“Hey Dad, just ended my midnight patrol in Pawsburg, thwarts poodle muggers and shadow stalkers. Almost treated myself at Tail Waggers but my paw found no leftovers😅 Pawsburg OTF Squad revealed woeful news, all treats gobbled at Woof & Whisker. Stake Bandit alert! Can’t help but remember that painful carnitas theft. I’m on the case, though, hope to sniff out culprit soon. Sometimes miss the simple dog life, but wouldn’t trade my duty for all the tilapia! Stay tuned. -Teddy Bear”

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In a place called Pawsburg, where never was heard a discouraging bark, the evening had just turned to the darkest part of night. From the comfortable lapping of sleep, I opened one eye and saw the clock. ‘Half-past midnight,’ I acknowledged with a grunt, hauling myself up with more than a few huffs, ‘What a blooming hour for a patrol!’

Those regular, run-of-the-mill citizens nestled in their beds, not a whimper in sight. If only they knew who kept Bulldog Bay safe from those fancy, poodle muggers and sneaky, shadow stalkers. None other than yours truly, Constable Hercules, protector of Western Husky Hill and the Lower Silver Siberian Summit.

Venturing towards Pupperoni Pizza, I ambled past Tail Waggers, catching a whiff of grouper on the breeze. Scrounging in my pockets, I hoped for forgotten tidbits, but alas, my paw found emptiness. ‘The Barking Boutique will have to do tomorrow,’ a passing thought whispered, the dream of a plush steak chew toy dancing in my mind.

My tails wagged as I spotted my mates Margaux and Beatzie, comically chasing their tails, an odd prelude to our evening conundrum. Boss, Coco, and Tank were this side of Lower Silver Siberian Summit, the air thick with the mystery of their plot. “Ahem, any crimes to be solved here?” I bellowed with a grin, my belly echoing the sentiment.

The Pawsburg OTF Squad (Operation Tail Floof) nodded solemnly at the crime in question – someone had gobbled up all the treats from Woof and Whisker Wellness Center.

“Suspect’s fast, potentially fueled by steak,” Boss hypothesized, Tank and Coco’s nods of approval punctuating the statement.

My nostrils flared up at that statement. Steak? The quiver of a conspiracy stirred in my chest, something didn’t seem right. Did I mention that I’ve got a nose for trouble?

Any whispering of a “steak bandit” brought up the vexing memories of the desert, a one-time kingdom turned mirage of enigma. I remembered the crisp, cool winds of an infamous theft – a carnivorous culprit stealing my precious carnitas.

As I solemnly saluted my friends, I couldn’t help but feel a mix of indignation and determination. “WE shall bring this fiend to justice,” I grumbled, marching towards the Fetching Feline Pet Emporium, notorious epicenter for all troublemakers.

The night was balmy, yet filled with enigma and promise. Sometimes I miss being just an average dog, rollicking around the pool, having a go at tug and bashing at chew toys. But then again, without my detective prowess and acute olfactory senses, Pawsburg wouldn’t be the haven it was. No, I wouldn’t trade this for all the tilapia in the sea.

You better watch out Pawsburg, Constable Hercules is on the steak case.

The End.