Hey there,

Solved the Case of the Vanishing Vast Bone today. It was no more than pup play, really. Whiskers the Bold was innocent; the true culprit? A youngster’s innocent misplacement. Justice served, along with a side of my fave – chicken jerky! Another tail-wagging triumph for Pawsburg’s tiniest detective with the biggest heart. 😎🐾

Stay paw-some,
Christine “The Sleuth Hound” Gleason

Listen to the story here

In Pawsburg, the scent on the wind was always that of intrigue and delectable bits of gossip that wafted through the fur-filled airwaves. Ah, dear reader, you know of me — Christine L. Gleason, the smallest sleuth with the sharpest bite in town. As the brindle-coated guardian of justice with a bark that echoed through the alleyways of Amber Akita Alley, it was another day’s toil and another mystery to unravel.

Only yesterday, as I promenaded down to the Canine’s Cuisine for a bit of luncheon – chicken jerky, strictly (for you know of my peanut butter disdain) – did I overhear the hushed barks of distress. It appeared that the prized possession of Sir Barkley, a bone of grand proportions and questionable origins, had gone missing. How frightfully scandalous!

I took it upon myself, with no more urgency than one would use to shoo a particularly bold fly, to investigate the matter. With the rubber squeak of my elephantine comrade secure in my maw for both comfort and decorum, I traipsed down towards the Eskimo Estuary where Sir Barkley’s abode sprawled like a giant’s daydream.

The good Sir was beside himself with grief, his mighty tail drooping like a broken umbrella. “Christine,” he boomed, his voice about as subtle as a trombone in a library, “you must find it! It’s a matter of canine honor.”

“Keep your fur on, Sir Barkley,” I quipped, my keen mind already nosing through the clues, much like I nose through daffodils during my sprightly gambols.

If one must engage in the grim art of detection, the reward, dear friends, should always come first. So I trotted over to Paw Pad Thai for a small nibble. Refreshed and renewed, I scampered zestfully towards Setter Shore where the perfumed air hung thick with the plot.

Suspicion wagged in my heart towards an unlikely, yet possible, culprit. Whiskers the Bold had been eyeing that bone with far too keen an interest. Though a tabby by birth, she was Pawsburg’s resident feline and held a degree of respect amidst the Extraordinary Pets for her stealth… and her gloriously misguided attempts at barking.

“Miss Gleason, out on the sniff?” mewled Whiskers, her head tilting in that most feline manner of curiosity.

“You could say,” I retorted, twirling my rubber elephant, definitively not a symbol of my authority. “I’m on the prowl for a missing artifact of chewable worth.”

Our conversation was cut short by an abrupt yet lyrical howling; the vespers of Pawsburg needed my vocal talents. Thus, with paws swift and a chorus of comrades at my back, I sang to the evening stars as every dog from The Barking Boutique to The Doggie Daycare joined in.

The howl unfurled the final twist; with the choir’s crescendo, Sir Barkley’s prized bone rolled out from its ill-chosen hiding spot amidst a stack of Fetch! Toys and Treats rubbish. A thief undone by serenade!

The revelation that followed was one for the papers, had Pawsburg been keen on such human trappings. A mere pupper, new to the tapestries of town life, had chanced upon the bone and, in a fit of enthusiastic naivety, misplaced it rather than wielded it for a nefarious purpose.

With my task complete and Sir Barkley’s tail once more aflutter, I settled down at Puppy Plate, my tiny frame tired yet triumphant. A serving of savory chicken jerky found its way to my bowl, and true to my name, I devoured the reward for a mystery well solved — all in a day’s work for Christine L. Gleason, Pawsburg’s pint-sized detective extraordinaire.

The End.