, what tale could burgeon bright but that of Pepper Pots and her gallant gladiators in our very own Pawsburg, a bastion of canine freedom and fertile ground for legend?

The End.