Hey Mom,

I turned into Sherlock Bones today, sniffing out clues at The Woofy Bakery to uncover the secret behind my siblings’ fishy new treat! Swerved drama like a pro and still had time for some cardio at South Siberian Summit. Can’t wait to tell you all about it in the next episode of The Adventures of Princess Rose Marie! 😎🔍🐾

Love,
Rosie

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Dear Diary,

Today was the sort of day that could turn even the most sorrowful pup’s tail wag into a full-on musical number (and trust me, I’ve seen it happen at Yappy Yogurt’s karaoke nights). And why, you ask? Because Spencerville got a little more sparkly—it’s not every day you get to unravel a mystery, shake what your Mama gave you, and utterly refuse a green bean.

The sun rose over Spencerville, lighting up Westie Woods with a glow that felt like a standing ovation. Me? Rosie? I kicked off the blankets (reluctantly, they’re like, my best friends) and strutted down to Sniff ‘n’ Snack for a much-needed breakfast soiree with my partner in crime, Cocoa. Cocoa’s always game for anything that involves crumbs or espionage—which, in Spencerville, can often be the same thing.

Today’s caper? A rumor whispered through the grapevine (figs, actually—because doggos can’t really do grapes) about a mystery in the making over at The Woofy Bakery, where my siblings are said to be hiding out, stirring up trouble or whipped cream, whichever came first. Now, I love a good Telenovela twist, but my human taught me to stay clear of drama. And sugar. And cats with attitudes.

As Cocoa and I pranced our way to South Siberian Summit (because a girl’s gotta keep her figure), a peculiar scent wafted through the air—part mystery, part Monday morning. And not the good kind, like when you find a half-eaten bag of French fries under the couch. It’s more like when your human locks eyes with you just as you’re about to conduct a stealth mission on an unattended spaghetti plate. Still, something about it made my tail twitch with curiosity.

We meandered down to The Doggie Daycare—our local hub for all things gossipy and furry. It’s like Twitter but with more sniffing and significantly fewer trolls. Here we learned our first clue: The Woofy Bakery had a new treat, one that supposedly held the secret to my siblings’ mysterious endeavors. And wouldn’t you know, it’s the kind of treat I’d irrevocably snub—anything fish-flavored. You know, because the ocean is just a wet, noisy sandbox that doesn’t understand the word “no.”

It was time to don my detective cap (metaphorically speaking, as actual hats are a big N-O for moi). Cocoa and I sashayed our way through Retriever River and past The Howling Husky Hardware Store (where I resist the eternal temptation of rubber balls) until we arrived at the bakery, noses first.

At The Woofy Bakery, I played it cool, lounging casually by the display case—channeling my inner femme fatale, minus the femme because, well, this Chihuahua is proudly androgynous in her espionage. I let my gaze linger on the fishy treats before executing a dainty sneeze, disowning them with every fiber of my pint-sized being.

Beneath the ruse, my eyes darted for clues. And there it was, the tiniest paw print pressed into a soft corner of bread dough left out to rise. Classic sibling signature. A giggle narrowly escaped me—something I’ve always been too ladylike to indulge in—when I remembered Cocoa’s mischievous grin beside me. That grin meant only one thing: It was adventure o’clock in Spencerville.

With the sun setting on another day, we parted ways after promising each other to pick up the trail tomorrow. Cocoa to his home, and I to my dreamland of blankets, where I silently thanked my lucky stars—or the ghost of whichever feline invented comfy fabrics.

Rosie, over and out.

The End.

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