The Great Mysteries in Life

The Great Mysteries in Life

Golden Furrin, a Yellow Lab, aims to realize the great mysteries in life as a detective. However, she discovers that mysteries aren't always a stolen necklace or the like; it can be just as simple--and strange--as throwing a book out a window.

Chapter 1

Stupidity and Throwing a Book Out a Window

I was in my office, when she came in. She was a pretty enough damsel, blond, tan, blue eyes. She had a certain air of-something I couldn't sense, but it smelled like danger. I-

What? Why am I reading this? I don't even like this stuff! I put the book on the seat next to me and stuck my nose out the window. Ah, that's nice. Except for the fact that the taxi driver decided to close the window just then. Ouch. I rubbed my throbbing nose and went back to reading.

I looked up from my text. A good literature, but this woman was obviously in need of help. I could tell by the way she looked around the room. She-

Who reads this trash? Why am I? I can't believe that thing is a bestseller. I tossed the book out the window. Then, I forgot where we were going. "Driver, where are we going?"

"A tisket, a tasket," replied the taxi driver.

"What? Is that supposed to make sense, 'cuz it didn't. Well, change of plans. Take me to the bookstore."

"I'm afraid I can't do that, father." he once again confused me with his speaking.


"Mary had a little chicken."

Ugh. I'm getting out of this thing before he starts getting weirder. "I'm outta here, you're not worth paying."

I opened the door and realized that the whole time we were just sitting in a parking space in the parking lot at the bookstore. I knew this because the book I tossed out the window was sitting at my feet. Agh! I picked it up and put it in my pack, then went inside the store. I saw a good book, titled Fox in the Moonlight. Anything's better than that other crap. I paid for it and put it in my pack, then went back into the parking lot. Having nothing better to do, I just went back to the stupid taxi and got in, instructing the idiot driver to take me home, then giving him my address, 5892 Birchstar Dr. A strange name for a street, you say, but I say it's not a street, it's a doctor, because Dr. stands for doctor. I live on Birchstar doctor. Duh.

After writing this in my dumb journal my mom makes me do, I looked up and saw that the taxi driver had messed up and taken me to the local Spy HQ. Hey, wait a minute. How'd he find…

My head jerked up from my journal. "I said, my house, not this secret place that you somehow know how to get to!"

"Get out, Golden," he said in a strangely menacing voice. Totally freaked out, I got out and backed up a few steps, then turned and ran into the door of the HQ, not wanting to stay with him any longer.

"Hello. Glad you could make it."

I spun. "Who…" There was a woman in a prim red dress standing behind me, which was odd, because red is so not in this season.

"Didn't Agent V tell you? He was instructed to drive you here."

"Some taxi dude drove me here…"

"Ah, that must be him. He is very good with disguises."

I blinked, then decided to ignore it. After all, the life of a spy dog is really rather strange.

"Well…why do you want me here? I'm on my time off."

"We realize that, Golden. But, we had an emergency that only a spy dog could follow through. Please, take a look."

The woman smiled, and I didn't know why until I realized that the floor we were standing on seemed to be melting! Oh no wait, it was just going down like an elevator. I hate elevators.

Oh, I know what you're thinking. This isn't a mystery book, it's a spy book. Right now, you think, Dogs can't be detectives! but I think, I'm not a dog, I'm a yellow lab, which is completely different. I am a yellow lab.

When the floor stopped melting-sinking-elevatoring, we were in the SpyPet underground lab, which is where labs go because that's why it's called a lab.

My squeakytoy! Squeakles! I saw my squeaky stuffed dragon laying next to a pile of my other toys, like my dingle ball, Dingly; my fluffy bunny, Fluffly; and my Person Slipper, PersonSlippery. I love them all but not as much as Squeakles.

I repeatedly squeaked Squeakles as a man in a blue and black spy outfit walked up to me and smiled. Then he removed my regular sparkly and kind of faded gold ribbon from around my neck and replaced it with a sparkly red and kind of faded ribbon. I hate collars. Add that to my list of things I hate along with elevators and people who take Squeakles.

Who's the guy, you ask? Well I ask that he's my RibbonPersonGuy. That's not something you can ask, you say? Well I say that you should stop saying things because you're already being a stalker by reading my private journal.


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