My sharp eyes see no strayed dog running anthropomorphically, I am clairaudience yet never hear any rapid breathing, but I can smell it. My nostrils are big!
Trek further up, I begin to smell my sweat-soaked body, and the doggy smell grows even stronger. When my nose stops at a tree, and when I sniff upwards, I see it. It is Scooby-Doo.
It keeps itself disappeared in the tree except the square head. Dooby, this is intended! It would want to be ever ready for Scooby Snacks, a favorite food for the past 42 years.
This Great Dane is still the same familiar one after all.
Scooby-Doo, here you are. You have outrun the supernatural creature by lifting a 70-pound body up a 15 foot tree.