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They looked at her .

Bruce nodded.
"Eh," T.P said, eying Scamp suspiciously. "Who's the pup?"

T.P jumped, a little startled at Angel's entrance. He turned to face her.
"This is Scamp," Bruce told T.P.
"Yep," T.P snorted and turned back around. "And I'm T.P THE best street-pup in all of New England!"
Bruce rolled his eyes.

Bruce's face instantly dropped to a frown and he growled a little when Scamp mentioned the Junkyard Dogs.

"Eh, no problem," T.P said, ignoring his friend's growling.

The tan pup's face lit up. "Yeah! C'mon Scamp and, uh..." He looked at Angel. "Uh, what's your name?"

Bruce shook the thoughts of the Junkyard Dogs from his mind, stood up and began to trot down the street.

"Got'cha," was T.P's response before heading down the street, too.
"Well," he started when Scamp asked him a question. "They're all from different walks of life and different cities, and...well...their personalities are kinda vary from pup to pup.

They finally reached the gang's alley and T.P announced, "We're here!"
In the alley and by the train tracks, fourteen other puppies were lounging around, eating, or playing with each other. T.P smiled at Scamp and Angel. "That's my gang."

"Uh, I think maybe one or two of 'em are your age, "T.P explained and walked into the alley. "But most of us are a little," he looked a t Bruce, who was arguing with a yellow and white puppy. "Are way older. C'mon, guys."

The brown and white long-haired puppy looked up from her nap. "Uh, Hallo," she said in German.

"Steal from people and other strays," T.P said. "Uh, mess with the dogs on Snob Hill, argue with each other. That kinda stuff."

"No, that was my bone and you know it!" the yellow puppy yelled at Bruce.
"What does it matter, Kandas? They're all the same size!" Bruce said back.
"Nu-huh! That one's bigger!" Kandas said, pointing to the bone Bruce had by his feet.