“Mom, you won’t believe, but this grand chase at Lower Silver Siberian Summit turned out to be just Sylvester causing donut disarray! Got quite a fright but ended up having a midnight snack out of it. All’s well that ends well, right? – Love, Harold The Hound”

Listen to the story here.

There I was, Harold, patrolling Lower Silver Siberian Summit under the moonlight. My fur, as brown as the earth I tread upon, and eyes glow an eerie yellow in the night. I guess that’s the wolf in me, untamed and ever-watchful.

My companions this grim evening were Smiley and George, the reliable, if not humorous, pair. As we passed by the Furry Friends Art Gallery, recognizable by its playful paintings that jovially peered at us through the glass screens, an irksome, almost haunting sound reverberated around the alleyways.

We froze, our ears perking and noses twitching, our senses keenly tuned to this seemingly supernatural occurrence. Suddenly, Pugsley came running in, white as a ghost, and whimpering. He stuttered something about a terrifying creature lurking around Doggy Donuts.

With an air of unease slowly descending upon us, we raced towards Doggy Donuts. I could see the chilling effect that the incident was beginning to have on Smiley and George, but I kept my naive fears at bay. After all, I was Harold, of Spencerville.

As we arrived, a deathly silence was hung around the once vibrant place. I commanded the others to stay together while we nervously ventured in, hoping to find some answers. What met our eyes was indeed a spine-chilling spectacle. All the donuts and pastries were scattered across the premises in a wild disarray. Nothing seemed to be missing, but everything was a damned mess.

Fear had clasped the others, but my wolf instincts took over. I sniffed the air, searching for any unusual scent that might give us some lead. The air was thick with the sweetness of pastries, but there it was, a faint whiff of a familiar scent.

My mind raced back to the times of my solitude, the times when I, Harold, was frightened by my own fears. It was Sylvester! That sneaky cat, too audacious, even for my taste! I slapped my forehead, annoyed. The mystery was solved, for so-called mystery it was. Old fears and domestic scuffles suddenly didn’t seem so terrifying anymore.

With my heart pounding and the adrenaline rush fading away, I couldn’t help laughing, albeit manically, at our own silliness. I picked up a donut with a cheeky smile and ushered the others, “Well, as long as we’re here, anyone for a midnight snack?”

Even in the face of the terrifying antics of Spencerville, I was Harold, ever-loyal and always affectionate. If only Mom and Dad could see me now, they’d be howling in delight. Even in fright, I couldn’t help but relish the occasional madness of my dog life.

The End.