Wait, maybe I used the wrong word. I don’t smell any rye bread anywhere.
Something smells fishy?
Did I say fishy? Where’s the fish? Where? Where?
Oh, no fish. I don’t even smell any. Guess I’d better find another word.
Let’s see- it smells like the charcoal remains of a former fire. Like a barbecue without the meat.
No meat! There’s got to be some criminal offense here.
I’d better get my Detective Dog hat on.
What happened here?
Someone had a fire on my trails and didn’t invite me.
And I bet they had treats and goodies and stuff like hot dogs and s‘ mores.
And they didn’t invite me.
Wait a minute!
No wonder they didn’t invite me.
They’re not even supposed to have a fire on my trails – and even if they could, fire restrictions are in effect. No fires anywhere.
It’s really dry out here. My puddle hasn’t even shown itself in a long time.
I bet those people know that as Detective Dog – a law abiding citizen dog (well almost) – I would be required to turn them in if I discovered who they are.
And I certainly wouldn’t want my trails to burn up.
So I’m investigating this one for sure.
And as soon as I discover who they are they’d better watch out.
I’m going to gather up all my dog buddies and after we water down their fire, we’re going to water down those culprits too.
See if they ever try starting a fire on my trails again.