Hey Mom and Dad,

Just nailed my role as lead detective in the Pet Avengers, keeping Spencerville safe from weird, shiny orbs in Westie Woods. No need for paw-sta, but working up an appetite for heroics. Can I get a helping of extra belly rubs when I come home?

Love,
Jazzy Jas 🐾✨

“And so, there I was,” I begin, assuming what I hope is a Sedaris-esque nonchalance, “sitting in Doggy Delight, mulling over whether the ‘Paw-sta Primavera’ was a pretentious choice for what might turn out to be a working lunch. Because, yes, even in Spencerville, creatures of my kind occasionally must gaze at the drudgery of duty with the same disdain we reserve for celery sticks masquerading as treats.

Today’s conundrum was decidedly peculiar, not unlike when humans puzzle over why we sniff each other’s backsides—it’s common sense, really. I digress. My conclave of compatriots, us so-called ‘Pet Avengers,’ had been convened to deliberate over a matter most dire.

Pahoehoe, the pug renowned for his volcanic energy, had bounded into Chow Hound Café earlier, panting out the news. Something or someone had upset the harmonious hum of our utopia. It was our job to sniff it out, and quick.

‘Jasmine, dear,’ Chloe had trilled, her beady eyes filled with concern. ‘Do you think it’s true, what they’re saying about Westie Woods?’

I toyed with my napkin. ‘Fact, fiction, or fable, Chloe. There’s only one way to find out.’

While Dotty, Percy, Panda, and the rest nattered over the treacle tart (a mistake at any meal, if you ask me), I conjured the layout of Westie Woods in my mind’s maze. It was said something foreign had burrowed into the heart of our woods, and Pandora’s box couldn’t hold a candle to the gossip that followed.

To the great disappointment of fellow diners, I passed on dessert. With a spring in my step that betrayed none of my forebodings, I led my troupe out of the cozy enclave and towards our fate.

Sure enough, as we entered the woodlands, the air had a tang to it, much like the menace of a pineapple left out in the open for one to accidentally bite into. Silly humans—who even likes pineapples, anyway?

‘We’re not alone,’ whispered Percy, his nerves more fragile than the final piece of bacon lingering on a breakfast plate.

Our unusual band moved in closer, us pugs with our peculiarly limited field of vision, and Panda, with enough sight for all of us, but who, on this particular day, seemed more interested in a passing butterfly than our plight.

We pushed on until we reached a clearly out-of-place object—a shiny, spherical thing that shone with an intensity that would make my R2D2 bath toy cower in inadequacy. It hummed in our presence, perhaps recognizing that a bullmastiff and squad of pugs are not to be trifled with.

‘Looks techy,’ I pronounced, my voice steady despite the unnerving atmosphere. ‘Perhaps that’s where our disturbance stems from.’

‘Do we poke it?’ Pahoehoe hinted, eager as ever.

‘No poking,’ I commanded, for the potential of catastrophe far outweighed the juvenile joy of reckless prodding. ‘We stand united, as guardians of our domain, stewards of our peace.’

And with an impressive show of patience, the Pet Avengers circled the anomalous orb, deliberating a plan with the seriousness of philosophers—although I daresay, philosophers with exceedingly better noses.

After considerable debate, and what could only be described as a minor strategy session later, we made our decision. Rather than interfere with the sphere, we’d observe and protect, ensuring the safety of Spencerville amply, until such time as it declared its purpose, or, more likely, the humans came to relocate their misplaced toy, as they so often must.

Oh, but friends, let me tell you, the pride with which I watched my motley crew fall into duty was enough to soften the hardest of half-hearts printed upon a pug’s chest.

Spencerville might still harbor mysteries in the quiet shade of Westie Woods, but rest assured, the vigil of the Pet Avengers is unwavering. Now, if only my human could understand why I return home from these charges with an appetite fiercer than Chloe’s love for chasing squirrels.

Anyway, order me another ‘Paw-sta Primavera,’ won’t you? And none of that dreadful pineapple.”

The End.