By: Kyle Xu

“Fiddle-dee-dee-day-wittle-wee-wee, tiddle-tee-tee-yay-kiddle-neeh-neeh,” I sang at the top of my lungs, taking my morning stroll around the neighborhood. I got a few strange glances from the Wilsons, my next-next-next-next door neighbors, a pitying look from my buddy Rock, and a demeaning glare from a stray tabby cat. Oh, well.

No human seemed to understand the beauty of music these days, let alone cats, I thought. I could very well be the only “fiddle-dee-dee”er in the entire world. Not even my engineering partner, Rock (who lived in the doghouse in the front lawn), who was a kindred spirit at times, valued music.

I walked into my house, refreshed, while Rock bounded after me. Some dogs have no respect these days, but Rock was a natural. If I didn’t take him with me on my walks, he could demolish my entire pantry in a matter of seconds and still have room for my cereal on the kitchen counter. I would constantly find him crouched on the table, licking up scraps of my caviar (outrageous!) while shaking his rear end from one side to another (distaste!).

Today, though, I walked to the dinner table to find boxes of my favorite snacks all set out on the table. A huge plate sat in the center, and from the food stains and nutella chocolate mix, it was pretty clear that a mountain of food had once taken residence on the plate, now devoured. Checking my paper box of chex mix and shaking my carton of orange juice, it was clear that a mysterious being had eaten all the food in the entire house.

Rage almost blinded me. I turned a shaking fist on Rock, who looked almost as angry as I was. But then we realized that it could not have been any one of us. After all, we were on the walk together and the dining room certainly did not look like this when we left.

I had a vague memory of locking the door, but I couldn’t be too sure. Checking my hiding spots (including a strategically placed air vent beneath Rock’s potty), my valuables were still all there. Phew!
But maybe that made sense, I thought. Was it possible that the robber forgot to look at the second page of my signed copy of “The Hunger Games” and missed the signature?

Still, it only added to the stale air of mystery (I have no intention of eating stale items but Rock loves em’). Panting very much after carrying the ladder from the garage to the backyard, climbing up the ladder up onto the roof, and using a screwdriver to uncover the secret tile (7 tiles up, 3 to the left of the left side of the roof) to check for my harmonica (it was there like all the rest), I decided to wait a few days, observe and plan, and catch the food thief. Oh, and go to Costco. I was out of food.

Some time later… –

It didn’t take long. I wish I could say that wasn’t true.

I woke up on the second day for a glob of paint to fall onto my greatly prized Scooby-Doo blanket. “HELPP! TERRORIST ATTACK!” I screamed. Rock leapt into the room. But he was very clearly staring at the space above me.

Looking at the wall, I could see graffiti beginning to form!