grunt in reply. "He just doesn't know how to tell you."

"He should spell it out for me then!" Blossom snapped without looking up, eyebrows lowered over her aqua-green eyes. "Because I can't tell!"

"Spell it out?" Checkers repeated, panting in a grin. "What do you want him to do, get a blackboard?"

"He's your dad." Rascal cocked his head, looking concerned for his friend.

"He's a jerk all the time!" Blossom barked.

"Seriously, he could write a novel." Checkers went on teasingly. He contemplated his statement, deciding aloud with confusion, "That is, if he 'ad hands. He's got paws. And he's a dog, so he can't write." He glanced at the rest of group, who were staring at him, and announced, "Gee, how would he spell it out?"

"Not helping," Ginger pointed out.

"Seriously," Rascal said to Blossom. "Skip isn't a total downer."

They all turned their stares on him.

"What?" Rascal glanced at each of them, confused. "That's what Dad calls him."

"And you're your dad's best friend, so you should know," Blossom sneered.

Rascal jerked his head back. "Well, I wouldn't say that..."

"Oh, forget it. Let's just goof off and ignore him," Checkers nudged Blossom.

Just then, the pup's parents, Afghanna, Fang, and Skip, appeared at the top of the hill.

"How?" Blossom retorted, delibrately turning her back on her father. "He's staring at me so hard, he's burning holes in my fur right now." She pushed a short ear out of her face with a forepaw. "Ugh!"

"How does that feel?" Checkers darted behind her and examined her fur. "Holes?"

"Shut up!" they all yapped.

Checkers recoiled, still grinning. "Okay, okay."

"Gin-ger!" came a sugar-coated, honey-sweet, musical bark. "We've got to go."

"Go?" Ginger's ears leapt on her head, messy head-fur tussled. "But Mo-om--"

"No buts--let's go. Come on." A gorgeous, long-legged female mutt, orange-colored and with ears that framed her fur, wearing a blue collar and a fake rose behind her ear, trotted up to the group of pups and nudged Ginger from behind with her pink-brown nose. "We're being called. Lunch time."

As she led Ginger up the hill, she nodded to Fang, Afghanna, when they went by.

A human woman was whistling in Ginger and her mother's direction.

Afghanna and Skip returned Rose's nod, eyelids lowered politely. But Fang didn't.

Ginger went on ahead and trotted up to her owner.

"Hypocrite," Fang hissed at Rose under his breath, red eyes flashing.

Rose gave him a look of dismay and regret. "Don't even go there. Maybe things would've been different if you had noticed. Just once."

Fang glared at her as she went by, but didn't reply.

Rose went to her owner and licked the woman's hand, glancing once back at her old friends before disappearing through the Park's main gate with her daughter.

Afghanna glared at Fang. "That wasn't nessecary."

"Sure it was," Fang retorted, keeping his hard red stare at the gate. "I was tellin' the truth."

"You didn't need to be such a jerk about it." Skip pointed out.

"Yer one to talk, Skipper. Look how ya treat yer own pup!" Fang snapped back.

Skip's eyes lit up and he let out a threatening snarl. "How about you back off? It's none of your business."

Fang blew air out of the corner of his mouth, eyes rolled up at the clouds, eyebrows sunk low over his eyes, the air from his muzzle tussling his head-fur in an all-around scoff.

"Guys. Calm down." Afghanna hissed at them. "The pups are watching."

The three parents glanced down the hill at their offspring.

"Hey!" Blossom squealed. "Check-ers!" She huffed and shook her head, making her ears flap. "Quit it!"

Checkers was running in circles chasing Rascal, who was always one step ahead of his friend. In the process, Checkers was kicking dirt into Blossom's face.

Skip rolled his eyes. "See what I mean? She's too edgy."

"You can fix that," Afghanna encouraged.

"No," Skip grumbled. "I can't. She's stubborn. More stubborn than Fang."

"Hey!" Fang exclaimed, outraged.

Afghanna rolled her eyes.

"Nobody's more stubborn than me!" Fang informed them haughtily.

Afghanna scoffed and began descending the hill toward the pups, saying, "I'll handle it."

Skip groaned. "Aff', no--"

"Chill out." Afghanna winked at her old friend and trotted down the hill and cleared her throat at Checkers, motioning for him to come over to her.

"Yeah, Ma?" Checkers picked himself up off the grass and wagged his tail at his mother, tongue out in excitement.

Afghanna leaned over and whispered into Checkers' ear.

Checkers' eyes brightened and he nodded over and over. Then he turned away from his mother and parked himself next to Blossom, whispering in her ear.

Blossom's eyes widened at first, then she blushed, and then she gave a tiny gasp. Her ears leapt up on her head and she yapped loudly. Then she got to her paws and began running around and wrestling her friends like there was nothing wrong with getting dirty at all.

Afghanna made her way back up the hill and sat in between Fang and Skip again, a small smile on her muzzle, eyelids lowered.

"What'd you say?" Skip asked, eyes wide as he looked from Blossom to Affy and back.

Afghanna kept smirking.

"C'mon, Affy, give us a hint!" Fang teased.

"One--I just told Checkers to tell her what she wanted to hear." Afghanna shrugged. Then she shoved her nose into Fang's face. "Two--we're adults now. Full-grown dogs. Do not call me Affy. Ever. I don't like it, and it's getting dull."

"Coulda fooled me," shrugged Fang cockily.

"All right," Afghanna bared her teeth in fake anger. "That's it!"

She bowled him over, and the two "full-grown dogs" began rolling over and over in the grass.

Skip took two steps backward to get out of their way, rolling his eyes but attempting to hold back laughter, one forepaw in the air.

The puppies at the bottom of the hill stopped wrestling and nudged each other, eyes fixed on their parents.

"Check it out," Checkers panted. "Mom's got your Dad pinned!" he shoved at Rascal with a paw, icy eyes sparking.

"No she doesn't!" protested Rascal loudly.

Then he took a better look. His ears jumped on his head.

"Hey Dad, need help?" he called.

Blossom snickered.

"Ah, nah, s'okay, sport, I got it under--" Fang broke off as Afghanna pressed a paw down on his stomach and they rolled over again. The breath was momentarily knocked out of him. When he got it back, the large Golden Retriever male yelped, "Get up 'ere fast, kid, I'm about to break somethin'!"

Rascal led the Puppy Pack up the hill and they sprang into the fray, yipping and nipping at Afghanna's spotty pelt, whereas she pretended to snap her jaws at them, "accidentally" missing every time.
 

Skip was about to grab his daughter by the scruff and haul her out before Afghanna or Fang did some real damage when Blossom broke apart from the scuffling and skidded to a halt in front of him.

"Come on, Daddy, we need you!" Blossom barked happily, trotting behind him and nudging one of his back legs with her head, fur tussled. "Aunt Affy's beating us!"

Skip stiffened. "Well, uh..."

"Pleeeeease, Daddy? Pretty please?" Blossom went around to the front of him, staring up at her father with big doe eyes. "Come on!"

A yip came from Rascal, who was kicked out of the dogpile and then got to his paws, leaping back into it.

Skip cracked a crooked grin and leapt into the middle of it.

Then the dust settled and the dogs--both parents and puppies--were all panting and in various positions in mid-fight, gasping for air in the grass.

"Y'know, gang," Fang panted as he lay on his back, squirming so that Rascal slipped off of his stomach and onto the grass again, "I like the way our future's goin', don't you?"

"Peachy," Afghanna replied, nuzzling Checkers' belly where he lay on his back next to Fang, making him giggle as it tickled. "I hope we survive these little monsters."

"They don't remind you of anyone?" Skip coughed behind them, shaking his fur out, Blossom sprawled on top of his back.

There was a long moment of silence. The puppies sniggered.

"Naaahhhh," Fang and Affy replied.

"Okay," Fang barked. "That's it--everybody up!"

And as he wiggled they all slid off of him. As soon as he got to his feet, he was dogpiled again.

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

Such was the life of the Street Dogs. If they ever grow up, this may or may not be what their future could be like. Use your imaginations, provided you have any (that is, any well-used), and create a future for them of your own. This is just a peek.

Hopefully, Fang and friends will stay puppies for as long as they can in the next few stories.