Hey fam! Just wrapped up another tail-twitching day as Pawsburgh’s finest: outsmarted the bath, sleuthed Luna’s missing collar drama, and uncovered a canine art heist. Case closed, but shh, it’s our secret! Headed home – keep the bubbles at bay. 🐾 – Roo, the Sherlock of Shih Tzus

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It was a fine Tuesday morning, or at least I assumed it was Tuesday. The day of the week was hardly my concern until it came collar and leash with mysterious intrigues of Pawsburgh. My name is Roo, remember? That small, debonair detective with a nose not just for sniffing out salmon treats but also for sniffing out the curious and the contentious.

Now, reader, you know me, so it won’t shock you to hear that I had dozed off in a beam of sunlight along Mastiff Meadows. Having escaped the soapy clutches of a scheduled bath — my own clandestine operation involving a deft duck behind the couch and a well-timed sprint out the doggy door — I was relishing my freedom, tail flicking in contented rhythm to my dreams. But dreams have a way of fading when adventure comes yapping at your heels.

The scent of intrigue wafted over me — not the usual blend of Akita Alley chow or Samoyed Square scents — but something more pungent, a whiff of wrongness. I perked up my ears, did a discreet midnight shuffle from the grass, an artful slink anyone could appreciate, and made my way to the Pawfect Training Center.

That’s where I found Max, looking more frazzled than a pointer on the Fourth of July. “Roo! Thank heavens!” he yipped. “It’s Luna’s collar — it’s gone missing!”

Losing a collar in Pawsburgh was like losing your tail; it just didn’t sit right. Luna’s collar, studded with moonstones that reflected her sleek personality, was as much a part of her as her long, elegant stride. We needed that collar. I needed a case. It kept my mind off the still-looming bath.

No sooner had Max finished his tale than I was on the job, tail a propeller of determination. A quick pit stop at Golden Grub to ruminate over a savory bowl of Canine Kabobs — a detective thinks best when his belly is rightly full. The server, a chatty Chihuahua with a flair for the dramatic, mentioned Luna had popped in yesterday, looking fussed. My ears tuned to the frequency of drama.

At The Pampered Pooch Salon, where Luna was known to indulge, I sniffed around for clues with a Vonnegut quirk of attitude. The manicured Maltese doing the rounds of ‘pawdicures’ arched a brow when I mentioned the missing collar. “Oh, that grey Greyhound,” she murmured, “left in such a hurry, she didn’t notice her bling slipped off on the recliner.”

So, collar found, case seemingly closed. But the question nipping at my heels — why the hurry, Luna?

A meander back to Samoyed Square, and there, in the shadow of the statue of Sir Woofsalot, I found her. Luna, collarless, but with a grin that could rival the Cheshire Cat’s David Bowie phase.

“Why the dash, Luna?” I barked, with that Vonnegut bite.

Luna just nodded toward the statue. “Hiding,” she whispered. “From the human. You know, they think we have no sense of artistry. But when they were off at work, I added my own touch.” A proud paw pointed to Sir Woofsalot, now sporting a very familiar moonstone-eyed monocle. “I think it suits him.”

The case was a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma, but it was all in a day’s work for Roo, the Shih Tzu with the heart of a lion and the sense of a hound. The bath forgotten, I sauntered off with Luna, mystery solved, adventure had, narratives none the wiser.

And as for the collar? Well, that, dear reader, remained our little Pawsburgh secret.

The End.