Hey, just Ruger here, updating the crew. Partnered with Bruno, we sniffed out an orange-flavored mystery at Retriever River. On a case about swapped sushi at Cat’s Meow. Our lead: lingering scent of guilt at the pet pharmacy. Small town, big surprises. Got to run, scrambled eggs won’t eat themselves. Over and out, R.

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The moon had barely risen above the Lower Silver Siberian Summit when I found myself, Ruger, sneaking out of the house, my tail swishing with excitement. The outline of Pawsburg lay ahead, the familiar territory pulsating with brackets of fun that each night promised.

I arrived at Retriever River, the moonlight dancing off the ripples, a sight enough to lighten even the heaviest canine hearts. One quick glance revealed my partner in mystery, Bruno, his burly silhouette barely visible in the evening’s cloak. His tail thumped against the earth, a silent greeting.

“We got a case, Ruger,” he announced, his eyes gleamed with the thrill that was to follow. “Tabby from The Cat’s Meow Sushi went on sick leave; apparently someone swapped her fish for a bag of oranges.”

I snorted. Of all the fruits in Pawsburg, why did it have to be oranges? Suppressing my distaste, I followed Bruno, our pawsteps echoing down Western Labradoodle Lake.

Our first stop? Paws-A-Latte, the town’s main gossip joint. Muffled barks and hushed whispers greeted us. The atmosphere was tense, hushed…tabby’s incident had left an impression. We went from one dog to another, sniffing out any unusual scent. Information flowed, trickling through pugs, terriers, and retrievers.

As we headed out, the answer was buried under heaps of irrelevant chatter, but the scent was there, lingering like a stubborn tick.

Then an idea struck me. The Pawsome Pet Pharmacy! If our perp disliked Tabby enough to mess with her food, maybe they had tried to cure an ailment?

I sniffed around, and there it was, the smell of sour oranges mingling with antibacterial, the subtle hint of guilt dropped, not too long ago. A flutter of nerves, an abnormality that stood out in Pawsburg. My gaze fell on a familiar canine mosaic, a blue ticked menace. Aren’t small towns full of surprises?

Turing to Bruno, I let out a short bark. There was a mystery to solve. As we delved deeper, naughty dogs to confront, and a town to reassure, I thought about the scrambled eggs waiting for me home, a just reward for a detective dog like me.

The End.

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