Hey hooman! It’s me, Little Buddy, Pawsburgh’s primo pupper detective! 😎🔍 Just dug up a wild case about a ghostly volleyball gone AWOL beneath the Doberman Dunes. I’m on the sniff, decked out in my best disguise, decoding the whispers of the sand and the wise ones of the shore. Stay tuned for pawsome updates! 🐾✨ #MysteryMutt

🐕 Little B.

So there I was, Little Buddy, the Jack Russell with the laser-beam eyes (for spotting squirrels, not for actual lasers) lounging on the shores of Setter Shore in Pawsburgh. It had been an adventurous morning dodging the colossal waves, which were really just ankle high for humans, but let’s not split hairs – for a pup of my stature, it’s Poseidon-level stuff.

Now, dogs have their fair share of mysterious goings-on, and I’d heard whisperings by the hydrants that something was amiss around the Doberman Dunes. “Buddy!” barked Sadie, a beagle with a nose for news, “Have you heard about the vanishing volleyball?” I tilted my head so far it almost unscrewed from my neck.

“Vanishing volleyball?” I yipped. This was indeed an X-File – or, as we in Pawsburgh called it, a P-File – with my name all over it.

Dodging a slobber-drenched frisbee flung by some overzealous Labrador, I made my way to the Pampered Pooch Salon to gather information. Gossip traveled faster in Pawsburgh than the latest squeaky toy fad. Sasha, the salon’s poodle proprietor, waved me in with a freshly manicured paw.

“Buddy, darling,” she began in that curious way of hers that made every word sound like it was dipped in chicken gravy – my favorite. “The volleyball from last week’s tournament. Poof! No more.”

“Ruh-roh!” I couldn’t help but exclaim in my best canine impression of bewilderment. A mystery was afoot, er, apaw.

My next stop was the Snooty Snout Boutique for some undercover disguise shopping, because everyone knows you can’t investigate in broad daylight without a pair of tinted goggles and an unnecessarily large hat. I left the boutique blending in with every other inconspicuous Jack Russell in detective garb. It was time for some good old-fashioned sleuthing, Little Buddy style.

Underneath the Doberman Dunes, the sand was warm and, well, sandy. Paw prints of every shape created a mosaic of beach day fun, yet yielded no clue about our invisible volleyball. I was contemplating the possibility of a ghost dog when I heard a rustle coming from the Fetching Feline Pet Emporium next door.

Creeping closer, ears perked like satellite dishes, I spotted the wise old cat, Stella. She gave me a nod that suggested this wasn’t just about a missing ball. “Have you felt the tremble beneath the dunes?” she purred in a voice as smooth as the cream by the window spilt this morning.

“Tremble?” I wondered aloud. My pal the squirrel, Chitters, scurried down a nearby palm tree, gravity-defying as usual; even my pigeon friend, Coo, swooped down. My animal instincts tingled worse than that time I tried to sniff a bee.

“Buddy, the volleyball didn’t just disappear,” Chitters chittered, dropping an acorn of wisdom. “It was swallowed by the sands!”

“That’s right,” Coo cooed, bobbing her head like she’s listening to some invisible tune. “Something’s stirring from beneath, and the dunes are its camouflage.”

Could this be an alien entity? A subterranean canine creature from an ancient time? My friends looked at me for answers, but all I could muster was a drooly pant, because I was imagining how fabulous that volleyball might taste after a good sand marinate.

I couldn’t chase my tail on this one. There was a phenomenon at paw and I, Little Buddy, would get to the bottom of it. Or at least, have a fun time digging huge holes in the sand until I did.

Oh, Pawsburgh, you’re a land of endless escape, but sometimes, it’s the mystery that leads us home – or at least back to the food bowl filled with juicy chicken and distinctly non-green treats.

The End.