“Hey Mom, just letting you know I’m out playing detective tonight. A buddy of mine disappeared and I’ve put my paws on the pavement to sniff him out. This one’s got more twists than a pretzel, but don’t worry, I’m on it. Hang tight for the next chapter of Jasper’s Tale. – Jasperoni”

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The night had sunk its teeth deep into Spencerville, the moon hanging low like some celestial detective shining a spotlight on collars better left unturned. I trotted through the alleys of Brindle Brown Boxer Beach, my shadow stretching out before me, warping against the walls with each flicker of the neon signs above.

It was a lousy evening, the kind of night that made you wonder if maybe, just maybe, the rain was trying to wash away more than just the dirt on the streets. Paws against the pavement, I moved swiftly, a dog on a mission, and not some leisurely jaunt to Furrific Fried Chicken, which was tantalizingly close with its perfume of deep-fried temptation wafting through the air.

My friend, Reo, had vamoosed, vanished without a sniff, and in this world of wagging tails and slobbery tongues, that meant trouble. Reo and I—we were like peanut butter and jelly, if I could stomach the stuff. But the streets don’t care much for stories of friendship; they’re cold, indifferent, the sort of places where hope is just another four-letter word.

“You gotta help me, Jasper,” Bonzi had said, his eyes two dark pools of worry. “Reo’s gone, and he’s in a bad way. The kind of thing you don’t walk away from with just a scratch behind the ears.”

I should’ve been at the Groom Room, sprucing up the old fur, but then again, Reo never could resist a roll in the mud.

I approached Sniff ‘n’ Snack, the diner that moonlighted as the town’s pulse. Its usual cacophony of gossip and laughter had tonight been replaced by hushed tones and glances that darted quick as lizards.

An old bloodhound, Max, was parked outside, the fatigue in his jowls told a tale of too many years on the trail of the missing and the wayward. “The world’s gone to the dogs, Jasper,” he lamented, with a gravity that belied his droopy frame.

“Not yet, Max,” I quipped, “there’s still some bite in this old town.”

I nosed my way through the diner’s door, a bell tinkling with an irony that wasn’t lost on me—more jingle than joy, a carol of warning. Inside, a constellation of eyes met me, and I could all but hear their thoughts begging for a reprieve from the suspense.

There was talk, talk of winnings gambled and lost at Bulldog Bay, of debts deeper than the scratches on a chew toy, of barks worse than bites. Reo had been sniffing around the wrong hydrants, it seemed.

Was this what had snatched him from our ranks? A bet gone bad? A quiet growl rumbled in my throat—a mixture of fear and the preemptive thrill of the chase. Maybe this was a game of fetch that would throw me too far from home.

I circled the tables, the diners’ eyes tracking me as I wound my way. Paws on the counter, I met the eyes of Sheila, proprietress and unofficial mayor of Spencerville’s twilight crowd. She slid a bowl of water my way, a gesture that said, “Take a load off.”

“Heat’s on, huh?” she said, her whiskers twitching.

“Reo’s mixed up in something messier than a mud puddle after a storm,” I replied, lapping up the water.

“Word is, there’s a new gang in town,” she confided, leaning in. “Not the usual yappy kind. They’re silent but deadly—like a ghost with a grudge. Reo got on their bad side chasing after a slice of Pup-Tastic Pizza with a side of danger.”

So, there it was. My next lead. Like any good slice of pie, the next piece was just waiting to be served. And I had a hunch about where I’d find it, and hopefully, Reo.

I left a tip of a heartfelt tail wag and tromped out into the night, the diner door closing behind me with a definitive note. Jasper’s Tale was about to add another chapter, and it wouldn’t have a lick to do with Maltese Meadow or cheese dreams. No, this was going to be a tough one to chew, but chew it I would, because that’s what we do in Spencerville—we keep gnawing until we’re back with our pack.

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