Hey Mom,
You’ll never believe it. I, Tanner, the tan pug-terrier detective, just cracked a wild case in Spencerville. Millie went missing, and Fat Russell was a mess! We searched high and low, from the Pawhouse to West Terrier Terrace, and found her with Gregor the squirrel, who just wanted to surprise her with toys. Another day, another mystery solved—and I might’ve snagged some cheese along the way. Love you!

– Tanner

Every tail has its twist, and in Spencerville, the twist was usually curly, like mine. Here I was, Tanner, a tan pug rat terrier of noble lineage but of the humblest disposition, immersed in a mystery as thick as a freshly dug hole.

It all started when Fat Russell lumbered into the Pawhouse, a snug little tavern in the heart of town that served the best bone broth one could ask for. He looked distressed, a state rarely seen in the always-jovial bulldog. His usual jovial expression was replaced with one that could rival a soggy chew toy. Right away, I knew this wasn’t about a missing kibble.

“Tanner,” he huffed, flapping his generous jowls, “you’ve got to help. It’s Millie. She’s gone missing!”

Now, in Spencerville, a missing pet is as unusual as a cat volunteering for bath time. Yet, the disappearance of Millie, our graceful King Charles Cavalier friend, was gripping enough to make any tail stop wagging. Fat Russell was inconsolable without her, and being the true gentleman that I was, I couldn’t leave him in his torment.

“Russell, old chum,” I said, patting his paw with my own while balancing on my hindquarters, looking every bit like the dashing detective canines dream of being, “fret not! We shall find Millie.”

We left the Pawhouse and trotted down the cobblestone paths. It was a brisk day, and Upper Collie Canyon in the distance loomed like a watchful sentinel. All was serene—too serene for comfort.

As we ambled for clues, we passed The Woofy Bakery where delightful aromas of fresh biscuits tempted my nostrils. Distracted but focused (if that makes any sense), I remained vigilant. South Poodle Pond shimmered in the sunlight, ripples whispering secrets to those who cared to listen.

Tailing some faint scent, we reached the heart of Spencerville, where The Fetching Deli stood invitingly. The proprietor, a cheerful dachshund named Fritz, greeted us but quickly sensed our urgency. He handed us a sliver of cheese—only, he called it a bribe, but I prefer to think of it as sustenance for sleuthing purposes.

“Fritz,” I queried between nibbles, “seen anything suspicious?”

He twitched his nose before replying, “Not much, but I saw Millie near The Pawsitively Purrfect Pet Store the other day, accompanied by a shadowy figure. Not a sight one easily forgets.”

Well, that was enough to get the scent trail going! However, as much as I admired Fritz’s perceptiveness, it was clear we needed confirmation.

“To the Pawsitively Purrfect Pet Store,” I declared, a hopeful edge to my bark. We arrived posthaste, and the ever-efficient Ms. Whiskers, the feline proprietor with a gaze that could pierce an aluminum can, sat on her counter, eyeing us with feigned disinterest.

“Millie?” she purred, “Oh yes, she was here indeed. But she left in quite the hurry upon receiving a peculiar package.”

“A package?” I pressed, intrigued. “And this shadowy figure?”

“Mm, I believe it was someone from West Terrier Terrace. There’s always something curious about that part of town.”

Fat Russell and I exchanged glances. West Terrier Terrace had a reputation—a haven for all things odd and uncanny. It was worth a try. We bounded there, ears flapping and noses to the ground.

It wasn’t long before we found the house in question: an old, ivy-clad manor that might’ve been cozy were it not for the eerie silence. The door creaked ominously as we nudged it open and entered. Inside, the air was thick, redolent with the smell of antique wood and—was that cheese? Yes, helped keep focus, that did.

There, in the back room surrounded by a mountain of assorted toys was Millie, beside none other than Gregor, the squirrel. He was notorious for his elaborate, but mostly harmless, pranks.

“Tanner! Russell!” Millie exclaimed, her silky fur catching the light. “You caught us!”

Disoriented but relieved, we listened as Gregor chuckled sheepishly. “I merely wanted to surprise Millie with a toy extravaganza! But alas, my surprise went a bit awry.”

Millie, laughing, bounded over and licked our faces. “He meant well. It was all a misunderstanding. But thank you for coming after me!”

With a wagging tail, I turned to Russell. “Looks like the case is closed, chum. Millie’s safe and sound.”

As we ambled back towards the heart of Spencerville, the sun setting with a golden hue, Russell looked at me with gratitude in his droopy eyes. “Tanner, you’re the best friend a bulldog could have.”

“And you,” I said, smiling, “are the best distraction from ear cleaning appointments.”

With our spirits high and adventure behind, we returned to the Pawhouse to regale our tale to the townsfolk, and perhaps, just perhaps, enjoy another slice of cheese.

Because in Spencerville, even the simplest of mysteries brought us all a bit closer, and perhaps, a wag’s length nearer to our beloved humans.

The End.