weren't house dogs either, all scruffy and thin-furred. They were perfect friends.

"Uh...what're your names?" he asked, feeling shy enough to want to take the question back.

The spotted female immediately smiled at him, "I'm Afghanna," she said.

Skip pointedly glanced at the Retriever. He still didn't like this dog's attitude, but he was okay. A natural leader, it seemed. He didn't smile, but he didn't frown, either. "What about you?" he demanded.

"I'll give ya a hint, how's that?" the Retriever winked. Then he bared his teeth.

"Uh..." Skipper cocked his head. Nothing came to mind.

"No? Okay, how's this?" the Golden Retriever pup bit at the air, still baring his sharp teeth.

Skip lowered his eyelids and raised his eyebrows, confused.

"What do I gotta do, bite ya t'get ya to--" the Retriever stopped. A slow smile spread across his muzzle, eyelids lowering.

Skipper tensed, realizing what was coming. "W-Wait a second, now, don't..." He began backing away as the Retriever crept toward him.

"His name's Fang," Afghanna muttered, grinning. "Now, ah, run!"

Skip, breaking into a smile grin of his own, turned tail and fled across the bridge and up the grassy hills with Afghanna, Fang on their heels.

Chapter 3

(One Month Later...)

Skip now anticipated his meetings with Fang and Afghanna. He would never admit it to their faces, but they were his best friends. His only friends. He still wanted to bite Fang sometimes, the arrogant "King of the Streets" wannabe. But he never did. And Afghanna...no one could replace Crystal as a sister, but Afghanna came pretty close. She was talented and clever, with a tomboy side to her feminine gentleness. And Fang had his perks. Whenever Skipper was feeling down--more than usual--Fang would come up behind him and bark as loud as he could, sending Skip shooting three feet into the air, then the Yellow Lab would hit the ground running--running after Fang, who would laugh his ears off.

Fang had begun to call them his "gang". Skip didn't approve. Ever. They weren't his little posse to be dragged around wherever he went, Skipper liked to think he chose to be with them; it wasn't a responsibility. Sometimes Afghanna would visit him in the evenings and spend the night there, curled up next to Skip underneath a tree or a bush. It made the young Lab's nights in the Park a lot less lonely and creepy. But he never told her that. He just didn't complain or grunt. He hoped that at least told her he was grateful.

And Skipper introduced Afghanna and Fang to a little cove of purple-flowered reeds, long grass, and glittering moonlight--a place he liked to call the Firefly Fountain. There the inseperable trio discovered a heart engraved in the sidewalk around the wonderful, glittering-watered fountain, a heart that had two seperate pawprints engraved in it. At first Skip had curled his lip, but he saw Afghanna looking wistful for two seconds, like the thought of such a doggie romance (whoever the owners of the engraved-pawprints might be) enchanted her tougher side to soften up. And when Skipper had glanced at Fang, the Golden Retriever was cocking his head in confusion at the engravement, as though he couldn't quite comprehend the thought of one dog actually loving another so much that they'd want to stay together for more than a month. Or even a week.

Most days they'd wander the streets and get into mischief, but Skip always returned to the Park. Afghanna--only once--took the two male pups to the Junkyard, where she lived most of the time. They had some fun with the various piles of junk, but they always left in a hurry. Something there made the place seem empty and spooky.

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

"He'll be here. Quit pacing. Someone might think you're worried." Afghanna winked at Skip.

Skipper stopped in his tracks and glared at her, grunting. "I'm not worried about him! Nobody worries about Fang."

"You've got that right," Afghanna grinned. She laid her head down on her paws, one of them crossed over the other on the crate she was lounging on. "Fang can take care of himself."

"Not what I meant," muttered Skip.

They were in Fang's home alley. It was a Tuesday afternoon, almost evening. The sky was pink, clouds an even brighter shade of pink. The sun was dipping beneath the various buildings. Skip yawned. It was about to get dark. He hadn't slept much last night. Nightmares. Flashbacks. A nasty mix of the two. Nightmares of Crystal and Emerald.

Fang hadn't arrived an hour ago like he'd promised. Late. He was always late.

"Chill, Skip, he'll come soon."

Skip rolled his eyes. "As if. He's always--"

"Handsome? Talented? Ruler o' the Streets? Make that King. How's pickin's, gang?" Fang strolled into the alley as if he'd been gone only minutes.

Afghanna sat up. "Tick tock, romeo, you're a little bit stretched for time, aren't you?"

Fang strutted past her, hopping onto his box mound like a king to his throne. "Fashionably late. All the Street Dogs're doin' it."

Skip glared at him. When did he ever shut up and take responsibility for once in his life? But he wasn't snapping hurtful retorts, like he sometimes did when he was wrong and he knew it--and he didn't like it. That had to count for something.

"Gang, the Fangster lucked out t'day," Fang raised his eyebrows, eyelids still lowered. "We gotta new member."

"We aren't a gang," Skipper began moodily.

"New member?" Afghanna said at the exact same time.

"She'll be here in a minute or two," Fang promised.

"Not if she's following your example," Skip muttered dejectedly.

"'She'?" Afghanna paced in front of Fang's cardboard box mound, smirking up at him. "Does this mean you won't be flirting with me every day and making a slick-moved fool of yourself?"

Skip snickered. Affy's wit was priceless sometimes. The Australian Shepherd pup was probably the most clever of each of them.

"Nah. She's a House Pet." Fang scratched at an ear with a hind paw carelessly.

Afghanna stiffened. "A House Pet? You let a House Pet into the gang?"

"Who even says we're a gang?" Skip pointed out, snorting. "House Dogs are trouble, Fang, you know that."

"Wrong-o, Skipper," Fang smirked. "She'll do fine. She's got the makin's of a Street Dog. I just invited her to run free 'bout an hour ago." He acted like he'd said "I just had lunch an hour ago" instead.

Afghanna shook her head wildly, eyes shut, then opened them and straightened. "Wait, what?"

"How do you even expect her to be here, then?" Skip added, sneering, eyebrows lowered in his same scowl.

"She'll be here." Fang promised matter-of-factly. "Trust me."

"Every time you say that, the fur on the back of my neck does the Irish jig," Afghanna muttered.

Skip smirked.

"I dunno," Fang added. "She's pretty..."

"Hello?" Two large, blue eyes and a pointed milky-brown nose poked from around the corner of the entrance to the alley. "Is this the right place?"

"He-hey, princess, y'got yer collar off!" Fang greeted with a smirk. "Welcome t'the gang."

She was an orange mutt, about Skip's own age, trotting daintily into the alley. Skip saw the sparkle in her eyes when her gaze when straight to Fang and stayed on him for a long time. Then the pup continued down the alley until she stood in the center.

"Um, hello there," she repeated. Her voice was rich and melodious, with a smile already there. "I'm Rose."

Skipper saw her blush towards Fang. He arched a brow, mouth open in an O, and jerked only his head back. His lower eyelid of his left eye squinted a bit, and he blew air out of his mouth upward in a scoff, causing his head-fur to flap and then settle again.

Look at her! he wanted to knock some sense into Fang. She's as dopey as a drunk bluebird over you! He let his tongue hang out, keeping his previous expression on his face, and shook his head twice, grunting in disgust.

Then he noticed something.

Fang wasn't flirting with Rose. He wasn't winking at her. He didn't even call her 'doll'. And the way he called her 'princess' wasn't exactly friendly. He's completely oblivious! Skip realized. For once, he could've laughed aloud. The great King of the Streets doesn't notice the one female who's actually interested!

Afghanna arched a brow at Rose, eyelids lowered. "You're a little soap-scented to be following a nutcase like him around, aren't you?" she asked, jerking her head toward Fang.

"He's...I'm..." Rose blushed harder.

Afghanna may have been a tomboy, but Skip could tell that as far as Rose's emotions were concerned, Affy got the picture crystal clear.

Afghanna slid in next to Rose. "Nice to meet you," she muttered. "No worries. I get it."

Rose gave a weak, embarassed smile. Skip could have tossed up his T-Bone right there.

"Not to seem rude," Rose began.

"Oh no,