Later...)

 On the streets of what all the Strays liked to call "Snob Hill", a lovely little house with a little yard and a little white fence stood, repainted white from its previous brown-wood, and if you stood at its gate, you could hear a high-pitched bark.

"Rosemary, you get back in that tub this instant, young lady!" An orange-and-cream female dog, a mutt, but extremely pretty, trotted out of the kitchen. She had on a white collar, and her eyes were the color of wheat.

A small puppy, a girl, a picture of her mother but undoubtedly prettier, drop-dead gorgeous, scampered down the hall. "I don't wanna take a bath, Mother!"

"You've caused my owners enough trouble today, Rosemary, and I'll see to it you get a good tongue-lashing for this. Back into the tub!" The Mother dog, Sasha, growled.

"Mother, I hate it when you call me Rosemary." The pup pleaded, brilliant-blue eyes matching her light-blue collar. She sat down on the rug and looked up at her mother. "Just Rose, okay? Please?"

"Where do you get off, young lady, telling me what to call you? You just get right back into the bathtub and stay there until you've been properly washed!" Sasha snapped.

"Moth-er!" Rose whined. "I'm spotless! I don't need another stupid bath! Can I please go outside? Please?"

Her mother gave in with a sigh. "Fine. But do not, I repeat, do not get yourself dirty. If I find so much as a leaf in your fur--"

"Yes, Mother, I know." Rose sighed. "Back into the tub."

"Precisley." Sasha nudged her daughter from behind with her nose. "Now run along and play, and try to stay out of mischief."

"Yes ma'am!" Rose called as she stuck her head out the doggie door.

She immediately began prancing through the grass of the yard, paws lightly denting the greenery.

"Yes ma'am!" mimicked a voice from behind her, by the fence. The voice was too high-pitched, but only teasingly.

Rose turned around. There, in her yard, by her gate, was a sight that nearly sent her trembling at the paws.

A strong-looking Golden Retriever male puppy sat there, no collar, fur handsomely ungroomed, eyelids lowered, the sun striking his fur so that he looked almost lemon-colored. His red eyes blazed like fire, his crooked grin making her heart melt.

"Um..." Rose swallowed, blushing. He was so cool, so collected! "Um, hi," she said again.

"How's pickin's?" The Golden Retriever said, not looking at her. He trotted around the yard like he owned the place, strolling up to her water bowl on the porch. He sniffed it, said, "Ugh!" and swaggered over to a puddle, grinning at it, and lapped some of the muddy water up.

Rose guessed that his question meant, How are you?, so she said politely, "I'm fine, thank you very much, and you?" She blinked slowly. Her head was misty, heart pounding. Something about this dog made her fur tingle.

The Golden Retriever finally looked up, raising his head, and stared at her. "Huh?"

"Well, I was just--"

"Yeah, yeah," the Retriever nodded, eyes half-closed, and trotted around the yard again, sniffing. He snorted. "You always talk like that, princess?"

Rose felt taken aback. "Uh, well, no, but..." she straightened. "Just being polite. I'm Rose. May I ask your name?"

He gave one snort-laugh. "Heh." He cocked his head at her, still looking handsome with the sun on his fur, and said dramatically, "Call me Fang, princess. Nice spread y'got here."

"Uhmm, thank you." Rose replied, blinking into the distance, baffled by his strange speech. "I don't want to be rude--"

"Oh no, we can't have that," Fang sneered.

Rose blushed even harder. "--But what is it you're doing here?"

"Here?" he asked, as if she were crazy.

"Yes. Here. In...my yard?" Rose prompted. She glanced toward the window to see if anyone was watching.

"Just wanted to see what th'noise was about, no biggie," Fang shrugged, not looking at her. He seemed to be avoiding attention to her, hardly realizing he was doing it.

"What noise?" Rose asked.

"Barkin'. Arguin'. That you an' yer ol' lady in there, makin' all the racket?" Fang asked, sniffing at the bottom of the fence. He caught a trace of perfume and sneezed.

"My Mother? Yeah." Rose shrugged, trying hard not to be embarrassed.

"What was she howlin' about?" Fang asked, but it sounded as if he really didn't care one way or the other.

"I didn't want to take a bath." Rose answered modestly.

Fang's head came up and he drilled her with his eyes. She practically melted. "You didn't wanna take a bath?"

"No way!" Rose shook her head hard. "I hate baths."

"You?" Fang asked, snorting disbelievingly. "You're a House Pet, princess, yer s'posed t'love baths!"

Rose shrugged. "Well, I don't."

Fang looked at her a long time more. "You gut guts, princess. I ain't heard of any other House Dog that didn't wanna be perfumed and puffed all their lives."

"Really?" Rose asked.

"You got what it takes t'be a Street Dog."

"A Street Dog?" Rose squealed, bouncing on her paws. This was too exciting! Here was the dog of her dreams, cool and sly, telling her she had what it took to be one of his kind!

"Is there an echo out here?" Fang muttered. He tuned his attention back in to Rose. "Listen, powderpuff, if you think you got the moves, y'can break out and try runnin' leash-free with the big dogs. Look me up."

Fang winked and trotted over to the short white fence. He crouched, then backflipped over it, twisting all the way around in midair, landing on his paws on the other side, strutting down the sidewalk like the king of the streets.

Rose hurried after him, poking her head through an opening in the gate of the fence. "Wait! Where are you going?"

"T'meet up with the gang." Fang called over his shoulder as he bobbed to an unheard beat down the sidewalk, barely glancing backward at her. "Oh, an' if y'wanna hang with my crowd," he paused, arching a brow as he looked over his shoulder at her. "Lose the collar."

Rose glanced down at the blue collar around her neck. That voice, those eyes, the way he acted, like he had his whole life in the bag and accounted for! Yes, she wanted to be free of this boring life and run free with Fang, but what about her mother? What would she say?

Now, you can't change the mind of a dog in love. Rose was dead-set on leaving home and following Fang around, desperate for his attention. And had her mother ever really cared? No. She cared about herself, and how Rose looked (probably because if Rose was ever anything but perfect-looking, it would make her mother look bad). What was there to think about?

Rose pushed with her hind paws on the back of her collar, and it slipped off her neck. That's better.

She pulled the front half of her body through an opening in the little white fence. "Goodbye leash," she grunted. She pulled the rest of her body out of the yard, through the fence, and into the open streets. "Hello freedom!"

Chapter 4

(Two Months Later...)

"If I ever see any tomato sauce again, it'll be too soon," Afghanna groaned.

Fang and his gang, including the newly-added Rose, were splayed out in the alley behind Tony's Italian Resteraunt, stomachs full, and moaning up a storm as the moon shone above them.

"If I ever smell any spaghetti, I'm gonna curl up and die," Skip joked back, eyebrows lowered in that some old frown he always wore.

Fang burped loudly behind him.

Skip squeezed his eyes shut, taking one whiff and wrinkling his nose. "Augh, Fa-ang!"

Fang came right up to the Lab, pushed his nose against Skip's, closed one eye and opened the other as wide as he could. He stared, eyeball increasing, right into Skip's face. "Hmmm," he said. "Still breathing..."

"He isn't dying anytime soon, Fang," Afghanna grinned bluntly.

"Aaww!" Fang moaned, throwing his head back and closing both eyes, eyebrows falling in the middle and the tips pointing upward. "I was so hopin'!"

Rose giggled.

"Come on, guys, let's--" Skip began.

Afghanna gasped suddenly.

"What's up?" Rose asked, trotting to Affy's side and following her gaze to the entrance to the alley.

"Don't you hear that?" Afghanna exclaimed. "Some dog's in trouble!"

Fang grew serious. He and Skip joined the two girls, flanking them.

"Where's it at?" Skip asked.

"Around the corner, I think," Afghanna murmured.

Fang sniffed the air. His heart nearly stopped. He dug his claws into the stone-path. His eyebrows lowered. He bared his teeth.

The next thing the gang knew, Fang was gone, charging around the corner, paws flying, ears flapping, tail tucked.

"We gotta help him!" Afghanna nudged her friends. They all took off after their leader, confused.

They fell in behind Fang as he raced toward the sounds of whimpering and barking and growling. Finally, the gang turned a corner into another alley, one blocked with a fence at