Hey there, pack, it’s IG aka Duchess, your family fur detective. Took a little detour in Pawsburg, sniffed out some fruity chicken at the local digs. Long story short, let’s just say the supplier’s got our dinners mixed up with mummy’s citrus chicken. All sorted now. Love and licks, – IG.

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I was reclining languidly on my throne – that’s to say, in my full-of-dog-hair, but comfy, well-loved corner cushion, when it happened. Something was a-miss. “I smell adventure,” I thought, snuffing the crisp summer air susurrating in through the open window.

I was helpless in its magnetic allure, it called out to me, beaconing like a bone buried treasure. Off I trotted, sneaking out through the doggy door into the still of the evening. Scribbles, my trusty teddy bear squeaker, clenched merrily between my teeth like a jovial jester. “Pawsburg, here comes Duchess!” I declared.

The cobblestone streets greeted me with familiarity as I wandered into Bulldog Bay. Illuminated under the velvety ochre of a setting sun, it was teeming with the city’s canine life. Yet, something was different. The scents, it all smelled off. “Mmm, brownies?” I wondered. No, Pup-Tizers didn’t serve food for humans, not in Pawsburg.

Deciding to fetch help, I ventured to Retriever River, the home of my dear confidante, Pepper, the mystery-solving Labrador. “Pepper,” I sighed, sounding more human than dog. I relayed my tale, tail twitching with genuine anxiety. “Something’s afoot”.

Pepper sniffed the air ceremoniously, his face etched in deep concentration as his tail swung like a pendulum. “Let’s go,” he barked, excitedly. We snuck into Pup-Tizers, paw-to-paw under the cover of darkness.

The restaurant was locked up tight. Pepper took the lead as we squeezed through a loose board into Chow Hound Café. The stupefying smack of citrus filled the air, a smell I despised. I pinched my charm-riddled snout. “Oranges,” I exclaimed, or whatever the equivalent is in dog. “But why?”

Unwrapping the mystery, we soon discovered Pawsburg had an unusual citrus influx in their meat supply. Culinary chaos erupted, it was like Chicken à l’Orange instead of the regular luscious poultry. Who would’ve thought?

Our rumble in the jungle or rather, ruckus in the restaurant, tipped the Pawsburg dwellers. The city realised its meat supplier had mixed up shipments – human meals were being supplied here, citrus and all!

The case was cracked, and life in Pawsburg tranquilly moved back to its usual trot. Jobs were done, the citizens returned to their daytime nests. As for us vigilantes? Our tails were wagging once again, sniffing out new adventures whilst exchanging playful banter in the moonlit shadows of peace.

So, here’s the thing to remember: life is always smelling of oranges until you sniff out the brownies. In my case, freshly cooked chicken with carrots, minus the pesky oranges of course. That night, I returned to my home in Sunnyville, victorious and content; just another day in the life of Duchess, the sleuth hound.

The End.

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