proceeded to trip over the trash can lid. It clanged.

The same scraggly brown dog lifted his head into view from his cage and woofed halfheartedly at Fang.

"Sheep," Fang ordered irritably. "One, two, three, four, five..."

The dog lowered his head again.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

"So where y'heading now?" Fang asked, walking beside Angel. They were in the middle of town, strolling along the sidewalks and avoiding people.

"Home." Angel replied tartly.

"Home..." Fang repeated, confused. "Why now?"

"I told you before, Fang, they're family. I'm staying with them."

Fang sat down, forcing her to stop as he did so often, scratching at a flea near his ear. "Staying?" he snorted out a laugh. Then he leaped in front of her, going into a play-crouch, rump in the air, tail wagging, his tongue hanging out of his mouth. "No, no, no--you don't get it, do you? They're humans. They don't think--unless it's about themselves. They don't feel--unless it's hapiness that they got what they wanted. They're typical furless monsters, Angel. Why don't you start over, live footloose and collar-free out on the streets?"

"I am not living out here again!" Angel thrust her head toward him, eyebrows pinched together. "Never again. I've eaten that kibble before, Fang. It's not happening twice."

Fang cocked his head, sitting up, ceasing the panting. "Didn't you say you had five families before this nuthouse?"

"Okay, fine. It's not happening a sixth time. Happy?" Angel pushed past him and continued walking. "Keep your alleys and your trash cans, Fang. I'll take collars and bowls. I'm going home, where I belong."

Fang watched her go for a while, battling with his pride. "Chains!" he called after her. "Fences! Doghouses!"

Angel stopped and looked over her shoulder. "That's what Scamp used to think too. Tell me, is he unhappy?"

That was all she said. Then she turned the corner and dissapeared.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

In an abandoned old storage shed with an attic, wood planks missing and carpets torn, three street pups scarfed down day-old pizza they had smuggled from the dumpster behind Tony's Resteraunt while lounging on stained, ripped up old couches and cushions that looked like they had been rolled in dust for centuries.

 "No way," Afghanna shook her head, eyes closed in confident disagreement. "Squirrels outrun dogs by a long shot."

"Says you," Skip scoffed, wrinkling his nose.

Fang was on the floor, grumbling about females and how they never knew what was good for them. He was pacing back and forth, his steps taking wider and wider space up, his strides longer. He kept getting closer to a long wooden table covered in cobwebs.

On the couch, on either side of the pizza boxes, Afghanna and Skip continued their argument.

"I live at the park, Afghanna, and I know. I race squirrels all the time." Skip lifted his head, gnawing at the crust of some pepperoni slices.

"Ever catch one?"

"No."

Afghanna triumphantly took another bite of day-old cheese pizza. Tomato sauce squirted onto her pitch-black nose. "There you go, then. Squirrels are way fast."

Fang was still grumbling. "Cozy little family. Puh!"

"...But seriously, Skip, squirrels are smarter than dogs." Afghanna was saying above, on the couch.

Without looking where he was going, Fang whammed into the table, stumbling and yelping when cobwebs clung to his muzzle.

Afghanna exchanged a glance with Skip, eyelids lowered. "Exhibit A," she jerked her head towards Fang.

Fang shook the cobwebs off, spitting and gagging. He glared up at his friends. "How can you eat at a time like this?"

"Lemme think about this one," Skip screwed up his face and looked upward. He snorted and sarcastically commented to Fang, "Because it's dinnertime?"

Fang snapped at Skip with his extra-sharp teeth, completely missing; he was on the ground while Skip was curled onto the couch.

"You could use some chow-time," Afghanna observed. She nosed the pizza box until it fell off the couch, landing at Fang's paws. "You're sure to be hungry."

Fang ignored her rare show of kindness and shoved the box away with his own nose. "That prissy pomeranian dumped me--after all the work I did to get her!"

Afghanna stared at him, unmoved. "You were never 'together' in the first place."

Fang glared at her. "Dream-killer. Whatever. Look, I got another plan."

Skip groaned. "Not again. Leave me out of it. My ears are still ringing from all that barking. Besides, they never work."

"Nonsense," Fang argued. "That last one worked."

"Oh yeah, bubblebrain?" Skip snorted. "How? Did y'get the girl?"

Fang hesitated, then lowered his eyelids and gave Skip a cool look. "Not right away. You don't rush up to 'em and fall all over 'em. These things take time, Skipper,"

"Yeah," Skip scoffed. "Right. And, uh, how did that plan work when she gave you the cold shoulder? What's your tactic?" Skip lifted one ear, batting his eyes, in mock-interest in the answer.

"Ever heard of 'playing hard to get', fuzzball?" Fang snapped, growling low. He crouched, glaring up at Skip.

Skip crouched too, front paws on the edge of the couch's cushion. "Who're you calling fuzzball, cat-breath?"

"Beady-eyes!"

"Big nose!"

"Chew toy!"

"House pet!"

That teared it. Fang sprang on top of Skip, and the two rolled off the couch and rolled around on the floor, a furry mass of puppy.

Afghanna rolled her eyes. "Males. You don't see us girls turning into a bunch of overgrown savages."

Fang, who was having a bad day, lifted his head from the battle and shot back at her, "You don't see us guys gettin' greedy while chowin' down on pizza like it was our final meal."

Afghanna sprang to her paws and joined the rucus.

 Chapter 6

Scamp sat on the landing, the place you could sit at the top of the first flight of stairs in the Darling house, where you good look out the big, stained-glass window into the backyard outside. He sighed, ears drooping. How could I let it happen? Poor Angel...

"You okay up here, Whirlwind?" Tramp padded up the stairs to sit beside his son.

Scamp hung his head even lower. "I ruined everything. Angel's at the pound all because of me."

Tramp nudged Scamp with his nose. "Ah, c'mon, pal. It can't be that bad." He drew his head up, wolfishly smiling, eyelids lowered. "Why, I wouldn't be surprised if those street pups came howling back into the yard with her this very moment."

Scamp stared at him woefully. You could tell Tramp was trying hard to believe what he'd said.

"A-roooooooo! Arf-arf-rooo!"

Scamp and Tramp's heads shot up and they peered through the stained-glass window out to the backyard.

It was Angel, alone. She ran into the yard, barking and howling at the top of her lungs. "Owwwwooo!"

Soon the entire family was out yet again, cuddling Angel and nuzzling her, the dogs licking her face roughly and Scamp bowling her over with joy.

Jim Dear and Darling were still asleep in this early hour of the morning, so they didn't come out.

From the age-old break in the fence, a Golden Retriever pup watched Scamp and Angel roll around in the dust with flaming red eyes.

"Wants a snuggly little House Pet for a mate, does she?" Fang snarled to himself. "Well, ain't no way I'm puttin' on a collar for any girl!" He paused. "There're other ways to get her to see it my way. I'm irresistable, ask any female pup, street dog or house pet. Time to take credit for my part in the doll's great escape!"
 

He stepped gingerly into the yard. "Thank you, thank you, I'm here all week, folks."

The dogs looked up. Scamp flinched. Angel snorted.

Tramp trotted up to Fang. "We owe you one, kid. Angel's home, safe and sound, thanks to you."

Fang lifted his head. "No need to say it twice. It was nothing, honest."

Behind them, Lady chuckled along with her triplet Cocker Spaniel daughters.

Scamp's ears drooped. He stepped up beside his father. "Uh, yeah, thanks. It was nice of you to bring her home."

"Oh, he didn't bring me here." Angel trotted in between Fang and the two House Dogs, father and son. Fang watched her every movement.

"Huh, he didn't?" Scamp asked, slack-jawed.

"Are you kidding? He tried to get me to check out life on the wrong side of the tracks."

Fang didn't cringe; his pride beat the urge from him.

Tramp's eyes narrowed at the Golden Retriever. "She's been there, pal. That side of the tracks is no place for a good dog."

Fang raised his head and drew himself up to his full height, a head taller than Scamp. "Then call me a bad dog."

Lady looked firmly dissapointed in him from behind.

Tramp circled Fang. Fang stood still, not moving his head, only watching Tramp with his eyes when the large mutt passed in front of him.

"You're a strange street