concerned about an adopted brother he barely knows?". He felt sad, and wanted any attention he could get at the moment, and was too upset to care about how he sounded right now. "It's only...well..." In the moment of silence, Splatter perked up and blurted while scratching an ear with a back leg, "I saw you run out of the kitchen. You looked a little upset, and I wondered..." now it was his turn to trail off. Lucky glanced over at this adopted family member. Splatter was a shade darker white than Lucky was, probably because his fur got stained with all of the messy things this pup must roll in.  Both of his ears had a little dip in the sides, and he had a tuft of fur scraggly sticking up on his head. He wore a red collar like Lucky's dad's, a new one that Nanny had bought the day before. (Imagine, buying collars for so very many Dalmatians!)   But the most unique thing about Splatter was that nearly all of his spots were shaped like someone had squirted him with an ink pen. There was one particularly large splash-shaped spot on his right ear. Lucky sighed for the tenth time. "Yes. It's just that, well, my mother and father never have time to do anything with me at all now that--well--" he stopped short, not wanting to hurt Splatter's feelings. But the other pup seemed to already know. "...Now that we're all here." he finished with a sympathetic tilt to his accented voice. "Yeah." Lucky glanced at Splatter. "Er, sorry." He wasn't really. "Oh, that's all right." He picked up one paw, set it down again, and shrugged. "Actually, I think you really ARE 'lucky'." "What for?" asked Lucky.  Splatter lay down on his stomach and watched the london city below. "To have parents like Mr. Pongo and Mrs. Perdita." Lucky lay down too and watched Splatter's expression as the pup went on. "When mean old Horace and Jasper came and bought us from our Pet Shop, I didn't get to see my mum and dad anymore." Lucky felt a little guilty now. "Well...my mother and father aren't all that gr--" Splatter jumped to his paws, surprising Lucky. "Are you joking? They came all the way across London to save you! Even through the snow and on Christmas!" Lucky's ears stood up a little. Splatter spoke of his new adopted parents like Lucky's brother, Patch, talked about Thunderbolt. The dirty little Dalmatian was wagging his tail now. "And they fought those two Baddun brothers, came right through the window! I couldn't believe it!" Lucky smiled when he remembered how great and big his father's teeth had been when he growled at Jasper that night. He felt foolish for doubting their affections for him. But now Spatter sighed for a moment. "They were really nice to bring all of us here where it's safe with them." "Yeah." Lucky agreed again. He didn't think it was so unreasonable for his parents to take in so many kidnapped puppies. He was suddenly proud of them for it. There was a a bit of silence as Spatter lay down again and they watched the cars chug by on the cobblestone streets beneath them. Lucky was dragged out of his thoughts of his parents when Spatter suddenly spoke up again. But instead of sounding excited and sympathetic, his adopted sibling sounded uncertain now...and sad. Like he was talking to himself. "Sometimes...sometimes I wonder if MY mum misses me." It seemed an odd, silly statement to Lucky. He knew his mother had been distraught when he was kidnapped. How could Spatter's mother not be the same? "Of course she must." he said, confused. "Well..." Spatter sounded unconvinced. He lifted his head off of where it had been resting on his dirty paws and looked at Lucky. "I thought so too, at first. But...but when we left the Pet Store with Horace and Jasper, me and my brothers and sisters, and they threw us in the back of the truck, my mum didn't even notice." Lucky felt awkward. He looked away from Spatter's hopeful stare, trying to think of a way to comfort him, to reassure him. "But puppies are bought from the Pet Store all the time, aren't they? My mother says she was. Maybe you're mother didn't think anything of it." Spatter looked down at his paws again. "There's six of us in my litter. Mum lived at the Pet Shop we were born in." Confused at the direction Splatter was going with this, Lucky cocked his head and decided to just listen instead of ask questions. Splatter went on, as expected, still talking in a mumble as if to himself. "She was always telling us to be quiet and how to get a pet. A human, you know..." Splatter looked slightly frustrated and gave up on trying to change the topic of conversation. "Lucky, maybe she's had so many puppies before my litter that she doesn't even...well..." he faltered, looking even more troubled than before.  Splatter had cheered Lucky up before. Now little Luck' wanted to return the favor. But he didn't quite know how. "I'm sure she loved you--just, just as much as you love her." He stammered, head cocking so far he looked like a puppy pretending to be an owl. His tail thumped out a puzzled, unsteady rhythm.  "Why didn't she come to rescue us then, like your parents did?" "Like I said, perhaps she just didn't realize you had been stolen." stammered Lucky. "But wouldn't she have come to visit by now? Just to check on us, or--or something?" asked Splatter quietly. Lucky was fresh out of consolations. "I-I...I don't know." Splatter sighed. There was another long awkward pause, in which Lucky felt sorry for Splatter and wished he could comfort him and Splatter felt lonely and confusedly sad. Finally, seeming to cheer up, Splatter sat up and thumped his little spotted tail on the balcony twice, mustered up a smile and said, "Well, I hope you feel better. Maybe when we move to the farm you'll have better luck with your parents." And with that, little Splatter turned and hopped back into the house throughout the window door, but not before Lucky saw his tail droop. The smallest son of Pongo and Perdita stared after him. Poor Splatter. Suddenly Lucky's one hundred and one problems didn't seem like problems at all anymore. Here he had been moping over silly little stuff and this mucky pup who knew nothing about Lucky had come and taken time just to make him feel better.  And he was right, of course. Pongo and Perdy had set out after them in horrid conditions and hadn't stopped or given up, or even complained a little when they rescued the pups. They had fought off the Baddun brother like Thunderbolt tore up bad guys, and fooled crazy old Cruella. They were nice enough to bring in 98 puppies no matter the troubles... And instantly Lucky Dearly knew what to say to his new friend. *** The attic was full of songwriters papers, music sheets, ink, instruments and the like. What dominated the whole little room was the piano pet Roger played on nearly all day, thinking up new tunes and ditties to earn money for the growing Dearly family. It smelled of dust, laziness, ink, polish and imagination. Splatter walked across this paper-strewn mess of a floor with head and tail hanging low. Lucky's plight had gone right out of his mind.  Now, usually, a young child or in this case, puppy, has nothing much in his or her head but playing and laughing and television. If they do happen to think of something other than that, it only lasts for a little while before some other exciting thing whisks it away. This was normally the case for Splatter, of course, and especially when it came to his mother. In fact, he tried not to think about her if at all possible. If he did, he often missed her. But up here in this dusty former bachelor's attic, it was quiet. Since the evening had worn on to nighttime, most of the puppies were being bathed (One of Splatter's loathed pastimes.) and told a very noisy bedtime story in the house below. Soon they would stampede up here, all of them, for bed. But for now, all was silent. No distractions to take Splatter's mind off of his mother. She HAD always told Splatter and his siblings to be quiet, not to play so often, to sit up straight and let your tongue hang out cutely, ESPECIALLY when a human walked by.   She never washed them like Perdita, Lucky's mother, sometimes did once or twice. She didn't tell them a bedtime story. Even in the only eight weeks (a long time for a puppy) Splatter and the six others had spent with her, he could never recall her playing with them even once. Splatter sighed. He hopped up onto the piano seat, and from there onto the top of the instrument. The ticking of the clock was the only sound.  When he had left with his brothers and sisters, she never even looked the least bit concerned that two strange men were buying all of her puppies at once. Splatter could remember that Horace and Jasper had to make more than one trip from the truck to the shop to get all six of Splatter's litter.  He  recalled  waving one paw at her over smelly Horace's shoulder as he was carried out and yipping, "I love you, mummy!" along with two of his sisters. And he remembered the first spark of doubt he had felt when she didn't wave back or reply, simply continued washing herself from the little pen they had spent the first 8 weeks of their lives in. Splatter didn't like to remember this. But he did remember, all the same. "I think two are missing, Perdy darling." Pongo's voice came anxiously from downstairs. "I'd better have a look for them. Splatter didn't move. He looked at himself in the reflection of ink inside an ink pot.  Did mum even remember his name...? "Splatter!" Lucky bounded into the room. "Huh? Oh, hullo Lucky."  Splatter looked down at the horseshoe-patterned spots on Lucky's back as the other dalmatian scrambled to get up onto the piano. "Splatter," repeated Lucky, breathless with the jump up onto the piano and excitement at the chance to cheer up his adopted sibling. He continued, blurting, "You were right! My

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