Hey Mom, just wrapped up another day being Pawsburgh’s premier tail-wagging detective. Unraveled the Duckless Pond mystery—it turned out to be a wild crust chase with a side of caprine subterfuge. Who knew a day in the life of Super Cooper would include crime-solving, bread crust legend, and goat-whispering? Tucking my nose in for the night now. Sniffs and licks, Super Cooper 🐾🕵️‍♂️

Not every tail-wagging detective gets the call right at brunch-time, but when YaYa’s yaps echoed down Schnauzer Street, I knew my corned beef Beagle Bagel would have to wait. I gave the spire of Spitz a lingering gaze; maybe it was the wind or the mystery afoot, but it seemed to shiver in anticipation.

Something was up at Shiba Inlet, and it wasn’t just the tide.

As I trotted past Poodle’s Pasta, the warm scent of marinara sauce wove through the air like a delightful dream one resents waking from, but duty—and, I should admit, curiosity—compelled me forward. Pawsburgh was once again ripe with the peculiar; a place that could turn a simple sniff and pee into an enigma.

I’m Cooper, by the way. As German Shepherds go, I like to think I’m the total package—loyal, playful, and with a nose that’s sniffed out more mischief than a fox in a henhouse.

“Cooper!” Duffy, with his painter’s palette of fur, bounded up to me outside Mastiff’s Meals. “Have you heard about the Duckless Pond debacle?”

I hadn’t, but before I could assure him it would be duck-full again by dinnertime, we rounded the bend to Shiba Inlet, and the scene that awaited was one of flustered feathers and confused quacks. The ducks, those querulous squawkers, were all but marching upon the sandy banks with unruffled indigence.

“A thief in our midst,” Yum Yum declared, all one-hundred-and-thirty pounds of her. “This is a case for you, Coop.”

I scanned the crowd—Dimples, Daisy, Marley, all ears perked; Yum Yum’s reflections multiplied in the dumfounded eyes of the less vertically endowed. If intrigue had a smell, it’d be the mix of anxious dogs and the salty zephyrs looping through the air. I edged closer, letting the scents introduce the untold story.

The ducks were restless; something prized had vanished. Yet what treasure could ducks possess was beyond my canine comprehension. Ruger and Buddy stood like twin sentinels, whispering long-faced and low, their equine wisdom lost on us lesser mortals. Their gaze directed me toward the water.

It wasn’t treasures of gold or silver—Pawsburgh’s quackers prized something far grander: Yeast-Me-Not, the oldest and most venerated bread crust in dogdom, passed down from beak to beak, a relic of the Ancients’ picnics long departed.

And now it was missing.

I went to the shoreline, picked up the trail of crumbs—or the lack thereof. TT the pig, busy encouraging a revolution amongst the chickens—no surprise there—didn’t see a thing, or so her innocent oinks claimed.

I mulled over a breadless crust, a pig that wore a poker face better than some of the terriers at their peak, and ducks that could outwail sirens—in Pawsburgh, extraordinary was the routine. Then, I thought of my trusty pig toy—what if it were abducted? Pure, unbridled rambunctiousness tingled down my spine.

A gust of wind urged the ducks into a renewed frenzy, and amidst their squabbling, a whisper of laughter—it was Miss Annie Bae, the mischievous goat, shadows and secrets stitched into her very bleat.

It was then I understood: The ducks were part of a larger plot, a distraction, a wild goose—or rather duck—chase, while something else, something vaguer, deeper, and undoubtedly stranger, skulked in the alleys of Pawsburgh.

With a flick of my tail, I summoned my life’s enthusiasms—friends and food—mingling with the thrill of the hunt. This was no mere bread crust caper, no sordid affair of baked goods gone awry, but rather the start of an adventure only a dog like me could unfold.

After all, in Pawsburgh, the extraordinary is never more than a bark away. And if I was anything in this world of whispers and wagging tails, it was extraordinarily good at sniffing out the truth.

The End.

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