In the quiet heart of a suburban back garden kingdom ruled by chaos and chew toys, a mystery was brewing, one that would require cunning, determination, and at least three bath towels. The royal siblings of this noble land, Athena and Obito, were lounging on their usual thrones, Athena sprawled atop a carefully curated pile of blankets like a model in a fur-lined crime drama, and Obito, half-melted across a patch of sun-warmed deck like a fuzzy puddle of adoration and drool.
Athena, the elder of the two, was the picture of grace and poise, unless, of course, a rogue butterfly passed within striking distance or the urge to leap entirely over a loveseat struck her mid-zoomie. Her eyes, one an icy blue so pale it seemed carved from glacier, the other a deep, expressive chestnut that could guilt even the most jaded human into an extra treat, scanned the back garden with the intensity of a true leader. Her coat shimmered in the sunlight, black, grey, and white like a Monet painting done with attitude. She was beautiful. She was brilliant. She was a menace to landscaping.
Obito, her younger brother, was the very embodiment of affectionate chaos. Towering, shaggy, and still growing into feet that looked like they belonged to a slightly smaller moose, Obito didn’t walk, he flumped. His face, a dramatic canvas of black and tan, with eyebrows that gave him a permanent look of confused optimism, was often soaking wet from a passionate round of “kiss the furniture.” Nicknamed Mr. Toe Beans by the humans for reasons evident the first time he stepped squarely onto someone’s face during a nap, Obito was a walking teddy bear fueled by snuggles and anything even vaguely edible.
It began on a lazy Tuesday.
Athena was mid-sunbath, daydreaming of snacks and world domination, when a gasp echoed across the yard.
“Obito!” she barked, leaping to her paws and startling the poor boy so thoroughly he sat on a tennis ball and squeaked. “Where’s the pool float?”
Obito blinked slowly. “What’s a float?”
“You know,” she growled, pacing dramatically, “the bright pink flamingo thing we chew on but are not supposed to. It’s always by the pool. Where is it now?”
Obito squinted at the pool. “Maybe it turned invisible.”
Athena sighed. This was going to be a long day.
Thus began The Mystery of the Missing Pool Float, a case that would shake the foundation of the back garden to its freshly dug-up roots. Athena, donning her imaginary detective hat and possibly an actual towel cape, appointed herself lead investigator. Obito followed loyally, his face full of hope and a leaf stuck to his slobbery jowl.
The first suspect was obvious, Munchkin the cat. Munchkin lounged on the patio table, cleaning his ears with the smugness of someone who had definitely committed multiple crimes and knew you couldn’t prove any of them.
Athena trotted up with her tail high and ears forward. “Where were you this morning around float o’clock?”
Munchkin blinked. Then yawned. Then farted and walked away.
Obito gasped. “He’s hiding something!”
They checked under the deck. No float. Just a very confused toad and what might’ve once been a sandwich. Athena sniffed the garden and got distracted mid-sniff by her second favorite activity, digging up the begonias. Obito, in his enthusiasm, tried to help but mostly succeeded in burying his own face. When he emerged, blinking, covered in dirt and joy, Athena sighed again.
“Focus, Mr. Toe Beans. The float isn’t going to find itself.”
Then came the squirrels. Oh, the squirrels. A tribunal of them gathered on the fence like a fuzzy jury, twitching their tails in a manner that could only be interpreted as suspicious. Athena barked furiously. One dropped an acorn on Obito’s head. He wagged his tail in response, thrilled to be included.
“Do you think they floated it away?” Obito asked, dead serious.
Athena gave him a long, tired stare. “Do you think they built a squirrel navy?”
Obito looked thoughtful. “Maybe.”
They searched high and low. Behind the shed. Inside the overturned kiddie pool. In the laundry pile, where Obito found a sock he hadn’t seen since Tuesday and had to take a full minute to celebrate. Just when Athena was about to declare the float officially stolen and start drawing up paw-sketched wanted posters, she heard something.
A rustle.
A squeak.
The unmistakable honk of a pool float being mildly offended by a breeze.
She stalked toward the sound, each step full of noble purpose and bits of tulip root. Obito galloped after her like a runaway mattress.
There, tangled in a bush just beyond the swing set, flopped the flamingo float, utterly unharmed, albeit slightly deflated and wearing what appeared to be a spiderweb hat.
Athena stared.
Obito let out a high-pitched “WOOF!” and flopped onto it in joy, causing the float to let out a long, depressed wheeze.
They had solved the mystery. The float had never been stolen. It had simply escaped the confines of obedience, perhaps seeking adventure, or just getting caught in a windstorm. Either way, the crisis was averted.
Athena strutted back to the house with all the grace of a queen returning from war. Obito galloped behind her, the float dragging from his mouth, leaving a trail of triumphant grass clippings.
As they reached the door, Munchkin eyed them with unimpressed boredom.
Athena glanced up at him. “Case closed.”
Munchkin knocked a pot off the railing.
Inside, Athena snuggled deep into her blanket nest, victorious and covered in mud. Obito flopped beside her, accidentally kicking her once in the face, then licking it as an apology.
“Princess?” he asked sleepily.
“Yes, Mr. Toe Beans?”
“Next time we lose the float… can we let it stay gone?”
She chuckled softly, curling into the safety of sibling warmth and crushed begonias.
“We’ll see.”
And outside, in the soft breeze of a nearly-missed mystery, the pink flamingo float honked once… and deflated into silence.


©️Lainey Green - Intwined.blog