Hi Mom, just wanted to let you know I’ve been playing a key role in the neighborhood clean-up project. My puppy eyes have convinced so many folks to pitch in and my wagging tail is everyone’s favorite motivation! 😊🐾 – Lilly Bug

It all began ’round suppertime in Spencerville. The kind of twilight that casts long shadows under the trimmed trees of Eastern White Westie Woods. I was lounging in a sunbeam, belly just beginning to rumble with thoughts of Pup-Tastic Pizza. Cheesy crust is my idea of a good time, even with the slight irritation of knowing that cheese puffs and burgers weren’t on tonight’s menu. Can’t always have everything.

They say the gig as Spencerville’s top Bulldog Private Eye is one of those dime-a-dozen jobs. But me? I’m not like the others. Got a nose for trouble as sharp as my right tooth which, by the way, is perpetually visible. Adds a certain character, a touch of je ne sais quoi, as they say in the high-barked circles.

The call came in from The Pampered Pooch Salon – frantic, with a slight wobble. You could hear the curlers jingling in the background, the scratchy static of a Terrier’s panic. “Lilly Bug, it’s Rosie at the Pooch! We got a situation!” Intriguing. No other details, just a desperate tone, pleading for my protective demeanor to rush to the scene.

My stubby tail wiggled, a sure sign something sinister brewed. What could drive Rosie to such agitation? She’s typically wrapped up in eucalyptus facials and pedicures, so you know something’s gnawing at her fur.

I made my way through Maltese Meadow, the scent of fresh grass under my paws. The meadow was spookily quiet, interrupted only by the occasional bark echoing from the South Siberian Summit. There’s always an air of intrigue there, a whiff of mystery.

The Pooch stood as a beacon of luxury amidst the wilderness – curling steam and the clinking of tiny puppy espresso cups. Inside, I found Rosie, her whiskers twitching, eyes wide. “It’s Daisy the Dachshund,” she squeaked, motioning behind a curtain of lavender-scented beads. “She’s gone.”

Now, I’m not one to show shock – my face doesn’t do subtlety well – but this was a twist. Daisy wasn’t the adventurous type. Preferred her spot under the Eastern White Westie Woods, tail tagging at butterflies, occasionally joining me at Fetch-N-Bites for gourmet snacks. And she despised loud noises almost as much as I hated the vet.

“What do you know, Rosie? Talk to me, straight and clear.” My tongue hung thoughtfully to the side as I surveyed the scene. Remote possibilities ran through my mind like one of those remote control cars I adored chasing.

“She came in for her usual trim, chewed on a power drill – you know how she gets – and then poof! Vanished. One moment there, the next, gone.”

Curious indeed. Not many places to sneak out from a salon, save for a nefarious plot or some sort of dog-napping. My mind raced faster than a squirrel up a tree in the backyard – Daisy was like family here, her playful bark always a staple in our community.

I bulldozed through scenarios, each as perplexing as the last. This seemed personal. A memory of Daisy rifling through Christmas presents, the way she’d wag her tiny frame with delight.

“Has anyone seen anything suspicious? Any new dogs sniffin’ around?” I asked, intelligence bouncing off my chubby form like reflections in a lake. Rosie shook her head, tail drooping in defeat.

“Only Mr. Murphy from Woof and Whisker Wellness Center stopped by. But he’s harmless.”

Harmless, indeed. Yet, I couldn’t let the old doc off the leash just yet. I headed over to the Wellness Center, past the Wagging Tail Bookstore (where that golden retriever Emerson barked about literary classics) and over to Murphy’s domain.

Murphy, with his pince-nez and tweak of an ear, greeted me between roars of meditative chants. “Ah, Lilly Bug. What drives the great detective to my humble door?”

“Spill it, Murphy. Daisy is missing, and I need answers. You see anything, hear anything that doesn’t rub the right way?”

He sighed, handing me a bone-shaped stress toy. “Only cosmic disturbances, I’m afraid. But there was a scent…lavender and mischief lingering around Pup-Tastic. Could be something.”

Murphy’s nonsense could fill a kennel, but the scent part made sense. I thanked him with a nod and chewed on the details. Could Daisy have caught a whiff of a rogue pizza purveyor? An old adversary, a rival who needed to silence her playfulness permanently?

As I strolled to Pup-Tastic Pizza, my detective senses prickled. I found Minnie the Maltese lingering by a suspicious pizza box. One sniff told me it was a trail of cheese puffs and deceit, leading back to a familiar foe: the thieving raccoons from the backyard, notorious for their pranks.

Sure enough, in a corner under a camouflage of fawn and white fur, was Daisy, groggy but safe, muttering apologies about following an irresistible scent. She’d been lured, harmlessly pranked, yet terrified.

Case closed, Rosie’s curls relaxed, and Spencerville rejoiced with an extra serving of ice-cream and joy. Daisy, grateful and tired, trudged back to her spot under the trees, finding new appreciation in familiarity.

We all knew Spencerville wasn’t perfect, but it was ours. Every bark, every lick, every mischievous drill made this place the waiting paradise until we could be with our beloved owners again. As for me? I took a tug-of-war victory stance, filled my belly with cheesy delight, and prepared for the next mystery under our Spencerville stars.