Hey Mom,

Guess what? I channeled my inner Sherlock Bones today and solved the Case of the Missing Collar at Pawsburg! Spoiler: It involved a dashy Dachshund and a mix-up with a love-struck Schnauzer. But don’t worry, I kept my snout clean and the town’s tails wagging. Detective Frenchie strikes again!

Hugs and belly rubs,
Frenchie 🐾✨

Listen to the story here

Well, my dear friend, let me tell you about the time I became Frenchie of Pawsburg, the furry sleuth with a nose not for tracking scents, but for sniffing out the peculiar mysteries of our magical canine metropolis.

It began as any other sunny afternoon at Schnauzer Street. I ambled down the boulevard, my wrinkled contemplative face soaking in the ambrosial air that smelled intriguingly of Setter’s Steakhouse sizzling steaks. Suddenly a commotion stirred at The Barking Boutique, a favorite haunt for the local fashion-forward pups. The ruckus curled my whiskers. You see, a cherished treasure of Pawsburg had vanished – a diamond-studded collar, bespoke and shinier than the morning dew on our human’s perfectly pruned backyard lawn.

Lucky for The Barking Boutique, my penchant for leisurely strolls had recently dovetailed with my newfound hobby of solving enigmas. In I strutted, with a determination that belied my typically languid demeanor. While Max, with his adventure-hunter gaze, would have sniffed the ground for clues, or Bella, with her methodical grace, would have calmly interrogated witnesses, I relied instead on the soulful observation afforded by my soft eyes, the ones you always say “see right through to the heart of the matter.”

“My dear Frenchie, thank goodness!” Mrs. Poodle behind the counter panted. Her usual impeccable curls were in disarray, a sure sign of distress in Pawsburg.

Through whispers and whimpers, I pieced together the tail – I mean, tale. The collar was last seen adorning the mannequin by the window, a spot that basked in the limelight of Pawprint Pizzeria’s neon sign across the street. Now, however, it was bare as a hotdog bun without the sausage.

“Ruff day?” quipped a familiar, feline voice. Gizmo, who’d followed my trail from Canine Kabobs, his nonchalant saunter in stark contrast to the concern-furrowed brows around us.

“Another one for my piggy toy if we don’t solve this,” I joked back. I had a reputation to uphold – I wasn’t about to let down my comrades, not when the stakes involved a garnish of juicy gossip to go with our chicken and pumpkin bites later.

My investigation began – a footfall here, a sniff there. The warp and woof of Pawsburg were in our favor; it was impossible here for a bone to be buried without someone knowing where the dig was.

The breakthrough came as we romped past Eskimo Estuary, its waters reflecting Samoyed Square’s elegant contours. There, mid-frolic, came a glint – not from the water, but from beneath Rebarka’s, the shy Schnauzer’s collar.

Cross my heart, she hadn’t taken it – Rebarka was honest as a Lab on a leash, but her new admirer, a Dachshund named Diego, was a notorious flirt and a gift giver. His love for grand gestures had outdone him this time.

Detective work, I mused as I lay my claim to another nosh-worthy tale, was like a stroll in the park – rather, a stroll through Pawsburg. It was about connecting the patches, much like those on my stout brown and white fur, to reveal a much larger, livelier picture.

The relieved woofs of The Barking Boutique’s Mrs. Poodle were music to my floppy ears as I returned with my crew in tow, the diamond-studded collar safe and stunning as ever.

There, amid the pats and cheers, I realized the true allure of Pawsburg wasn’t just the secrets and adventures. It was the heartwarming feeling you get when everyone woofs your name, and the fact that however juicy the steak, it was the solving of a meaty puzzle that truly satisfied.

The End.