Chief Moonbeam happily rattled the can he had set out for donations. It gave a solid thunk as you would expect from a tin completely filled with bills and change. His wife trotted up to him and gave him a firm kiss on the cheek. "Just following the instructions on your apron," she said coquettishly, "This barbeque was a fabulous idea, I'm sure the piggies will be pleased they had such a thoughtful friend looking after their places." The wolf blushed even after so many years of marriage.
You could hardly recognise the The Blue Cheese Pub. The place had been scrubbed up, the walls decorated with colourful streamers, the tables covered with crepe paper tablecloths, and wolves laughing and chatting with paper cups of beer or juice in their paws filled the hall. A large banner over the front door declared "Piggies Home Appeal". Through the hall the delicious aroma of roasting pack rat covered in Chief Moonbeam's secret cajun style barbecue sauce had everyone's mouths watering. The wolf's wife, Summerwind, had boiled up some corn on the cob and for dessert had made a huge batch of gingerbread men, a perennial wolf favourite.
"So dear, what did happen to the piggies' homes?" asked Summerwind.
"Evidently, Nickie who I am roasting just now with a bit of extra yummy onion and cayenne pepper had gotten the scurrilous idea of framing our family for crimes he and his friends committed by using a sand blaster to huff and puff. This is of course a speciest stereotype and he didn't realise what good friends we are with the piggies. A big tip off was that he was only after shiny things, a pack rat weakness. He then stashed the takings in his old family estate. I was able to follow him from The Blue Cheese Pub to confirm the connection and at that time learned that he and his cronies were going to be back here this evening." Chief Moonbeam carefully rotated Nickie so that he would be seared to perfection.
"You are so clever, Beamish," said the wolf's wife and gave him another kiss.