“Hey Mum, wild day! Someone nicked the golden milk bone from Pup-Tastic Pizza. Bromo and I sniffed out clues all over Spencerville but hit dead ends till my squeaky toy led us to the Woofy Bakery. Hilariously, the thief was a pup named Spot trying to escape a vet visit! Don’t worry, all’s back to normal now. It’s nap time under the sun for me. Love, your doggie detective, Pearlie!”

Listen to the story here.
Some kinda mayhem had erupted down at the Pup-Tastic Pizza, a popular haunt in Spencerville, a quiet haven just over the rainbow. Unlikely as it was. And decidedly more unusual that it had something to do with Pearl, that hardheaded but well-meaning English bulldog. She was, mind you, the whole cheese of Spencerville, a bit batty, and excessively fond of Carnation stems. No idea why. Just bulldog things, I suppose.

“Word is, someone nicked the golden milk bone,” relayed Bromo, a burly bulldog, half-wheezing half-talking, his stout figure betraying his attempts at delicacy.

Pearl’s one good eye narrowed, the brindle patch around the other adding the air of a steadfast captain, steering her ship through a turbulent storm. “So, they expect me they expect us to find it?” her barks echoed in the otherwise silent Fawn Pug Palace.

“Ay, but who else?” Bromo replied, wiping a paw across his stubbled chin. We were her confidantes, her circle – a ragtag team of doggie detectives.

We hit the Spencerville pavements, our noses to the ground, sniffing out leads at the Cat’s Meow Sushi and Bullmastiff Boardwalk. Even visited the Dapper Dog Salon for good measure. Dead ends and half-chewed sticks. Sophisticated lot, these Spencerville crooks.

Pearl, with her queer love for both mountain trails and the ocean waves, was an unconventional bloodhound of sorts. Her sour face softened a tad at Upper Collie Canyon, where she’d often go for seclusion, hiking, swimming, or a good dig.

The trail was getting colder than a frozen squirrel in winter. While her stubborn streak barked to keep digging, my own pragmatism had my tail between my legs. Even Spencerville’s excitement could crumble under an unsolved mystery.

Out of nowhere, a sqweaky toy eeped, a sound as unexpected as apples in a meat locker.

“Could be a clue, eh?” said Lil Dot, her marble eyes lighting up with hope and intrigue, and a dash of playfulness.

Bromo’s chuckle was more a chuff as he commented, “Winders me why you left this detective thing for kayaking, Pearl.”

Pearl said nothing, her focus entirely on the squeaky toy – her favorite.

The golden milk bone turned up at the back of the Woofy Bakery, of all places, tucked right next to an open bag of flour. Figures it smelled of freshly baked biscuits and Pearl’s favorite – Carnation stems.

A quick visit to Taffy, a parrot with the local gossip, told us of a young pup named Spot who’d been seen lurking around. Fearful of the vet and unaware of his yearly check-up due, the bright pup decided theft was his ticket out of it. Pitiful, but who am I to judge? I loathe baths myself.

So the case was wrapped up, Spencerville breathed easy, and the golden milk bone resided back at the Pup-Tastic Pizza where it belonged. Pearl, of course, shrugged off the adulation with a nonchalant swagger, ready for a nap in the sun, awaiting her reunion with her human. As for us, we knew that even in a nearly perfect town like Spencerville, chaos comes calling, and when it does, our circle of doggie detectives would be ready. After a good fetch and play, of course.