Hey Mom,

Just saved Spencerville from a tennis ball monopoly at Beagle Beach and helped Mayor Snuffles keep the fetch in our democracy! Uncovered that Fluffy was behind it all, but don’t worry, the balls are rolling again and playtime’s diversified. Your little Negoti-pawtor strikes again! 🎾🐾

Licks and wags,
Stitch 🐶✨

Listen to the story here

In the biscuit-scented corridors of power that run through the heart of Spencerville, there I was—Stitch, political advisor to the top dog, Mayor Snuffles himself. My paws clicked on the marble floor of City Hall with the urgency only the most pressing of canine crises could evoke. You see, in a town run by pets, the stakes were forever high, and the bones—well, they were buried deep.

“Stitch,” the Mayor’s voice boomed from behind the oak door, “get in here. We’ve got a situation.”

I pushed open the door with my nose, the air thick with the gravity of responsibility. Every whiskered face in the room turned as I sauntered in tail high, with the confidence of a pup who’s played fetch and actually brought back the stick without a detour.

“What’s going on?” I asked, my collar jingling like the keys to the city.

“It’s the Beagle Beach affair,” murmured Snuffles, his jowls quivering with unease. “We’ve got a scandal, Stitch. Someone’s been hoarding all the tennis balls and hiding them beneath the pier.”

I cocked my head. “A hoarder? On our sandy shores?” I paced, the cogs in my canine cranium churning. “This isn’t just about the balls. It’s about the very essence of our fetch-based economy!”

“Indeed,” Snuffles sighed, resting his head on his paws. “We can’t have a monopoly on recreational equipment. It goes against everything Spencerville stands for!”

I nodded, thoughts racing faster than I chase the mailman. “So, we sniff out the culprit, we bring order to our beaches, and turn the tide on this treachery. Easy as pie – and I do love pie.”

“Just be careful, Stitch,” Snuffles warned, his eyes narrowing. “The tennis ball bandit might be closer than we think.”

Determined, I trotted out of City Hall, my course set for Beagle Beach. The sun hung low in the sky, like a dog treat just out of reach.

As I approached, an eerie silence gripped the shoreline, the usual barking and splashing replaced with the murmur of uncertainty. To my left, Soco wagged his tail – a trusty ally in a sea of unrest.

“I heard about the balls,” Soco said, joining my side. “It’s got every tail in a twist.”

“Not for long,” I assured him, scanning the beach’s horizon. “Want to help me dig up the truth?”

“You don’t even have to ask,” replied Soco, his grin infectious.

We worked paw-in-paw, questioning suspicious squirrels and interrogating indifferent iguanas. We unearthed clues buried under layers of sand; a tennis ball here, a sandy chew toy there, until the trail led us to the most unassuming of suspects—a mild-mannered Shih Tzu named Fluffy.

“Fluffy?” I gasped as we confronted her near the dunes. “Why hoard the balls? You’re not even a fan of fetch!”

She sighed, a sorrowful howl escaping her. “Guilty. I just wanted a rest from all the fetching, the throwing, the relentless panting. No one ever plays tug-of-war anymore.”

I took a moment, understanding her plea for a reprieve from the mayhem of mono-sport fixation. “We’ll work on diversifying our playtime,” I promised. “But Spencerville needs its tennis balls, for the good of pups everywhere.”

“Okay,” she relented, leading us to her stash as the stars began to twinkle above. “I have peak-sneaky paws. Wait till you see how many I’ve gathered.”

We returned the balls to their rightful owners, their joyous barks echoing under the moonlight, like yappy music to my flopped over ears.

Later, as I recounted the tail-wagging victory to Mayor Snuffles, he chomped thoughtfully on a biscuit. “You’ve got a real nose for justice, Stitch. Spencerville rests easier with you on patrol.”

And as I settled in for the night, visions of unlimited doggy bagels dancing in my head, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride. In Spencerville, every dog has its day, but somehow, I felt like I had fetched a little more—I had fetched the truth.

And so, with my beloved toy squirrel tucked snugly by my paw, and my heart filled with canine camaraderie, I closed my eyes, whisked away to dreamland, knowing full well that tomorrow would bring another escapade. Because in Spencerville, there’s no running from responsibility—even if you have the most majestic four legs in town.

The End.