Hey, it’s Detective Floof here! 🐾 Just wrapped up the Case of the Snatched Squeaky—turned out to be an epic caper staged by our gang for the ultimate tail-wagging twist! Whiskers and wagging tails aside, I sleuthed through Pawsburg with sass and class, all for a surprise shindig at Setter’s. Stay pawsome! 🕵️‍♂️🎉 – Penny

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I tell ya, the afternoon sun in Jamie’s living room has nothing on the eternal golden hour in Pawsburg. This place? It’s like a break from all the sit-stay-fetch rigmarole. But let me not get ahead of myself. Name’s Penny. Catahoula extraordinaire, and unofficial detective of canine conundrums. Squirrel shenanigans? Puddle mysteries? I’m your dog.

So, this one time—keep this on the down-low—I’m sunning it up at Emerald Eskimo Estuary, you know, letting the sunbeams catch the twinkle in my mischief-shimmer eyes, when suddenly, I catch whiff of a clue. A scent so captivating, it could only lead to adventure or my savory chicken treats.

Obvs, I follow my snoot, bouncing past Hound Heights, where Baxter is, predictably, dropping some lab-lored sleepy wisdom on some pups. “Penny,” he drawls, “the world’s a giant squeaky ball, gotta let it bounce where it will.” Deep Baxter, really deep. But I had no time—I was on the tail of something.

I cross over to Shiba Inlet, where Mimi the terrier is zooming around like she’s trying to break the sound barrier or something. “Mi, no time for chit-chat,” I bark out, “on a hot trail here.” She quips back with that terrier twinkle, “Catch ya on the flip side, space cowdog!” Yeah, she has a thing for western sci-fi.

The trail leads me straight to The Doggy Depot. I burst through the door, the bell jingling like the opening credits of my own show. And there, in the middle of the aisles filled with every toy imaginable, is my coveted squeaky red ball—just chilling on the floor, like it hadn’t been kidnapped from my treasure trove of playthings.

“Squeaky,” I say, because we’re on first-name terms, “what in Pawsburg are you doing here?” The ball, silent as ever, winks with a high-fidelity squeak. That’s when I spot it—a note underneath.

“Penny, if you want to see your precious squeaky again, come to Setter’s Steakhouse,” it read in some mystery mutt’s chicken scratch.

Setter’s Steakhouse? That’s where the crème de la crème dine on kibble and steak bites. I’ve never been that fond of pomp and pretense; I prefer my hearty Mastiff’s Meals. But squeaky was worth it. Worth donning the Pet World disguise of high pet society.

Bounding into the steakhouse, I’m hit with the rich aroma of premium cuts—but I’m a dog on a mission, pushing through my favorite-food daydreams. I spot a shadowy figure by the grand window. No other than Grizzle, a husky with a flair for dramatic entrances.

“Grizzle!” I bark, a little louder than intended, “Are you the mastermind behind this squeaky snatching?”

Grizzle’s all frosty breath and hot pancakes charisma. He glances up from his Husky’s Hotcakes stack and grins. “You got wit, Penny, but can you handle the truth? It was all a setup.”

“A setup?”

“Yup, a pawsome adventure orchestrated by your friends.”

I hear the unified squeaks behind me and turn around to see Baxter, Mimi, and even my human Jamie, smirking like they’ve just played the ultimate card in Go Fetch.

“You guys!” I scamper to them, a tail-wag of emotions. “This is like, the best surprise ever,” I exclaim, totally floored, but playing it cool, “I tailed that scent like a Cyber Monday shopper after the last discounted chew toy.”

And so, in the most Mindy-Kaling-quippy-dialogue fashion, we spend our evening dining and laughing, woven tails of heroism and humor shared over impeccable Setter’s Steakhouse cuisine. Except the green beans, of course. Those villains I leave untouched. Because, darling, not even Pawsburg’s magic could swing that masquerade.

The End.