Hey Dad,

Cracked the Pet Peaks case! Turned out Bella was just surprising us with a haul of rope toys. Bet you’d have sniffed this out way faster! Just another day in the life of Spencerville’s finest sniff-sleuth, eh? Gotta run, grilled chicken’s calling and this detective never keeps dinner waiting.

Wags and woofs,
Test Dog

In a town like Spencerville, where tail-wags are currency and every bark tells a tale, the strange was as common as dirt on a digger’s snout. But even in the hubbub of such everyday ineffabilities, there lurks a shadow, a scent on the wind that even the finest of Schnauzerville’s trackers couldn’t place.

As the local legend goes, or so they whisper in the alleys between The Barking Boutique and the Happy Hounds Dog Walking Emporium, my knack for sniffing out a story was second to none—except perhaps when it comes to locating that elusive grilled chicken. Life here melds the peculiar with the paw-dinary, but what unfolded next would make the Dalmatian Desert’s mirages look as plain as a bowl of dry kibble.

It all started as most things do, with a scent, something tickling my nose at the edge of Upper Collie Canyon, somewhere between the unlikely and the impossible. It was a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside a squeaky chew toy; a case, in fact, that could only be described as Pet Peaks—a tail like no other.

If you must know, I’m what you’d call a pet detective around these parts. I’d been lounging outside Pawsome Pancakes, pondering a second helping and the virtues of syrup over my beloved grilled ensemble when the winds of fate huffed and they puffed and blew a curious scent my way.

“Test Dog!” Max had bounded up to me, nostrils flaring, “You’ve got to help! Bella’s gone missing!”

I perked up. Bella, with a coat to make even the sun envious, doesn’t just wander off. Plus, she’s one of us—a part of the heart, the soul, and, on poker nights, the wallet.

“Missing,” I mulled over the word like a chunk of particularly fibrous steak, “That’s a heavy word, Max. Are we sure she didn’t trot over to the Pampered Pooch for a spontaneous spa day?”

Max shook his head, ears flopping. “She wouldn’t leave without telling us.”

Gathering the gang—sans Bella, of course—we convened upon Husky Hill for a panoramic pow-wow. Tito bared his teeth in what one might call a smile but looked more like he was auditioning for the role of ‘dangerous waste disposal unit’.

“We’ve got ourselves a tail-twister, my friends,” I announced to the assembly, “And by dog, we’re going to untwist it.”

Leading my loyal pack, we embarked on an investigation that had us combing every nook, cranny, and doggy door in Spencerville. We snooped and we snuffled, we questioned every cat with a grudge and every squirrel with a secret. Each clue led to another, a breadcrumb trail that had us chasing our tails more than once.

Oh the places we searched! We left no stone unturned, from Pupsicle Palace to the eerie expanse of the Dalmatian Desert, where mirages taunted us with visions of water bowls as far as the eye could see.

All through the escapade, I couldn’t shake the feeling of an untold punchline to a joke we were all part of but hadn’t heard the setup. Squirrels chattered above as though they knew the punchline, leaves rustled sotto voce, and even the stars seemed to wink and nudge each other knowingly.

But as all good tales (and tails) go, the unexpected was waiting right around the corner, with a wet nose and a happy bark. As fate, with its ridiculous sense of timing, would have it, Bella wasn’t missing at all. She’d happened upon a hidden glade, one I hadn’t shared with the others—the one beyond Miller’s farm where the grass whispered and the sky stretched like a big blue ‘fetch’ waiting to be played.

“Oh, Test Dog,” Bella’s laugh echoed as she emerged from the greenery, “You should’ve seen your face!”

Turns out, she’d unearthed a secret stash—the motherlode of all rope toys. And believe it or not, she wanted to surprise us. “I wanted it to be,” she paused, a twinkle in her eye, “a peak moment.”

We laughed until we couldn’t, then laughed some more because dogs are a smidge simple that way. And as the sun set on another day in Spencerville, Bella with her river of gold, Max, Tito, all my siblings, and I watched the horizon, content in the knowledge that home is where the heart is—and also where the chicken is grilled, and most certainly not where the peas are.

As for me, Test Dog, pet detective extraordinaire, I learned that every mystery has its place, be it in the shadows of Upper Collie Canyon, or in the hearts of those I call family. And if there’s ever another case that needs a bit of canine cunning, well, you know where to find me. Just follow the laughter to Spencerville.

The End.