A 101 DALMATIAN STORY "Dad? ...Dad?" Lucky tried to shout over the din of yapping, yelling, yipping, and woofing.  To the little Dalmatian puppy, the small apartment where the Dearlys lived sounded like one big contained Twilight Bark. It was a week since Lucky and his blood-related fifteen brothers and sisters were rescued from the evil fur-loving maniac, Cruella DeVil and her puppy-napping henchmen Horace and Jasper. Their mother and father, Pongo and Perdy, had traveled across the British countryside to the manor where Lucky and his siblings were being held, and with the help of a friendly sheepdog and tomcat called Tibbs, were sneaked back home to London! ...But, of course, it takes more than a mere count of fifteen puppies to make a Dalmatian furred coat, as Cruella had desired, and so along with their biological pups, Pongo and Perdy had also taken the other 84 Dalmatian puppies Cruella had bought from various petshops around the world over time home to live with them. So, counting his parents and his litter and adding them all up, that made One-Hundred and One Dalmatians living in the little apartment with the three humans. At first it had been fun having so many new adopted brothers and sisters to play with. One was almost never bored, and Lucky himself still didn't know all of his new family member's names.  But Lucky began to tire of the constant commotion. There was nowhere to sleep at nap time, and it was far too crowded in the little apartment, which was meant for 'two pairs of couples just starting out.' And all of the  noise was enough to make the fur of Lucky's horseshoe-pattern spots stand on end. But the worst of all was the fact that it was almost impossible for Lucky to watch his favorite TV program, the Thunderbolt Adventure Hour!  Today Lucky was especially sick of all the many many new puppies. He was in the process of looking for his father, but in a sea of spots, as pet Roger would say, it was hard to find anyone. "Dad?" he barked again. Lucky's call was drowned in the rest of the 101 Dalmatians din. Suddenly Lucky heard his father's voice. "Twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four...now, Speckle, hold still...twenty-fi--Ah, haha, Dipstick, not so hard on my ear! Twenty, er, where was I?"  Lucky, afraid of losing his father in the mass of pups again, hurried through the crowd. "Dad?-Oh, 'scuse me...move it, please!" he grunted, pushing through two of his new female Dalmatian sisters, who were leaning on each other back to back and laughing at something Wizzer, one of Lucky's biological  brothers, had done. Finally Lucky barreled through to Pongo's side. "Dad?"  "...Three, four, five--Oh hello, son--let me see, ah yes! Six, seven, eight..." was the reply Pongo made as he counted his new children for the umpteenth time. The father was obsessed with making sure all were accounted for in the Dearly family. "Dad, can we go out for a walk today? To the park?" Lucky's tail wagged at the thought of being out of this crowded little room. "...Nine, ten--I don't think so, not today son, maybe some other time--eleven twelve..." "But Dad--oof!" Dipstick dropped from his father's ear and landed smack in the middle of the horseshoe shape Lucky's spots made on his back. Getting up as Dipstick, one of the original fifteen children of the Pongoes, with the end of his tail fur looking like it had been dipped in ink, scrambled off Lucky without apology and took off chasing a female pup carrying one of the Dearly's shoes in her mouth. "Can we play horse then, Dad?" asked Lucky.  Pongo opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by Cadpig shouting, "Yes, yes, horse!" and she jumped on Pongo's back. Cadpig was the other runt of Perdy and Pongo's original litter, so she knew the game well.  Soon Patch, Jewel and three other pups Lucky hadn't met out of his new family yet had crowded onto the adult dog's back. Pongo was almost crushed to the floor under their weight.  "Oh, yes of course, son, but-but, oh haha," Pongo spoke around the foot of another puppy who was using his mouth to climb up, "ah, wait your turn, Lucky!" Wait his TURN?! There were 84 puppies living in this apartment, all of them now waiting for a turn to play Horse with LUCKY'S dad! By the time it was his turn, it would be bedtime, and he'd asked first! Irritated, Lucky pouted. "Sure, dad." he said quietly, his clipped young British accent turning sad. As he entered the kitchen, Lucky saw Nanny placing pots, pans, dog bowls, human bowls, plates and anything else that could contain the Kanine Krunchies Dogfood she was pouring into them on the floor. With so many Dalmatians, there had to be plenty of the pups' favorite food. Lucky's face lit up. His father might not have time for him, but now that most of the puppies were wailing for a turn to play Horse with dad, his mother wasn't being harassed! She was sitting next to a particularly large red bowl with an even more particularly large puppy scarfing the contents inside. "Mother, mother!" he yapped excitedly.  Perdita turned to look at him distractedly. "Just a moment dear." she turned with a scolding look at Rolly, the "pork" (or the biggest) of her non-adopted, biological puppies, one of the original fifteen. "Rolly," she said patiently. "Nanny hasn't called for everyone to have dinner. It isn't polite to eat before the others get here." Rolly looked up. Lucky took one look at his brother and collapsed in a fit of laughter.  "You look like a chipmunk!"  It was true. Rolly's cheeks were so full of Kanine Krunchies that Lucky almost gagged when the larger pup so easily swallowed.  After shooting a quick glare at Lucky (still lolling on the floor giggling), Rolly looked up at his mother. "But I'm hungry, Mother." Lucky sat up. That was his tubby brother's answer to everything. But Lucky was determined to earn his mother's attention. "Mother?" "Yes, little one, what is it?" Lucky wagged his tail, eager. "Well, you see, Dad was busy," he said grumpily, "and I was wondering if you and I could play--" "Not now, Lucky darling." she interrupted gently. "Rolly, I'm sure you could at least wait for Nanny to call--" "Dinner Tiiiime!" laughed Nanny's shrill, jingling voice. Lucky's ears jumped. He lunged at a bowl as the thundering of paws and excited yelps came nearer. He began eating immediately. Soon a Jewel and another one of Lucky's litter, Penny, were trying to crowd him out of the food. Nanny was fussing here and there,  making sure there was enough for everyone and that puppies like Rolly didnt eat more than their share.  Lucky filled his stomach rapidly and lifted his head out of the bowl. His two sisters quickly took advantage of the space he gave up and gobbled down their Kanine Krunchies. The little puppy shifted his gaze here and there until he found his mother. She was picking one pup up by his collar and carrying her to another less crowded bowl. "Mother!" "There you are, Two-Tone, dear, this bowl is better for you. What is it now, Lucky?" she actually sounded impatient. "Mother, can't we go and--" Perdita looked up from where she was nudging Cadpig to a different bowl. "Lucky, darling, I simply don't have time!" And she proceeded to another side of the kitchen where she could better help Nanny. Lucky gave up and romped out of the kitchen, sniffing.                                                         **** The dusty old balcony was a perfect for a moping Dalmatian. None of the other new puppies even knew there WAS a window balcony outside Roger's study in the attic.  So, as said before, the little spot was ideal for the sulking Lucky, who, in his mood, did not want to have anything to do with his new family.  How could none of the other pups be feeling like this? Was little Lucky the only one his parents were...well, IGNORING? Lucky knew his parents had done the right thing in helping the other puppies, and escaping with them from scary old Cruella, but was it really necessary to bring them all home? To LUCKY'S home? To his pets, Nanny, Roger and Anita? To his TV and Thunderbolt show? To HIS mom and dad?! The little pup huffed, his breath fogging in the late December air. 101 Dalmatians.  One hundred and one problems that were not going away any time soon. Even if Roger and Anita had plans for a 'Dalmatian Plantation' at a farm, how much better could things get? Mom and Dad would still be too busy to have any time for-- "...Lucky?" came a shy voice from behind the window.  Lucky sighed. That wasn't the voice of his mother or father. It was a puppy voice, and not one he recognized.  One of the new ones. Just what he needed. Lucky turned around and rolled his eyes. "What is it?" So much for the balcony no newbie knew about. A little black nose nudged the window-door to the balcony open a little more. "It's me--Splatter." his voice was young and heavily British in accent. When this puppy said his name, it sounded like 'Splattah'. This was that mucky puppy who always got into Roger's ink jar and Anita's garden. And the rubbish bin. And generally everything messy. Lucky had never met him face-to-face, but it was hard to ignore a puppy who got into the most gunk out of all ninety-nine puppies in the Dearly's home in the space of just a week. Had to be some kind of a record. Lucky sat up and hung his head in defeat. It was hopeless, he thought dramatically. He was doomed to have no privacy for the rest of his life! Splatter pushed his way out of the study and onto the balcony, where he sidled up to Lucky carefully and, after staring at the gloomy little Dalmatian for a bit, sat down beside him. "Are...are you alright?" asked Splatter. He still sounded shy. Lucky, like most children, didn't think about the things grown-ups would, such as "If I've never met this pup, how does he know my name?" or "Why is he so concerned about an

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