Hey there! It’s your tiny detective Wosco! Just sniffed my way through a cheesy caper in Pawsburgh. Swiped Mavis’s special cheddar right from under Whiskers’ whiskers. No treat too small for my sleuthing paws. Case closed with a full belly & a trophy crumb! #WoscoHolmes 🧀🕵🏻‍♂️🐾

Listen to the story here

It was one of those typical days in Pawsburgh when the sun played peekaboo with the clouds, as if it had a sense of humor and I had strolled into the middle of a cosmic joke without a punchline. My name is Wosco, and if you must know, I’m what you might call a Chihuahua of interest in this tiny, tail-wagging town.

That morning, the mystery began just as any other day, with the delicate clink of my dog tag against the water bowl. After bidding adieu to the half-finished dream of chasing the great red dot across endless walls, I found myself hankering for a nibble of cheese, that corner-piece goodness from old lady Mavis’s breakfast ritual. But pause that thought—where was the cheese? It wasn’t on the usual porcelain altar of generosity. Something was afoot, or a-paw, I should say.

You see, in Pawsburgh, where the reality of an orange could halt my day like a pause button on a joyous bark, I fancied myself somewhat of an amateur sleuth. ‘Wosco Holmes,’ they’d call me, if they called me at all. I sniffed the air, my perky ears catching the specificity of the scent—sharp cheddar, yesterday’s batch maybe. It was faint but unmistakable.

So, with the audacity of a dog ten times my size, I trotted off toward Topaz Terrier Town, my pitter-pattering feet tapping out a Morse code of determination on the cobblestones. A quick chat with Marbles, who was more interested in the squeak of his toy than helping with the case, proved fruitless. But hark! A clue dropped in my lap like a well-flung frisbee. A tiny crumb of cheddar near Fetch! Toys and Treats.

I trailed the scent, my keen nose leading me past Snout Snacks, a diversion only in the sense that the delicious smells tempted my investigative focus. Resisting the allure of a treat was like trying to ignore my reflection in a shop window—almost impossible but essential for a Chihuahua with a mission.

The cheesy aroma intensified as I sauntered through the marketplace, Wafting from… Aha! The Pet Partners Pet Supplies! Nestled amongst leashes and dog beds was Whiskers the cat who, having an inexplicable fondness for dairy, eyed me with feigned disinterest. A game of cat and… well, dog, as the poetic irony wasn’t lost on me.

“Seen anything peculiar, Whiskers? Perhaps involving a delectable cube of cheddar?” I ventured, maintaining a facade of casual intrigue.

Whiskers, typically stoic in her proprietorial perch, wouldn’t blink if her ninth life depended on it. But there, hidden within her fluffy bed, I caught the glint of wrapper foil. Cheese foil. This was no ordinary foil; this was the foil that housed the rare, imported cheddar that Mavis treasured, the kind she said was ‘for special occasions’.

With a single, dexterous leap, betraying none of my usual dignified composure, I nabbed the foil. Sadly, cheese heists aren’t felonies in Pawsburgh, and Whiskers, though guilty, couldn’t be brought to canine court. Thus, I commenced the walk of justice back to my beloved old lady, evidence in mouth. In this town, the mysteries might not be grandiose, but for a Chihuahua named Wosco, they were the stuff of legends—true tales best told with a full belly and, just maybe, a nugget of stolen cheese as a souvenir.

The End.

Share This Story: