Hey fam,

Just solved the mystery of the missing Pink Hedgehog over here – turned culprit to comrade by spinning a yarn that touched the heart. Our town’s sentimental treasure is safe, and Spencerville can rest easy knowing this beagle’s sniffed out the truth with a side of compassion. Classic Gordon, right? Time for a well-earned sunbeam nap. Catch you at the next family BBQ!

Your Chicken Nugget,
Gordon

Listen to the story here

I’ve always had a nose for the finer things in life – chicken roasted to perfection, a ripe banana softly peeled, the earthy tang of liver – but that fateful Spencerville morning, it caught a whiff of mystery floating on the Shepherd Skyline breezeway. They say I’m a free spirit; well, call it what you will, but there’s no rest for the keen when oddity beckons. My name’s Gordon, by the way, Roberto Gordon Gau if we’re getting formal, but let’s not stand on ceremony.

It began like any other day in this canine paradise we call home. I’d left my spot under the sunbeam – reluctantly, mind you – to indulge in the social sniff at the Chow Hound Café. But the brouhaha wasn’t about the new bone-broth lattes. No, sir. It was that priceless artifact, the Pink Hedgehog of memory-laden fame, vanished without a trace from the Furry Friends Art Gallery. As the patron of leisurely pursuits and cherished memories, this couldn’t stand. A beagle takes his icons seriously.

The bunch I run with, they’re a rambunctious pack of purebred sleuths each. So, we convened at the Shih Tzu Stadium, their faces grave under the wise old scoreboard. “Gordon,” Lexi said with the trademark basset droop. “You reckon this is the job for us?”

“I do, indeed,” I replied with a beagle’s certainty. “Someone’s threatening the sanctity of our backyard sunbathing and uninterrupted naps with this tomfoolery. We investigate.”

Sniffing out leads took me everywhere from bakeries to bookstores. The Pupsicle Palace provided a potential witness. “Saw a fella with a hedgehog,” said a scruffy terrier pup. “Coulda sworn it was your hue, but couldn’t chase. Banana popsicle day, you see.”

Following up on a tip, I ambled into Woof and Whisker Wellness Center, sniffing for subtext. “The hedgehog? Yeah, left here in quite the hurry,” said a poodle with fur a shade less dapper than mine. “Headed towards Shepherd Skyline.”

And there it stood, under the shadow of that urban silhouette, the Pink Hedgehog in the jaws of a mongrel making a dash for it. With a gusto surprising for my age and a stern “Halt!” the mongrel skidded to a stop, scandal written all over his mismatched features.

“You’ve got the guts of a grand champion,” I chided, “but the sense of a headless chicken at feeding time.”

It turned out, the mongrel was a sucker for sentiment, not crime. “It’s… It’s for my kid,” he stammered, eyes glazing. “She lost hers, and I thought…”

I softened then. We beagles, we have hearts as expansive as our bays. “Let’s concoct a tale, you and I,” I proposed. “For your kid – a story of heroics and heart, featuring a hedgehog that looks just like it but makes it back home after grand adventures.”

The mongrel nodded, sniffling as though I’d handed him a platter of my finest delicacies. The art gallery forgave the misunderstanding, inspired by the beagle who turned a theft into a tale of happiness.

That’s how I solved the case of the purloined Pink Hedgehog in Spencerville – not with bites, but with bark and heart. As for the mongrel, he got an exact imitation. As for the original, it resumed its rightful place as a monument to bygone playtimes.

Some say a nosy dog’s a bother. I say, a nosy dog’s the hero Spencerville didn’t know it needed. Now, with the mystery laid to rest with the sunrise, it’s back I go to my spot of sunlight, to dream of chicken and snooze till the scent of the next adventure fills my nostrils. A gourmet in mind, a detective at heart, I’m Gordon – just Gordon.

The End.

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