It was one of those nice, lazy summer days, and the park was the best idea my owner had put forth since getting me in the first place. Me, being the plump pug that I am, thought of it no more than stolen food. Really, it was the loss of someone close, the trust.
“Wanna go to the park, Winny? Do ya? Do ya?!” Owner cooed. She seemed awfully excited about her good idea, and I barked at her in agreement. I was getting tired of the baby talk, so I ran to the coat hanger where we kept my leash. Before I could get there though, Owner clipped the forest green rope on my neck. She held open our apartment door, and I dashed down the hallway, pulling her right to the elevator.
My happiness flew while in the car, and before I knew it, the big metal gates of the city park were overhead. Owner and I went down the cobbled path, straight to our first stop, Winkle’s Weiner Stand. With the faded yellow sign and juicy sausage smell, I felt in heaven. The line was relatively short, so soon enough, we got our regular. 2 Hot Dogs, and a side of water in a tray. We then continued to follow the cobbled path as the ground got muddier. The quieter part of the park, where willows swept shade down, and the grass a permanent juicy green, was where we would set as our spot, always, because it was never crowded. Walking across a bikeway, Owner lay a blanket down, watching me and laughing as I gobbled the juicy meat down in two seconds. Owner unwrapped her own sausage, choosing a boring route of savoring. Blech. I waddled over to a willow tree, in a deep food coma, to rest in the shade. I lay my head down, but not a minute later, Owner screamed. I smelt lavender, and opened my eyes to a bush rustling, and an empty bun, lonely in Owner’s hand. Her face, looking down at the bread in shock.
I howled in anguish. “NOOO!” I ran over to comfort Owner, and lick the greasy bun. Mostly the second thing though. After the bun eating, I began to find clues. We NEEDED to find this sausage. I pulled against the leash, just in order to smell the ground. It was that same lavender smell, and a set of wet paw prints going into a bush. I barked at it, maybe to scare the thief. Nothing happened, though. Owner giggled. “This is serious, lady!” I yapped. Owner let go of the leash in amusement. I ran along the moist ground, into the bush, Owner’s voice began fading, I think she was yelling to get back. No time, I wanted to say, but she wouldn’t of understood anyway. I barked again. This time, I heard a response, several responses, actually. I groaned. I had followed the tracks to the dog park! There were at least a hundred different dogs, finding who did it would be impossible! I sighed, laying down.
A small fluffy dog ran over to me. “Hey, Winny!” she called. Fluffy was my good friend. Her owner spoiled her, but she was really nice. I was a little shocked at her usually pristine fur. It was covered in leaves, and she had dark mud all over her. “I can’t really talk right now-” I was side tackled by a big bundle of ginger fur. “WINNY! I didn’t know you’d be here!” Sam, another friend of mine, wagged her tail, pinning me down. Her coat was covered in dry, reddish dust, the stuff that has replaced most of the grass in the dog park. Obviously, I looked a little confused. “Oh, We were just rolling in the dirt.” Fluffy said, reading my mind. Sam looked slightly confused with this comment, but changed the subject “What’s up?!” She asked, seeing my wrinkly face etched with worry.
“My owner’s hot dog was stolen!” gasping, Fluffy ran off, barking to us that she’d find suspects. All of our owners watched a show, ‘Sherlock’ I think, where these guys solve mysterious problems. This was our chance to be in our own! She was awfully hurried, but I thought it was just excitement.
In the next 30 seconds, Fluffy was back with an angry chihuahua who was not happy to be investigated. We nudged him into a bush, and began our questioning. What turned up was that the little guy became so terrified that he began barking his head off, and his owner took him. Our next few suspects were just as clueless.
“What’s a sausage?”
“I didn’t do anything!!” *sobs*
“I admit it! I dug up Owner’s garden!’
I sighed, about to give up, when Fluffy brought in a spaniel, her fluffy eyebrows furrowed. “This one’s a bad apple, Charlie goes to my salon, and he’s constantly taking all the treats!” She snootily stuck her nose in the air, proud of herself for finding the villain. I took a once over of the small dog. His fur was shiny white with ginger spots, his eyes glaring at me. Something smelled familiar. I sniffed the air, and found the lavender scent again… I gasped. “I know who did it!” pushing my squat nose at Charlie. “I know that smell! It was there at the crime scene!” I said triumphantly. I was about to congratulate Fluffy, when Sam spoke up. “Wait a minute, Win, This don’t add up. Look at his fur! It’s blinding me it’s so clean! Now look at your fur.” I turned my head self consciously. Burrs were stuck along it, and mud streaked through. “Guess I got a little muddy running here!” I laughed nervously. Was I wrong? Sam looked at me, her head cocked. “Now how do you think Charlie here got clean so fast?”
“But who could of done it if it wasn’t Charlie? That smell is the one that was there when the hot dog was taken!” Charlie suddenly spoke. His voice was annoyed, but also seemed like he was talking to a pup. “It’s the shampoo that they use on us at the salon, and many dogs go there. I had an appointment this morning, so did Fluffy.” I looked doubtfully at Fluffy. She would never willingly get dirty, and wouldn’t just roll in mud. “Hey, I’ll find someone else to investigate, I know most dogs who go to the place.” Charlie began walking away. “I’d take a look at Fluffy’s fur, ya know…” he quietly woofed, sniffing a bush. Fluffy began to walk out of our bush fort. “Wait, Fluffy!” I barked out to her. She looked back at me. “What, Winn?” I stopped. It couldn’t be her. It just couldn’t. “Never mind.” I said, she gave me a strange look, but then pranced off.
“Why didn’t you say anything? It’s her you know, right?” Sam looked at me. I glared at her. “It’s not her! She wouldn’t do that! We’re too good of friends!” I broke out, yapping at my faithful friend. She backed up a little but calmly said, “If you don’t do it, I will.” She then ran to catch Fluffy. I felt terrible. I thought she was a great friend. Why would she? She got caviar as dinner every night! Sam came back to me, without Fluffy. “It’s her.” she simply said. Emotionlessly, she walked out of the bush again. I lay down, tail drooping.
Minutes, hours, days later I heard my name being called. It was Owner. I gave a half hearted bark back. She pulled me out of the bush into a hug. “I was worried!” She squeezed me tighter. I snorted back. She cradled me like a baby, and we walked along the now shadowed path to the front. As we left those large metal gates, a small voice called. “I’m sorry..” It was Fluffy. Her owner had her in one of those dog sweaters, and I suddenly understood. She would never get the taste of a hike, or to share a scoop of ice cream. Her life was perfect, but at the same time all wrong. “ got so jealous of you, it just happened.” she said meekly. Owner began walking faster, seeing how I was barking, but I pushed myself out of her arms. I ran over, and “I forgive you,” was all I could say.