Hey Mom,

Just cracked the case of the stolen Big Bone here in Pawsburgh. Turns out, my pal Freckles tried to pin it on me – talk about a twist! This Old English Bulldog’s still got it, sniffing out the truth in a city of shadows. Will chew on the details later. Send my love to the pack.

Your sleuthing Boo boo, A-Dog 🐾🕵️‍♂️🦴

Listen to the story here

Title: “A-Dog’s Pawsburgh Noir”

If you asked me, Pawsburgh at midnight was like a bone buried under the moonlight – full of secrets just waiting to be dug up. And dig I did. The name’s A-Dog, and my nights are spent weaving through the alleys and boulevards of this canine metropolis, my half-inky, half-pure facade all but a shadow in the bewitching darkness of Topaz Terrier Town.

I was lounging on Affenpinscher Avenue, rolled up in my usual spot by the Spaniel Springs, swaddling my thoughts tighter than a pup in its swaddling blanket. The thing about being an Old English Bulldog with a keen sense of curiosity is that it often lands you in the stickiest of situations… like molasses on one of those bark-worthy bones from the Bark-n-Bite Bistro.

Just as the moon flirted with a cloud above, the sound of hurried paws caught my attention. Something was amiss. The usual bustle of the nighttime hustle was silent, save for this one insistent pattern of trotting. I lifted my head, rid myself of the lingering thoughts, and let my nose guide me on.

With every step into the velvety night, the savory scents of Mastiff’s Meals wafted through the air, but hunger was far from my mind. I caught a whiff of something more pungent, more anxious – trouble. Rounding the bend at The Fetching Feline Pet Emporium, whose mere presence in a town of dogs was an affront to the senses, I came face to face with a scraggly pug, nerves frazzled as an old tug-of-war rope.

“Freckles,” I barked, all business, “What’s got your tail in a twist?”

“It’s the Big Bone,” he panted, eyes wilder than a kitten in a yarn ball factory. “Gone. Stolen.”

The Big Bone was the coveted gem of Pawsburgh, nestled deep within the vault of The Dapper Dog Salon and Spa for Paws. It wasn’t just any old bone; it was the stuff of legend, a treasure every mutt this side of the Beagle Barrier dreamed of sinking their teeth into.

I wasn’t one for swimming, but if there was one pool I was willing to dive into, it was a pool of mystery. With a grunt, I hoisted myself up and signaled with a jerk of my head that Freckles should lead the way.

The streets were whisper-quiet as we skulked past Labrador Lunch, the neon sign flickering like the suspicious glint in a crook’s eye. We arrived at the back door of the salon, the lock picked cleaner than a chew toy after a flurry of fidos had their way with it.

Inside, the silence was profound – the kind of quiet that yells louder than a hound at a full moon. We tread carefully, our paws padding over the opulent tiles. Something twinkled in the corner – my stuffed sloth, my beloved sentinel, lying discarded and alone. The thieves had been in my private suite.

And there it was – or wasn’t. The Big Bone’s usual spot as empty as a water bowl left out on a hot summer’s day. My mind whirred, and in that moment of betrayal, I pieced it all together like a well-chewed puzzle.

I turned to Freckles with a knowing look, as he shuffled his tiny paws, unwilling to meet my gaze. “You’ve got a debt bigger than your bark, and that bone was your ticket out, wasn’t it?”

The jig was up, and everyone in Pawsburgh would soon know the tale. Freckles, friend-turned-foe, and A-Dog, the Bulldog who unraveled the mystery of the stolen Big Bone. Crime doesn’t pay, not even in a world woven from dark and dreamy dog tales. But I – I was just a loyal bull in a land of shadows, my tales spun from a place of love for a magical town called Pawsburgh.

The End.

Share This Story: