highest branch and chattered angrily down at its attacker.

"Yeah, yeah, you win this round," Skipper panted, front paws on the tree trunk, glaring up at the squirrel.

A sudden commotion erupted from the edge of the woods, where the clearing of grassy hills near the red-bridge river and lake were.

Skipper dropped back onto all four paws and arched a brow in the direction of the noise, blinking. "Great. Just what I need. Tresspassers."

Another chattering noise came from above his head.

"I am not!" Skipper shot back to the squirrel.

More chatter.

"Leave my hunting skills out of this!"

A high-pitched cackling sound, along with a shaking of branches--then more chatter.

"Yeah, well, at least I don't eat nuts."

The cackling chatter stopped. A heartbeat later, Skipper was hit on the head with an acorn.

"Hey!"

More angry chatter. Then silence as the squirrel vanished into the tree's thick boughs.

Skipper growled and let out a bark, just to play with the tree-climbing rodent's high-strung nerves. Then he trotted off. No luck with squirrels. Time for fish. Yipee.

The hardest thing for him to do, being a dog, was to catch a fish. Normally you'd wait, barely even breathing, for a fish's shadow just to flick in and out of your line of vision. But not for Skipper. He had a different tactic--fool proof.

As he sat at the lake's edge, on the dipping-into-the-river's-shallows stretch of crass underneath the red bridge, Skipper crouched there like a house cat, waiting.

He only had to wait two seconds.

Then he took a twig in his jaws and stirred up the water. The shadow of the fat fish swam in the opposite direction of the twig--toward the bank--and right towards Skipper.

Skipper leaned down, dropping the twig, reading to plunge his muzzle in and snatch the fish up.

Suddenly a large rock fell from the top of the bridge and into the water directly in front of him. Not only did it scare away the fish, the large sheet of water splashed onto Skipper, drenching the Yellow Lab puppy entirely.

"Oh, come on, you have got to be kidding me!" Skipper groaned. Lunch? Ruined. Dry, comfortable feeling? Gone.

Then he heard voices. Skipper gritted his teeth. Whatever idiot just did that, I'm gonna put two big teeth marks somewhere they can see 'em, so they'll remember not to mess with me or my territory ever again!

He stormed up the grass and onto the edge of the red, wooden bridge.

A scruffy, spotted white mutt-pup, female, stood wagging her tail at a Golden Retriever pup, who seemed to be in a daze at the moment. They looked about Skipper's age, but maybe a smidge older.

Skipper let out a loud bark to let them know he was there.

But they still didn't notice him standing a few feet off.

The spotted she-pup looked up. "Did you hear that?" she gasped.

Skipper decided to make himself known more verbally. He took a deep breath and began stomping toward them, ears and tail still dripping wet.

"Hear wha--" the Golden Retriever began.

"Hey!" Skipper snarled. He glared at them. He was breathing hard, one eyebrow arched angrily, scowling at the two pups.

The Golden Retriever pup smirked at him. "How's pickin's, shorty?" he greeted smugly.

Skipper stormed up to him and stuck his nose in the somewhat-taller dog's face. "Don't you know what you just did?" he snapped.

"Nah," the Golden Retriever shook his head. His smirk grew. "I gotta tell ya, that bath y'took didn't help." He wrinkled his nose and reared his head back.

"Shut up!" Skipper barked.

"Hey, there's no need to get loud over this," began the spotted pup. "Who are you, and what are you talking about, if you don't mind?" she asked Skipper.

Skipper glanced at her. His eyes softened a bit. Something about her responsible, take-charge attitude reminded him of Crystal. He shook the feeling away and glared at her. "They call me Skipper--"

"Who does?" the Golden Retriever pup broke in. He leaned toward the spotted female. "He ain't the friendly type if y'get my drift..."

"Shut. Up!" Skipper spat through gritted teeth. He growled at the Retriever. This long-eared, red-eyed pup made Skipper feel young and inexperienced, like a stick-in-the-mud in comparison to the Golden Retriever's carefree, jokular attitude just now.

"How 'bout you take a hike, huh, small fry?" the Retriever puppy shouldered the spotted female pup out of the way and barged toward Skipper.

Skipper stood his ground, baring his teeth.

"Both of you be quiet!" the spotted pup snarled. She shoved in between them. Then she turned to Skipper. "I'm still not clear on why you're here, pal."

"Because," Skipper began angrily, "this knucklehead just soaked me when I was this close to catching a fish!" he huffed.

"You can catch fish?" the spotted pup snorted, sounding unconvinced. Skipper then noticed she had mismatched eyes; one was brown, one was blue. Somehow they made her prettier.

"Yeah. And climb trees," Skipper replied in a smug tone.

The Golden Retriever pup arched a brow. "So, you're a cat, is that what you're sayin'?"

Skipper tensed. How dare he! Stupid mutt. Skipper let out a low growl. "Don't push your luck, dude. This my home, and you're tresspassing, so whatever it is you're doing," he bared his teeth, "back off."

The Golden Retriever's eyes narrowed. "You musta been a real pleasure t'take care of. Where're yer 'rents?"

Skipper froze. How could he tell them without sounding weak? The very thought made him feel sick to his stomach, the thought of his mother laying lifeless on the road. He swallowed, then gave a deeper scowl, standing firm. "Gone." His voice vibrated.

"Look, Skipper--can I call ya Skip?" the Golden Retriever asked.

Skipper's head reared back, the rest of his body unmoving. Skip. He liked it. A shorter version of his name, like a term of endearment. Of course, no one had given him a term of endearment in so long...

The Golden Retriever didn't wait for him to answer. "If this's anyone's home, it's--" he stopped. Skip saw his eyes cloud. What was he going to say? Why was it so difficult? Maybe he'd been through something, too. Something tragic.

Skip cocked his head, still frowning, waiting for the Golden Retriever to finish.

The Retriever shook himself and continued, "We'll leave when we're good an' ready, capiche?"

Skip arched a brow. Yeah, right, he thought. Aloud he said, "Not if I can help it."

The Golden Retriever shrugged. "Y'can't. So I suggest," he turned back to where he and the spotted female pup had been standing, "y'join in."

Then he began making faces into the water's reflection, poking his head through the two wooden red bars to look down.

The spotted female looked at him for a moment, eyebrows arched, then smiled. She stood in the same position, looking down into the water at her reflection, and laughed. She had stuck her tongue out and crossed her eyes, her reflection doing the exact same thing.

Skip arched a brow and frowned deeply. They're a few pieces of kibble short of a full bowl. "What're you doing?" he asked, one eye squinted slightly, watching them.

"Come see fer yerself," the Golden Retriever invited without looking at him.

"If this is some trick," Skipper began, storming over and pushing his head betwen the wooden bars, the other two pups flanking him. He stopped and stared at their reflections--they were hysterical. "Wha...?" Skip stopped. He spluttered. Then he pulled himself away, standing in the middle of the red-wood bridge and cackling, "You look like a racoon!"

The Golden Retriever glanced at him over one shoulder, eyelids lowered and grinning. He jerked his head toward the female spotted pup. "Yeah, she's pretty scary, ain't she?" he snickered.

"Hey!" the female cried. "You're the scary one, pal. Look at the length of those ears!"

Skip snickered. "Ch'yeah," he added. "I'm surprised you don't trip over them."

"Well, I'm surprised y'can see with eyes like that," Fang shot back teasingly, glancing at the color of Skipper's eyes. "What'd they do, feed y'grass when you were a baby?"

Skip's eyebrows lowered. He stopped laughing. When I was a baby...

The spotted she-pup was suddenly beside him, nudging Skip with her paw. "What about your eyes?" she asked the Retriever. "You look half-crazy with red eyes like those!"

"Yer one t'talk, dollface," the Golden Retriever retorted. "One brown an' one blue, eh? It's like mismatchin' socks!"

"N-Now hold on a minute..." the spotted female began, trying to sound outraged, but she burst into another fit of laughter.

Skip joined in. He hadn't laughed this hard in ages. Suddenly he realized something. They knew his name, but he didn't know theirs. He never really had friends of his own, outside his family. Names were kind of important. But he felt shy. They were a month or so older than he was, and what if they didn't like him as much as they acted like they did? They weren't