Hey Mom,

Turned detective today & tried to foil a heist at The Bone Appetit—cats were suspected, but they were just dumpster diving. No crime, just high jinks. Miss you like crazy. Life’s still an adventure, one stack of pancakes & cuddle at a time. Love you to the moon & back!

Clovis 🐾✨

I woke up one balmy morning in Spencerville, the sun casting a glow on my brindle fur, feeling like I could take on more than just my usual leisurely stroll through Beagle Beach. Today felt special, like the start of one of those detective shows Mother leaves on the TV for background noise. It was time for a grand adventure, Clovis style.

The thing about being a bulldog in a town like Spencerville is that you’re more than just a face with jowls; you’re a “furdentity” with taste and expectations. I hoofed it over to Pawsome Pancakes because a good crime day starts with a stack of pancakes. Ya feel me? I made it a point to not tell Gilbert, because he’s the type to order plain oatmeal, and nobody needs that kinda negativity in the morning.

After devouring a stack drenched in syrup (a bulldog’s got needs, okay?), I set out with a swagger, ready to embrace the unexpected. And the unexpected came alright, in the form of a caper that would curl even a cat’s whiskers.

You see, as I was exploring the alleys between The Tail Wagger’s Tailor and The Wagging Tail Bookstore, I caught a scent. Not just any scent, but the unmistakable whiff of crime. It was faint, but to a trained nostril like mine, undeniable. Something was amiss in paradise, and I was just the Bulldog to sniff it out.

The scent led me to East Pug Palace, which, let’s be honest, has seen better days. Strolling through the foyer, I noticed a pug with a monogrammed collar looking shifty. He kept glancing at his tiny wristwatch like he was expecting the Queen or something. Not that I’m anyone to throw a bone—I mean, stone—I was here on improbable detective business myself.

“Hold up,” I told him. “Spill the kibble, Pug. What’s the big rush?” He dropped his gaze and whispered about a heist going down at The Bone Appetit. Apparently, some crafty cats were looking to purloin the secret recipe for their world-famous Lasagne à la Bark. This had “Clovis case” written all over it.

Truth be told, I didn’t give a woof about the recipe, but if there’s one thing you don’t do in Spencerville, it’s mess with another pup’s dinner plans. So, I set off to thwart this feline felony, my stubby legs carrying my robust frame with a surprising grace. Sort of.

Arriving just in time (obviously, I’ve got a reputation to maintain here), I spotted the feline felons, their whiskers twitching with anticipation. Moving stealthily behind a bush, I devised a plan that involved my chubby figure dashing heroically into the fray, making a ruckus loud enough to wake a hibernating bear. Yeah, high stakes, I know.

In the end, it turned out to be a false alarm. The cats were just rummaging through the dumpster, probably hoping to find their own version of the secret recipe. That’s the thing about Spencerville; even the crimes are wholesome. You can’t help but laugh and wag your tail at the drama.

Returning home to Gilbert with nothing more than a tale of “what could have been,” I could feel my mom’s absence more than ever. But then I remembered, she taught me that every day with or without her is still an adventure. Besides, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to cuddles with her again, one day, when our own little legend reunites us.

So as the stars took their place high above the Spencerville horizon, excitement lingering in the air, I nestled beside Gilbert, the remaining taste of syrup on my tongue and the thrill of the day’s caper gradually fading into another chapter of my bulldog life. Crime might’ve been the theme today, but as every canine in Spencerville knows, it’s love and the promise of togetherness that really gets our tails wagging.

The End.