The Unlikely Adventure of CG5, Cameron Monaghan, and DHeusta

Chapter 4: The Search Begins

Charlie jogged toward the west side of the park, shaking the bag of treats as he went. "Biscuit! Here, boy!" he called, whistling every few steps.

He passed joggers, picnickers, and a group of kids flying kites. Everyone seemed to be enjoying their day—everyone except Charlie.

"Have you seen a golden retriever?" he asked a woman pushing a stroller.

"No, sorry," she replied.

"What about you?" he asked a teenager on a skateboard.

The teen shrugged. "Nah, man."

Charlie sighed, feeling the frustration building. Biscuit could be anywhere by now.

Meanwhile, on the east side of the park, Dallin was having slightly better luck. He spotted a trail of paw prints in the dirt near a row of bushes. Kneeling down, he inspected the prints like a detective at a crime scene.

"Alright, Biscuit," he murmured. "You've left me a breadcrumb trail. Let's see where it leads."

The paw prints led him to a small pond, where a group of ducks were quacking noisily. Dallin scanned the area but didn't see Biscuit.

"Figures," he muttered. "This dog's as elusive as Bigfoot."

His phone buzzed. It was Charlie.

"Any sign of him?" Charlie asked, his voice tinged with worry.

"Not yet, but I found some paw prints near the pond," Dallin replied. "How about you?"

"Nothing. Just a lot of people giving me weird looks for whistling and shaking a treat bag."

Dallin chuckled. "Keep at it. Biscuit's got to be around here somewhere."

Just as they were about to regroup, Dallin spotted movement in the distance. A golden blur darted between the trees, heading toward a cluster of picnic tables.

"Charlie! I think I've got him!" Dallin yelled into the phone.

"Where are you?" Charlie asked, already sprinting.

"Near the playground, by the picnic tables!" Dallin said, running after Biscuit.

When Charlie arrived, Dallin was crouched behind a tree, trying to coax Biscuit out from under a table.

"Come on, buddy," Dallin said, holding out a treat. "It's tasty. You know you want it."

Biscuit wagged his tail but didn't budge. He seemed more interested in the remains of someone's sandwich than in the treat.

Charlie joined Dallin, kneeling beside him. "Biscuit, please. Don't make me write a song about this."

At the sound of Charlie's voice, Biscuit perked up. He hesitated for a moment, then trotted out from under the table.

Charlie quickly clipped the leash onto his collar. "Gotcha!" he said, breathing a sigh of relief.

Dallin grinned. "Mission accomplished."

Charlie looked at Biscuit, who was panting happily as if nothing had happened. "You're lucky you're cute," he muttered.