LIST OF SHORT STORIES

1. A Tale of Two Retrievers--by Doverstar

2. Fang's Teenmare--by Doverstar

3. Romancing Ariella--by Doverstar

MORE SOON! THIS IS ONLY A PREVIEW! SCROLL DOWN FOR THE STORIES!

Story 1:

A Tale Of Two Retrievers

Short Story by Doverstar

“I don’t know about you,” Afghanna growled, “But I’d be happier if you didn’t push us face-first into the lake next time, okay pal?”

Fang trotted alongside her. They were on their way out of the Park, their favorite place on the Streets, to get some breakfast at Tony’s Italian Restaurant. “Hey, y’were askin’ fer it.”

“All we said was that we wanted to eat somewhere besides Tony’s for a change,” Skip growled. He shook his short, light-yellow ears, which were dripping wet like the rest of him.

“An’ I gave you my opinion, shorty,” Fang curled his lip at Skip. “Deal with it.”

“Who said you were in charge anyway?” Afghanna arched a brow at him as they walked, fur soaked.

“Uhh, me.” Fang snapped to her. “The one who brought us all t’gether in th’first place, Affy.”

Afghanna stuck her nose in his face, halting everyone’s light-stepped walk. “Do not call me Affy. How many times do I have to say it?”

“And don’t call me shorty.” Skip flapped his tail up and down, back and forth, drying it and splattering water everywhere.

Rose twisted her muzzle and pulled the fake rose from behind one orange, frame-her-head ear, dropping it on the sidewalk and nudging it with her nose. It was floppy; dripping wet from Fang’s little push into the lake.

“I-I don’t think anyone chose you to be leader, Fang,” she said nervously. She hardly ever got mad at her hero, but the Golden Retriever had been acting so unbearably obnoxious lately, it was hard not to disagree with him more than once.

“Yeah?” Fang snorted, not looking back at her. “Shows how much you know.”

“Hey, lay off, Fang.” Afghanna stood in front of him and glared. “Y’know, you’ve been acting like a jerk a lot nowadays.”

“More than usual…” Skip muttered.

Fang jerked his head to growl in Skipper’s direction. “Shut up, smallfry, who asked you?”

“If the collar fits…” Skip began hotly, going nose-to-nose with the Golden Retriever.

“A’ight, look, if y’feel that way, y’buncha boneheads,” Fang snarled, “Why don’tcha jus’ go on without me?”

Fang lowered his eyelids and smirked at each of them in turn, ignoring the anger and hurt in their eyes. Obnoxious? Him? No way. They’d see soon enough. He was their leader, after all, and he wasn’t about to be ganged up on by his…well…his gang. He knew they wouldn’t actually go to Tony’s without him. They’d fall apart halfway there!

“I think that’s a good idea,” Afghanna muttered furiously.

Fang jerked his head back, corners of his mouth open, eyes wide, ears swinging backward with his head. “Huh?”

“You heard her.” Skip snarled over his shoulder as he and Afghanna turned to walk away.

Rose stood, staring at Fang and back to the other two. “Um…yeah…” she murmured softly. Finally she turned and scampered after Skip and Affy—but not before repositioning her fake rose behind her ear.

I don’ b’lieve it. They’re sick o’ me! Fang thought to himself, watching them go until they were out of sight. His pride wouldn’t allow him to ask them to reconsider. He eventually turned and walked the opposite way.

They’ll come crawlin’ back soon enough. They ain’t getting’ rid o’ me. We’ve ‘ad lotsa fights. This one ain’t changin’ anythin’. So what if I’ve been a little… He gritted his teeth as he walked, trying to think of the right word. A little hyper lately. None o’ them ever had an excuse for actin’ out!

Fang found himself strolling along a little street—much like Snob Hill, but the houses were smaller, and the trash cans didn’t have lids.

“Get the ball, Sammy! Come on, buddy, get the ball! That’s right! Good boy!”

Fang’s ears pricked up. A young child’s voice. The sound of paws hitting the grass. Laughter. He trotted to a very-short cement wall, standing on his hind legs and placing his front paws on the top of the wall, peeking over the side into a mowed yard.

He jerked his head back in surprise.

There was a Golden Retriever pup, about Fang’s age—who looked remarkably similar but with duller-gold fur, shorter ears that seemed to frame his face, and his hair-fur on the top of his head was smoothed and stroked to neat perfection. Fang curled his lip. The dog’s eyes were orange-red, and the collar around his neck was tangerine-colored.

Fang snorted. The dog was running back and forth, chasing a small red ball around the grass. A little girl, about nine or so, was sitting on the front porch of the yard, giggling. Around her mouth were brown stains, and Fang sniffed the air in her direction, detecting a hint of chocolate. Ice Cream. Fang licked his muzzle.

“Good dog, buddy, good boy!” the girl was giggling. “Come ‘ere, Sammy!”

The Golden Retriever House Pet—“Sammy”—trotted obediently to the young child and laid his puppy head on her lap, rolling his orange-red eyes upward to gaze at her adoringly. The girl stroked him gently, as if afraid to mess up his fur.

“Sweetheart!” came a voice from the open screen-window in the house. “Lunchtime!”

“Coming, Ma!” the girl called back. She patted the Golden Retriever pup on the head. “Gotta go, boy.”

Then she retreated into the house, shutting the door and leaving the pup alone.

An idea had begun to form in Fang’s mind. He immediately leapt over the wall and trotted care-freely toward the Golden Retriever double.

“So!” Fang sat down and scratched an ear with his hind leg.

The House Pet Retriever whirled around and stared, horrified, at Fang. He started trembling. “Wh-wh-what do you want?”

“Who, me?” Fang lowered his eyelids and flashed a superior smile. “Just a favor—I do you one, y’do me one.”

“Who are you?” The dog looked confused, no longer startled or afraid.

“Name’s Fang.” Fang stood up again. “How’s picking’s, Sammy?”

“It’s Samwise.” The Retriever sat down. “Only Jamie calls me Sammy.”

“Jamie?” Fang scoffed.

“The girl. You saw her, right? I thought I caught your scent.”

“Scent?” Fang repeated. He snorted a half-laugh. “House Pets’re dull in the sense department, pal, or haven’t y’heard?”

“Do you have something you need, or can you just go?” Samwise glared at Fang.

The two Golden Retriever pups faced each other.

Fang shrugged. “A’ight, Sam, I’ll spell it out fer ya.” He wagged his tail a bit. “You notice somethin’ about us two pups?”

Samwise cocked his head. “We’re both Golden Retrievers.” He panted, grinning. “Am I right?”

“That’s the beginning, Sam, yer gettin’ there.” Fang rolled his eyes. “Look.” He led his fellow Retriever to a puddle nearby. “Check it out, pal.”

They both looked into the puddle.

Sam blinked. “We look alike, if that’s what you mean…”

“Bingo! Give the dog a bone!” Fang raised his front paws upward in the air, half-jumping in mock excitement. “Look, House Pet, my Street Dog gang think they’re better off without me. So I gotta show ‘em they’re wrong. Y’with me so far?”

“I-I guess.” Samwise was still panting a doggie grin. “Wait, wait, I got it. You wanna switch places for a day.”

Fang blinked very slowly. “Y’sure yer a House Dog? You may actually have a brain, champ. All I’m askin’ is that y’pretend t’be me. If they call y’Fang, go with it!”

“I see what you’re saying—what’s your name? Fang—but I can’t switch out.” Samwise was shaking his head rapidly, making his ears swing.

“Listen, it’s just fer a day.” Fang persuaded. “I’ll slip on that—ugh, collar, an’ I’ll give ya a wardrobe change, an’ bada-bing-bada-boom, we got a plan.”

“What do I get out of this?” Samwise asked, looking suspicious.

Fang’s eyes popped open and a surprise beginning-of-a-smile grew on his muzzle. “Boy, you’re good. Y’could practically be related t’me, pal!” He shrugged. “Y’get to spend a whole day with my gang, and learn th’ropes o’ the streets. Hey, it might come in handy.”

“Well…okay. But there’s one problem.” Samwise glanced toward the house and back to Fang. “How