way to the car.

            The brown dog nodded and went back to sleep.

            Angel jumped from a broken mirror vanity onto a loose pile of plates and easily hoped on a sturdy desk. 

            “Angel…,” Scamp called back meekly from behind her.

            She turned and noticed Scamp was still stuck on the plate pile.  It wobbled back and forth as he tried, not jump from it, but to reach out and get a good grasp on the desk.

            “Once a house dog, always a house dog,” Angel said, rolling her eyes.  She grabbed Scamp by the ear and yanked him on the desk.  The plates he once stood on fell and crashed to the ground.

            Scamp gave her a weak smile.

            “So I’m rusty.”

            They made their way up the rest of the hill, Scamp occasionally having trouble.

            Eventually, they made it to the old car.  Resting on the front seat, where Angel sometimes used to sit, was a large dusty-gold dog, his scruffy tail sticking out of the car’s side.

            “Um…excuse me,” Angel said.

            The dog’s tail twitched.  He slowly lifted his head up and looked at the pups behind him.

            “Are you Star?”  she asked.

            “Speaking,” the golden dog said.  He was much taller than them, a little bigger in size than Scamp’s father, The Tramp.  “What do you pups want?  Aren’t you a little young to be here?”

            “We need your help,” Scamp said.

            “What makes you think I’ll offer my help?”

            “The kindness in your heart?”  Scamp smiled.

            “The dignity between fellow street dogs,” Angel said.

            “I’m listening, I’ll decide whether or not I’ll help when I don’t feel like listening anymore.”

            Angel didn’t like this dog’s demeanor because it was directed at her, but in a way she thought it was kind of funny.  The least she could say was he was straight-forward.

            “I’m looking for my family,” she said.

            Star gave out a short laugh.

            “Your family?  What makes you even remotely think I know them?”

            “Someone said you get around, you know a lot,” she said.

            “Not a lot,” he said, shaking his head.

            “I don’t remember much about them, but are they’re dogs that look like me?  Mentioned my name?  It’s Angel.”

            The golden dog stared hard at her.

            “No,” he said flatly.

            “Nothing at all?”

            “No,” he said again, this time much more strictly.  “Now get out.”

            “But…,”

            “Out!”  Star barked, flashing his large, white teeth.

            Scamp and Angel jumped, and slowly they backed away from the car.  Angel stared at the dog, obviously disgusted, and turned to leave.

            They asked a few of the other new junkyard dogs.  No one seemed to know anything.  Frustrated, Angel lead the way out of the junkyard.

            The pups searched for another three days, and still nothing turned up.

            “What a waste,” Angel mumbled.  “Got any bright ideas, now, Scamp?”

            Scamp lowered his ears.  He felt guilty but he wasn’t ready to give up hope and he knew neither was she.

            “We can ask a few house dogs, then,” Scamp said. 

            As they walked through town, they scouted for other dogs and the few other strays they came across didn’t know anything either.  They walked on until they came to a well-kept suburban street.  It was similar to the one Scamp lived on, but he made sure to stay clear of his block.

            They couldn’t bark at every window and see what dogs were where, so they kept their eyes open for any dogs outside.

            Scamp looked across the street and saw a dog sleeping on a porch.  She wore a bright pink bow around her neck and her fur was a bright golden color, even brighter than Angel.

            Scamp quickly ran over to the dog.

            “Uh, excuse me, Miss?”  Scamp called from the sidewalk.  He wouldn’t venture into her home unless she was all right with it.

            “Scamp, she’s sleeping,.  Let’s find someone else,” Angel said.

            The golden mutt fluttered her eyes open.  She looked at the curious pups and immediately wagged her tail.  She yawned and lifted her head.

            “Hello, how may I help you?”  She said.

            Her ears flopped down half-way and her brown nose wiggled a little, adjusting to the scents she took in as she woke up.  Her fluffy tail lay flat on the porch.

            Scamp approached the dog.

            “Hi, my name’s Scamp and this is Angel.”

            “Hello, Scamp and Angel.  I’m Angela.  What brings you here?”

            “We were wondering if you’ve seen any dogs like her around?”

            The older dog looked at Angel then looked at herself.

            “Hm, nope, unless you count myself,” she said with a cheerful smile.  “Why?”

            “I’m wondering if anyone can tell me about my parents,” Angela explained.

            Angela shook her head.

            “Looking for your family?  That’s a noble thing to do.  But don’t you think they would have found you by now?  You know, I had pups a long time ago, but I was lost to them.”

            “That’s so sad,” Angel sympathized.

            “Did any of your pups survive?”  Scamp asked, with way too much enthusiasm.

            Angela blinked slowly, and said, “No.”

            The sure look on Scamp’s face melted away.  As soon as he saw this dog he knew she knew something.  She was a spitting image of Angel, with longer legs (and both ears down).

            “Have you tried asking the junkyard dogs?”  She