Hey Jenn,

Cracked the case wide open last night! Tangled with The Carnivore Cabal, and served some tail-wagging justice on the docks. Pawsburgh sleeps safe thanks to yours truly and Boomer. Headed home for celebratory belly rubs. 🐾

Catch you at sunrise,
Sim 🐕✨

Listen to the story here

It was a drizzly morning in Pawsburgh, the kind that dampened the streets but not the spirits of its clandestine canine citizens. I stood on Sapphire Schnauzer Street, my tan and white fur barely stirring in the breeze. I shook my head to adjust my uneven ears and scanned the scene with my autumn leaf eyes.

Pawsburgh, that secret city of doggy delight, was not without its dark corners, and I, Sim, had found myself in the midst of a bone-burying mystery that made my fur stand on end—the curious case of the purloined pork chops.

It all started when Whiskers, the sage old cat who holds court two houses down, wove a tale of missing meats from Mutt Munchies. Whiskers, despite her feline pretense, had a paw in this town’s heart and trusted me with tasks that would rattle lesser dogs.

I was on my way to Fetch! Toys and Treats when I overheard the whispered rumor of a clandestine group called The Carnivore Cabal. They say in Pawsburgh, if your supper goes missing, The Cabal had its say.

A scent wafted from Corgi’s Crepes, interrupting my thoughts—a faintly smoky aroma that reminded me of Jenn’s barbecue chicken. I took a detour, my tail betraying my eagerness.

Strolling into Corgi’s, I sat by the entrance, eyes peering through the musky café where pups of all breeds munched on crepes. Something in the air smelled wrong, and it wasn’t just the hint of lemon in the batters—a smell that would have me pinning my ears back.

“Looking for clues, Sim?” asked Boomer, his golden fur a beacon among the dimly lit tables. He was there with his usual morning crepe, trying to act nonchalant but failing miserably. “Whispers are that The Cabal’s next target is the Whippet Wraps tonight. Biggest haul yet.”

I nodded in silent acknowledgment. If The Carnivore Cabal was planning to strike, I’d need to thread my way through the tapestry of Pawsburgh’s underbelly. After all, a dog with a nose for justice never turns down the trail when the scent of crime fills the air.

The rain had stopped by the time I left Corgi’s, leaving the air fresher, ready for the coming twist. Pointer Pier loomed ahead, the boards wet and reflective. I troted steadily along Papillon Promenade, my mind running faster than my legs. The Cabal operated in the shadows, yet they were brazen enough to announce their plans. A trap, perhaps? Or sheer arrogance?

I met Boomer by the docks, our rendezvous set where the stars could hear the whispers of the waves. “Are you sure this is where The Cabal will show?” I growled softly.

“Positive,” Boomer replied. “They have a taste for the exotic. Whippet Wraps makes their beef and lamb specialty tonight.”

“We stand guard,” I stated with resolute purpose. “Not every pup in Pawsburgh sleeps soundly, but it’s our duty to unravel this threat.”

As the sun set, we staked out The Dapper Dog Salon, whose back alley provided a clear view of the rear entrance to Whippet Wraps. Hours passed, the moon climbing higher, and it seemed as if our vigil would be in vain.

Suddenly, a shadow slunk into the alley—a hulking Rottweiler draped in a cloak that barely contained his beefy frame. The ringleader? My heart pounded, a symphony of suspense. I knew this was not a game of fetch. This was the chase, and I was a hunter born under the roof of humanity but unleashed under the moon’s gaze.

With a silent signal to Boomer, we sprang into action. We were but two dogs staring down the darkness, but in Pawsburgh, every bark echoed with the roar of justice.

We approached the Rottweiler, our stance unyielding. It took one moment—a stare down, a flash of understanding—and then a flurry. We backed him into a corner, but before we could collar the crook, an unexpected snarl filled the air.

“Mystery solved, Sim,” Boomer barked, as The Cabal’s ringleader stood before us, exposed and without his stash of snatched sustenance.

The Pawsburgh police arrived, their badges gleaming under the night sky. With a nod to the officers, we relinquished the villain. The purloined pork chops were soon recovered, rest assured, destined once more for the honest bowls of my fellow furry townsfolk.

I returned home with daybreak whispering its arrival. Jenn was there, her floral dress and kind smile a haven of safety from my night’s travail.

“Another adventure, Sim?” she asked, her voice laced with amusement, her eyes knowing.

I let my exuberant tail speak for me, my humble tale told without words. The grass would feel a bit softer this morning, the early light a bit brighter, knowing that in the town of Pawsburgh, crime had been sniffed out, and justice served a la carte.

The End.