Hey, just a quick update: It’s Lola, the four-legged PI of Pawsburgh. Cracked the case of the Catnip Cartel with my tail wagging crew. Mittens was the purrpetrator, but Tom’s innocent – just a cookie coincidence. Keeping this town’s mysteries on a short leash! #DetectiveDog 🕵️‍♀️🐾🔍

Apologies to folks with delicate sensibilities, but let me tell ya, Pawsburgh isn’t all fire hydrants and happy tail wags. My name’s Lola, and while I do have the aforementioned soulful peepers and an ear that marches to the beat of its own drum, I’ve also got a nose for the unusual, a taste for misadventure – and a knack for uncovering the unsavory shenanigans that unfold beneath the veneer of this doggone town’s charming façade.

So, it all started one steamy afternoon in Opal Pomeranian Park, as I sprawled across the meadow that could charm the collar off a saint. Rosie, the dainty beagle with an Indiana Jones edge, bounded over with news that had her ears flapping faster than a hummingbird’s wings at a flower festival.

“Lola,” she barked, barely containing her excitement, “Maxim caught a scent of trouble by Briard Bridge!”

Maxim, that sophisticated greyhound, could probably catch a scent from a mile away on a foggy day. When he runs, he’s nothing but a streak of ambition and elegance – but today he had scampered over with worry tugging on his tail.

“Yeah, it’s true,” he panted. “Something’s going down at Kelpie Keys, and my gut tells me it’s not your average game of fetch.”

We had a mystery on our paws, all right. I glanced at Whiskers, who had been lounging nearby, pretending not to listen. She caught my eye and shrugged – as much as a cat can shrug – assuring me she was in cahoots.

“What are we waiting for? Let’s hot-paw it down there,” I suggested, my tail wagging up its own storm.

We trotted through town, past The Dapper Dog Salon, where Fifi the poodle was getting a perm that defied gravity, and by Best in Show Photography, where a bulldog bride and groom were sharing a drooly kiss.

But our fun and games ended there because what we found at Kelpie Keys curled my whiskers. There, hidden beneath the docks, was a heist – the notorious Catnip Cartel smuggling in ‘nip and dog biscuits shaped like fire hydrants. And the big dog behind it all?

Mittens.

Yes, Mittens – the Persian queen of the feline underworld. Fur softer than a pile of fresh laundry, heart colder than a freezer burn. I thought she and I had an understanding, but now, well, heck, she was toying with us like a ball of yarn.

Who was she working with? That’s where things got ruff. It turns out one of our own, a dog from the inside, was wheelin’ and dealin’ with Mittens. But who could it be?

The clues were as sparse as fur on a hairless chihuahua until Maxim sniffed out something unusual by Wagging Whisk, Pawsburgh’s culinary hotspot. A trail of those illicit dog biscuits – and wouldn’t ya know, they led straight to Puppy Patisserie.

“Tom’s bakery?” My heart sank like a stone in a pond. Could my beloved human be entangled in this web of deceit?

Before you could say “squirrel,” we were creeping into the back of Puppy Patisserie, me trying my best to look nonchalant, which is pretty hard to do when you’re a pit bull with a floppy ear.

And there, amidst the smells of freshly baked dog treats and watermelon slice concoctions (have mercy, my favorite!), was Tom in the doughy flesh. But, to my relief, he wasn’t wearing a look of criminal mastermind. Nope, he was as surprised as a cat in a bathtub.

“Lola?” He gasped, nearly dropping a tray of non-illicit cookies. “What are you doing here without your leash?”

Turns out, he was just making extra treats for the needy pups down at the shelter. The trail of biscuits? Merely a coincidence, a dropped stash by the nervous accomplice, the inexplicably jittery schnauzer from Retriever’s Restaurant.

The real criminal canine? Caught later that day trying to make a great escape on a skateboard, whirling past Pet Partners Pet Supplies. Quite the spectacle, I assure you.

So, what do ya know? All’s well that ends with a belly rub and a good sniff around town – but always keep one ear up. You never know when Pawsburgh might need a detective with a tail that wags for justice – and the occasional bite of watermelon.

The End.