Hey Mom,

Just wrapped up another wild night in Pawsburgh. Saved the city from a bone-heist scheme and became a hero among dogs. Sometimes I think there’s more to me than just your average pet – I’m like a fluffy, tail-wagging detective. Paws and reflect on that! 😏

Will return to being your snuggly furball by sunrise.

Later,
Trevor, aka ‘Sherlock Bones’

Sneaking through the gap in the fence under the shroud of moonlight, my paws carry me swiftly to Pawsburgh, my secret world unbeknownst to my human. I anticipate another clandestine mission, and my heart thuds in my chest – not from exertion, but exhilaration. The stench of adventure burns my nostrils; it was going to be one of those nights.

My first stop, The Pampered Pooch Salon – not for a dreaded bath, never that – but for intel from the manicured paws and the gossiping muzzles that frequented there. Tonight, whispers dogged the Salon’s clientele about the vanishing of prized bones from Pooch’s Pub, a scandal that left the finest noses of Pawsburgh sniffing for answers.

“Bones don’t just walk away,” I mutter under my breath, my strides purposeful as I make my way to Canine’s Cuisine – perhaps the most reputable place to pick a scent or a sight that could unravel mysteries.

“Evenin’, Detective Trevor,” greets old Benny, the Beagle who flips the best dog biscuits in town. Haven’t told him I despise the title, for companionship’s sake, but I’ll let him believe what he likes as long as it keeps the milk bones coming.

“Evenin’, Benny. Anything unusual tonight?” I ask, casually nosing through the aromas of beef stew and charred steak.

“Other than every bigwig in Pawsburgh lurking around? Nah, nothin’ much. Just quiet, too quiet,” his nose twitches, pointing out that calm in our town usually presages the storm.

Tip of my tail twitching, my intuition now tugs at me like Franklin does when he’s impatient for dinner. I nose thanks to Benny and make for Pointer Pier. The waves crash melodically, but I’m not here for the symphony of the sea. I’m here for answers.

A chill clangs along the Harbor; a tanker chugs in with a suspicious precision. I need to get closer, but caution gnaws at my gut. Without backup, I’m a lone shepherd in uncharted waters. So, I slink into the shadows, every step a measured risk.

The mystery unravels, as seedy-looking mongrels unload crates, bones etched on the wood. This was no standard shipment, and my coat bristles with righteous indignation. Pawsburgh may be for playful frolics, but it’s my turf to protect – even more than those bouncy tires and chewy pig ears I so cherish.

I need to act, and fast. If this calamity went unchecked, Kelpie Keys would be swimming in chaos by dawn. Rallying the gallant dogs of Pawsburgh as witnesses, we stealthily concord at Harrier Harbor.

“Any of you scared of a little dognapping?” I tease, challenge lighting my eyes.

An army of flapping ears and stalwart stances encircles me. Together, we pounce, a tidal wave of fur and barks, swarming over the intruders like ants on a fallen ice cream cone on a hot summer day. The mongrels didn’t stand a chance, outnumbered and outgunned by sheer loyalty and treat-shaped zeal.

We corner the leader, his coat as dark as his presumed intentions, and with a few stern growls and a promise of a peaceful resolution, the bones are returned, and order restored. No violence needed when a bark can be worse than a bite, and a Shepherd stands guard.

Victory is ours, and our tales wag in unison like flags in the wind. The night draws to a close as we scamper back through the lattice of invisible portals leading to our respective homes and cushioned beds.

I slip through the window just as pink hues of dawn caress the horizon. I pause and watch the sun’s ascent, the stillness of a sleeping house anchoring me. Tomorrow, I’ll resume my quiet existence in the human world, where the biggest thrill is the jangle of the leash that foretells a walk. But tonight? Tonight, I was Trevor, the Shepherd of Pawsburgh, guardian of canine delights and bones, and relentless pursuer of truth.

Beneath my human’s unconscious smile and amidst the humdrum of the everyday, I wag my tail, shroud myself once more in mundane reality, and close my eyes until the next moonrise calls me back to Pawsburgh.

The End.