her a few deep breaths and blinks before she could run.  The two caught up to Scamp and Angel, and they took refuge behind a nearby store.  The shadows of the building concealed them while Buster and some of his dogs chased down the street.

            “It won’t take them long to find us,” Star said, “you all should go home.”

            “We’re not leaving you,” Angel said.

            Now having a few minutes, Star looked down at the little dog.  She looked so much like her mother.  One ear stood up, likely a result of his genetics as both of Angela’s ears flopped down half-way. 

            Star noticed one of the dogs stop running half-way down the street.  He turned his head back towards the park.  The dogs knew they were close.

            “I’m not asking,” Star said, running from behind the building.

            He ran past the park, with the gang very close behind him.

            Angela felt her body thrust forward, about to run after him, but she stopped herself.  She had to return to pups.

            “Hurry,” she said, and lead them out of the alley when all of the dogs had gone.

            Scamp recognized Tony’s Restaurant, an old place his dad frequented when he was a street dog.  He would have considered hiding there, but the place was closed.  Thinking about his own father, he wondered what Angel felt about hers…except she didn’t know yet.

            Angel felt odd, running away like this.  Had the situation not been so dire, she’d be ecstatic to be running like this, with her best friend and her long-lost mother.  How she wished to ask her what happened, why they were never able to grow together as mother and daughter?  And her father, where was he?  Unless…

            Angel stopped.

            “Angel, we can’t stop,” Angela said.

            “He’s my father…,” Angel whispered, she wasn’t sure whether or smile or feel distraught.

            “Dear, what is it?”

            “Star is my dad, isn’t he?”

            The words caught Angela by surprise.  She was sure Angel would have figured the truth out sooner or later, but she was hoping for a better time to talk about it.

            “Yes,” she said.

            “And even if he wasn’t, we can’t leave him!”  Angel said.  “They’ll kill him.”

            Angela felt stuck.  She was standing the middle of the road, the choice to force the pups back to the safety of their human homes down one street and the danger that they’d be harmed if she turned around, at the expense of saving her mate…Angel’s father.

            Angela took a long, hard look down the street, the side that would lead to safety; back to her home, back to the home Scamp and Angel came from; back to their warm, cozy beds.  But it wasn’t right.

            She turned her head to approve of Angel’s choice to save Star, but the pups were already running back down the way they came.

            “You remind me of him, sometimes, you know that!”  Angela said, racing after the pups. 

            The night sky’s grey clouds were staring to get thicker.  Rain began to pour as Star came across the junkyard.  It was the only safe haven he knew.

            He had left town after Angela had had pups, but he returned to the junkyard as soon as found out Buster and his original gang had left.  When the new dogs came, he left again, but he never left town, and eventually came back.  He would always come back.  

            But it wasn’t really the junkyard that made him want to come back, there was nothing really special about the junk heaps.  But the junkyard was home base, the place he always came back to.  His only home.  He never left his small London town for a long period of time, because there was always that tugging feeling in his subconscious—that Angela was okay and that his pups were alive, somewhere.

            Even for a skilled junkyard dog, like himself, it was a little hard to make it up the trash hills.  Dirt was turning to mud and items were becoming as slippery as ice.

            As he made his way on the hills and hid amongst the furniture, he heard Buster’s loud laugh and the squishing sounds of the large pack behind him.

            “Congratulations, Star, you just brought us home early!”  Buster barked.

            Star heard the echo of his former friend, and hurried through more of the old rubble, clawing his way through sofas, lamps and various other items.

            “Spread out,” Buster said to his pack.

            The pack fanned out throughout the junkyard.  Star was grateful for the rain, for it sheltered his scent, but that wouldn’t keep him hidden for long.  The important thing was he had to keep moving.

            “Hey, you, when I ran into old Angie, she told me somethin’ interestin’,” Buster said, as he made his way through the junkyard with heavy, well-placed paws.  “I almost feel bad about this: one of my old dogs is your daughter!”

            Star heard his voice, echoing the truth.  He knew he had a daughter…technically, two daughters and three sons.  And every word of truth was like a blessing and curse.  He could run from the dogs, but he realized he could never run away from his troubled past.

            “Now, tell me something, Star, I thought you didn’t have any kids.  You never told me that; you’d think somethin’ that important would at least be mentioned to me.  You and I used to be bros, you’re abandoning me just like The Tramp!”

            His voice was closer.  Buster knew where he was, now he was just playing games with him.

            “Unless they’re not yours,” Buster said.

            Star surprised himself with how outraged he was, hearing this.  He had denied himself his pups all his life, denied his wife he cared for them.  But hearing it from someone else, it made him sick. 

            He was sick of himself, of lying to himself.  He loved Angela, he wanted to know his family, he was actually glad to know his daughter.

            “She is mine, Buster!  They all were!  All five of them!  And I would have abandoned you anyway, all you care about is yourself!”

            “And you don’t?”  Buster said, jumping in front of Star, cornering him.

            “I did.”

            Star stood his ground, feeling just as glad as Angela had, having met Angel.  He felt a great weigh was lifted from him, he felt lighter, in mind and body.  Nothing else mattered now, his pup was safe.

            Even as the Rottweiler-mutt approached, he smiled.

            “So long, lover-boy,” Buster said, closing in.

            Suddenly, a grand array of lights flashed on behind Star.  A huge, old orange amusement