away again and walked towards the house and up the stairs.  Finding the door hanging limp on its hinges, he was able to pass right through the open gap and into the main hall. 

It was cold and dark inside, and very quiet.  Some snow had managed to drift into the hallway.  Here and there, various pictures hung off-center, or had fallen to the floor, their glass panes shattered, with bits of glass scattered about the floor.  Some of the furniture had fallen and broken, and the cloth cushions on the seats had tears in them, or were frayed. 

Steele walked through the hallway and back into the kitchen where, to his surprise, he noticed a large rat lounging lazily on a large pile of rags.  Gathered up in great mounds around the kitchen floor were all manner of items...old nails and various other unidentifiable metal bits and pieces, many bent and rusting; tattered cloth and bits of clothing, and piles of old chicken, beef and pork bones of various sizes, all gnawed clear of the last bits of meat.  All of this intermingled in a very untidy and unpleasant pile of filth.

It was upon hearing the voice of another, from behind some of the piles of junk and filth that he realized that three more rats approached their larger fellow.  " 'Ello, Joe!  'Ere's a chance, if we haven't all three met here at the same time without meaning it!"  This rat cackled as she pushed a large empty metal drinking dish across the floor (or the part of it which was actually clear of refuse).  The second rat dragged a large leather strap behind him, with a big brass buckle and studs upon it.  And the third managed to drag his own bundle, three cloth toys, latched together with bits of old string, in order that he might transport them all at once.

"You couldn't have met in a better place" Joe, the large rat, replied.  "Come into my parlor then!  You three ain't no strangers, and we're all quite suitable to our calling, 'ey?  We're all well-matched!"  As he said this, the first rat shoved the drinking dish up to Joe's feet and, with a big sigh, wiped her brow and plopped down on some nearby rags.  The second dragged up his load, the buckled strap, and sat down next to the first, and the third did likewise, gesturing with his paw to the first rat: "Go on then, ladies first." 

The first rat nodded in appreciation, saying "Oh no, that's quite alright."  But the second rat agreed with his comrade.  "No no, we insist.  You first."

The first rat smiled, her two crooked and yellowed front teeth sticking out prodigiously from under her upper lip.  "That's very kind of you I'm sure.  Much obliged."  She leaned over the bowl, wiped around inside of it with her paw, and gave a good puff to blow out a layer of dust inside, which rose right into her face, causing her to cough profusely.  She winced, and waved her paw in front of her nose a few times.  Clearing her throat, she continued, asking the second rat "What odds then?  What odds, Leroy?  Everyone has a right to take care of themselves.  He always did!"

"Quite true", the second rat replied.  "None more so.  So what are you waiting for?  Don't be shy, woman; after all, who's the wiser?  We ain't gonna pilfer from each other I suppose!"

"No indeed!" replied the first rat with another cackling laugh.  "If he wanted to keep this stuff after he was dead, the wicked old thing, why wasn't he nicer when he was alive?  If he had been, he'd have had someone to look after him when he was struck with death, instead of laying there gasping out his last, all by himself."

The third rat nodded in agreement.  "Truer words were never spoken.  There was a judgement on him."

"I wish it were a heavier one", the first rat replied.  "And it should have been, the fink.  What with how he used to chase us all away every time we came to have a looking for a few measly scraps.  I'd have laid my paws on more of his if I could have."  She reached out and tapped the bowl, which resounded with a dull metallic thud.  "Well go on, Joe, tell me its worth.  Go on, speak plain.  I'm not afraid to be the first.  We knew pretty well we was helping ourselves before we met here.  After all, it's no sin, is it?  Take a look, Joe!"

The third rat then stepped up and tugged his bundle forward.  "No no--actually I'll go first, just to show we got trust in one another."  He laid the bundle of cloth dog toys at Joe's feet and stepped back.  The first rat looked back at him with a wry smile and, nodding, said "It's very polite of you I do grant, I'm sure."

Joe examined closely the old toys, going over the stitching and the material bit-by-bit, mumbling to himself as he did.  The third rat described each in turn: "One cloth cat, one cloth bone, one denim fish."

Joe grimaced and laid the bundle aside.  "Hmmm.  One stick, and I wouldn't give you a shred more, not if my tail was caught in a trap."  The third rat frowned and shook his head as Joe pulled out a strip of old, leathery jerky from a muslin drawstring bag and handed it over.  The third rat took it curtly, and stepped back again behind the other two.

"Now mine, Joe", the first rat replied.  Joe pushed himself up off the bundle upon which he was laying, and scrutinized the drinking bowl closely.  After a moment or two of mumbling, he noted "Yeees, might make a good tub for my bath.  And I'm certainly eager to have one!" he observed, and laughed while pulling two full strips of jerky from the muslin bag, which he summarily handed over to the first rat.  She smiled and nodded, crossing her arms before her and settling back in smug satisfaction.  As she began gnawing on one of the strips, the second rat pulled up the leather strap.

"Here you go, Joe...have a look at mine!"  He laid the large strap before the big rat, across the bowl.  It was thick brown leather, easily two inches in width, with large brass studs upon it and a large brass buckle (each somewhat dulled, having lost their luster over time).  

Joe took it in his paws and marveled at it.  It was heavy, and it took some effort for him to examine it in detail.  Gasping suddenly, he asked "Is this what I think it is?"

The second rat nodded, grinning.  "You had better believe it!"

Joe dropped the heavy strap, which upset the bowl and send it tumbling across the floor away from them with several dull clangs, until it came to rest by a pile of old clothes.  "You...you mean you took it right off him, what with him laying there dead and all?"

The second rat chuckled and shrugged.  "And?  What of it?  He certainly had no further need of it.  It's the best one he had, and a fine one too!  Besides, they'd have wasted it if weren't for me!"

Joe was confused.  "What do you mean, wasted it?" 

"Well burying him with it of course", the second rat retorted.  "Besides, a normal collar is just as becoming for a burial, and was certainly good enough for him anyway.  He couldn't have looked any uglier than he did in this one anyhow."

"It's poetic justice", remarked the third rat.  "He frightened everyone away from him when he was alive, only to profit us now that he's dead!"  The others laughed blithely in response as Joe reached into his bag to pull out a pawful of jerky strips, handing them over to the second rat.

Steele watched the four rats in disgust, detesting their presence in the old house, and the awful mess they had made of the kitchen.  He wondered if the whole house had been laid waste in such a manner.  Turning back towards the grim spirit, he shuddered, observing "Spirit, I get it.  The miserable case of this dog, whoever he was, could be like my own.  I understand...my life is headed in this direction!  Can I do anything about it?"  

The dark spirit growled at him and prowled forward.  Steele shrunk back in fear, as the scene faded, and then a new scene opened before them.  As before, it was dark and quiet, but for a blustery wind, gusting occasionally, which produced a low, whining howl.  Steele saw that he was out in the back yard of the old house and there, a short distance from the back porch, was a row of wooden grave markers, some fallen and others weathered to varying degrees.  He recognized Charger's old marker, since fallen and surrounded by clumps of dead weeds.  He then caught the muffled sounds of some conversation on the extreme end of the row.  There he saw his young nephew, now looking a bit older.  He was sitting before a relatively fresh marker.  And before him, laying down and looking tired and somewhat bedraggled, was Star, his old team mate.  Star!  The first of his team mates to appear in these dark futuristic visions!  He wandered over to try and hear what was being said.

Steele listened as Star was apparently relating a story to Tommy.  Star sounded tired, grim...and aged.  His face was sullen, and his body slightly emaciated.  Clearly he hadn't been getting on very well.  And it disturbed Steele to see his former team mate, who was always so bright and chipper, if perhaps rather silly, now so morose, and so