Spring had arrived with a vengeance. The sun shone brightly after days of relentless rain, but the backyard was now a chaotic, swampy mess. Puddles shimmered like tiny lakes, mud patches lurked like quicksand, and blades of grass sagged under their muddy burden.
Athena, the epitome of husky grace and dignity, stood at the edge of the porch, her paws poised delicately as if even the wooden floor might betray her to the wet world beyond. Her glossy black, grey, and white coat shone under the afternoon sun, and her mismatched eyes, one blue like the sky, the other a deep chestnut, narrowed in suspicion. She was not pleased.
You see, Athena loved spring. She loved the smell of fresh air, the chirping birds, and the feel of sun-warmed earth beneath her paws. But mud? Wet, squelchy, sticky mud? Absolutely not. Wet feet were beneath her.
As she surveyed the yard with the air of a queen inspecting her kingdom, her gaze fell upon her spot, the sunny patch of grass just beyond the porch stairs. It was her sanctuary, her afternoon retreat where she could bask elegantly like a husky-shaped statue. But today, something horrible had occurred. 
There, in the middle of her beloved sunlit haven, were muddy paw prints.
Athena’s ears twitched. Her tail, usually curled with practiced perfection, dropped an inch in horror. Paw prints. Muddy paw prints. On her spot.
Her sharp mind immediately went to the most likely suspect, Obito.
Obito, Athena’s eight-month-old malamute brother, was everything she was not. Where Athena was elegant, Obito was clumsy. Where Athena was composed, Obito was chaotic. And where Athena avoided mud like it was lava, Obito loved mud with an obsession that bordered on madness.
At that moment, Obito was in the far corner of the yard, pouncing on a butterfly with all the grace of a falling potato sack. His large black, tan, and grey frame flopped into a puddle with a splurtch that echoed through the yard. The butterfly, naturally, escaped unscathed, but Obito hardly noticed. He grinned his big, derpy malamute grin, his pink tongue lolling as his enormous paws still comically large for his growing body, sent mud splashing in every direction.  
Athena's eyes narrowed further. Toe beans the size of saucers. The evidence was damning.
With a huff of determination, Athena leapt delicately off the porch, landing on a dry patch of earth with the precision of a gymnast. She picked her way through the yard, stepping only on the driest patches of grass, as though the mud itself might leap up and stain her pristine paws.  
Athena arrived at her sunny spot and sniffed delicately around the muddy paw prints. They were large, misshapen, and utterly offensive to her sensibilities. She lifted her head and turned her gaze toward Obito, who had now rolled onto his back in a muddy puddle and was gnawing enthusiastically at his own tail. The sight made her sigh.  
“Obito!” she barked, her soft but commanding voice ringing across the yard.
Obito paused mid-tail-chomp, his floppy ears perking up. He rolled back over, standing awkwardly on his giant, mud-caked paws. “Hmm? Did you call me, sister?” his eyes seemed to say. He lumbered toward her, his paws leaving deep, sloppy prints in his wake.
Athena recoiled as he approached, the mud on his fur glistening like a badge of shame. “Stay right there,” she barked firmly, backing up a step.  
Obito stopped, tilting his head to the side in confusion. A glob of mud slid off his fur and landed with a wet plop next to Athena. She grimaced.  
“What?” Obito’s goofy grin and wagging tail betrayed his innocence or ignorance. Athena wasn’t sure which. She inspected his paws carefully. They were a match for the prints in her sunny spot, but something about the shapes didn’t quite add up.  
Athena was nothing if not thorough. Her elegant nose twitched as she continued to examine the scene. The muddy prints seemed to lead away from her spot, weaving through the yard in a trail that didn’t align with Obito’s bumbling chaos.  
Suddenly, from the corner of her vision, something moved. A flicker of motion, just a blur, shot up the nearest tree. Athena’s head snapped toward it, eyes blazing with suspicion. The squirrel.
For weeks, a particularly brazen squirrel had been taunting Athena and Obito from the safety of the trees. It was fluffy, twitchy, and to Athena’s chagrin, always one step ahead. Athena’s chest rumbled with a soft growl as the squirrel peered down from a low branch, its beady eyes gleaming with mischief.  
At the base of the tree, a suspiciously muddy patch of grass betrayed the squirrel’s recent movements. Athena froze. The squirrel had been in her sunny spot. The squirrel had made the muddy prints.
Obito, oblivious to the revelation, stomped up beside her. “What’s going on? Are we barking at something?” he seemed to ask, tail wagging like a helicopter blade.  
Athena sighed heavily. For all his derpiness, she couldn’t stay mad at him. She gave Obito’s muddy face a quick, gentle sniff, as if to say, “You’re innocent… this time.”
Just then, the squirrel flicked its tail, chittering arrogantly. Obito spotted it and barked with such enthusiasm that his whole body wobbled. “SQUIRREL!” he roared, launching himself toward the tree with all the subtlety of a cannonball.  
Mud splattered everywhere. Athena yelped and sprang backward, her paws landing squarely in a wet puddle with a humiliating squelch.  
She froze. Her bi-colored eyes widened in horror as she looked down at her now-muddy paws. The squirrel chattered triumphantly before darting up higher into the tree, victorious.  
Obito, still grinning and now plastered in twice as much mud, turned to look at Athena. His smile faltered as he noticed her expression. “Uh… Athena? Are you okay?”  
Athena’s glare could have melted steel. “This is your fault,” her look said.  
By the time their humans called them back inside, Athena had managed to shake off most of her indignation, but not the mud. Obito was herded straight to the tub, his gigantic paws slapping clumsily against the tile floor. Athena followed reluctantly, her elegant pride bruised.
As the water ran, Obito leaned his giant head against her, his tail thumping happily. “It’s not so bad, right? Baths mean treats!”  
Athena sighed, a small smile breaking through her stubborn expression. “I suppose you’re lucky you’re so affectionate,” her eyes seemed to say.
As for the squirrel? Well, Athena would deal with him another day. For now, her biggest concern was getting her paws clean, and making sure Obito didn’t try to drink the bathwater.
The case of the muddy paw prints was closed… but the war on squirrels had only just begun.