AUTHORS NOTE:

Hello fellow Lady and the Tramp source-rs, I see you have been brought to my first *cough* GOOD *cough* fanfiction. You may be wondering, why did you make a small gang of dogs? Did you rip off Doverstar? I'll tell you the story of how this fanfiction came to be.

When I was about the age of seven or six, I would draw a large group of street dogs (5, 6, 7 etc.) that I would call "The Junkyard Dogs" (I hadn't watched LATT2 before). There would be around 5-6 protagonists and one antagonist. I did many of these, all different, except I still have a few drawings and I even remember the names! One gang consisted of a doberman named Drake, a guard dog, two beagle mix twins Milo and Theo. That was all for one gang because I never really finished. Another gang had many dogs including a blood hound named Marshall, and an antagonist german shepered-doberman mix named Shane. There were other dogs in that gang, I just can't recall the names. Anyways, 7-5 months ago, I had wanted to make a fursona on LATTS and I wanted to make a few characters based off a few of my best friends, whom would be my fursona's friends. I chose my two best friends to star in my fanfic. Of course, their real names aren't Ryan and Sarge ('Sarge' actually does have a scar on his face in real life), but those are their nicknames. They did indeed names their characters chose their breeds, and 'Sarge' helped with his parents' names and history. Soon, I had came up with concept sketches and presented them to my friends, whom were quite impressed. Soon, I had reviewed some VERY old sketches of Kali. She went through many changes, infact I might change her design. 

After a while, I came up with a plot and started to write my fanfic, I even came up for ideas for prequels and sequels, and here we are.

Sorry for boring you and now may I present: Catching the Culprits!

     Chapter 1: Missing Them

It rained. It poured, heavily. These darn April showers. My beautiful, soft fur, was now drenched. My silver metal chain was getting soaked, my golden cross was dangling from it. I shivered. If only I hadn’t been the one who had to get food. Sarge could’ve done it, Ryan could’ve too. I spent my whole entire day searching for food. I informed Ryan and Sarge that it was a Sunday and most places were closed. The only place where you could get food was the Junkyard. But it’s not safe there. If you encounter Buster, you’ll be dead meat. Or at least that’s what I’ve been told. Tramp told me about Buster and how they were friends. He told me about this purebred cocker spaniel he met. Lady’s her name, I think. Well, Tramp fell in love with her and Buster grew jealous. Then, Tramp and Buster fought and that’s when Tramp told me to stay away from him and to NEVER EVER enter the junkyard. That’s what I told Ryan and Sarge but, they wouldn’t listen. They said that it was the “female’s job to get the food”. I argued and said we weren’t a pack. Well, they went on blabbering and blabbering and well here I am searching for food in the pouring rain. Puddles everywhere getting my aching paws soaked. 

I suddenly smelt something. Food? No, an aroma similar to smoke. Barbaq-Nope. No barbeques in the rain. Well maybe it IS food. I immediately bolted to where this smell was. I could find it easily considering I’m part bloodhound. Instantly, I came closer to the smell and crept closer and closer to it. Suddenly I felt some heat. Not enough to dry my fur but, perhaps warm enough for a mouse or a roach. At least there’s heat.

I noticed it coming from the corner of an alley with a large, torn up, pale green rag covering this smoky scent. 

I poked my head from underneath the rag and realized it was Sarge and Ryan. 

Ryan was rolled up in a ball with one of his shaggy chocolate colored ears covering his right eye, he was shivering. His stomach growled yet he tried to ignore it.  

Sarge was cold, I could easily tell. He tried hiding it. 

I noticed that the smoky aroma was a small flame. 

“Hey guys. How’d you get this fire?” I questioned.

“Hey Kali.” Sarge greeted. 

“I went down to an old chapel, snuck in, and snatched a lit candle near the altar. We could’ve used you though. Y’know how everyone thinks you belong to the deacon because of your c-“

“Did you get us food?” Ryan interrupted. His stomach growled.

“Sorry guys. I told you shops aren’t open on Sundays.” I confessed.

“You said you’d be getting the food!” Ryan argued.

“Maybe if you actually STOP thinking about food for ONCE you might not be AS hungry!” Sarge barked.

“Hmm..” Ryan said. He paused for a moment. “Okay Sarge, new plan.” Ryan had obviously thought about food. “It’s still unfair that you didn’t get food.”

“The shops weren’t-“

“It’s not her fault, Ryan. And lay off and stop acting like a pup.” Sarge growled.

“You’re not my dad.” Ryan said.

“I never said I was now did I?” Sarge replied like a smart-alec.

“You were acting like one!” Ryan argued. 

“Yeah but that doesn’t mean I WAS your fath-“

“Okay guys, enough! Stop arguing!” I barked.

“Now you’re acting like a mom.” Sarge said.

“I’m the ONLY machure one here!” I growled back at Sarge. I shook my fur, releasing the raindrops, which fired at Ryan and Sarge. I wasn’t dry, but I wasn’t as wet as before so it was better. I then lay down and slowly closed my eyes with the small fire heating me.

I soon fell into a deep slumber. 

A dream slowly came into my head. It was almost like a flashback, from when I was a pup. 

Mother, Father, my siblings and I went for a walk throughout the town. A friend of my father’s, Tramp, came along as well. My older siblings and I were playing around while Tramp and the grownups chatted.

Appearing out of nowhere, several dog catcher cars appeared. Men with uniforms, came out holding huge nets. I was frightened. Father took me by the fur on my neck and held me in his mouth. A net rapidly swooped down near father, he pounced on the dog catcher causing me to fly in the air. Tramp caught me in his mouth by the scruff on the back of my neck, and bolted away before those scary men could catch us. I never saw mother, father, or my siblings ever again.

Tramp took me into an alley.

“Where’s Mommy and Daddy and sisters and brother?” I asked in my little puppy voice (I sure was cute back then).

Tramp frowned.

“They’re not here anymore.” Tramp said. 

I was puzzled and cocked my small dainty head to the side.

“What do you mean, Uncle Tramp?” I questioned.

“They’ve been caught” he paused. “By the pound.” He added. 

Now, I was only a few months old and I didn’t know much at all. But I knew what the pound was. And I knew that it was no good.

I sobbed and sobbed. Tears poured down my furry cheeks. I stayed close to Uncle Tramp. Then, I awoke. The fire was out. Sarge was lying down in a relaxed position sleeping soundly, while Ryan was on his back, his arms pointed upward and his sepia colored paws twitched frequently. His mouth was opened and his watery pink-red tongue was hanging out of his mouth. Perhaps he was dreaming about chasing something, perhaps a small rabbit, or a meat truck. He often had those dreams.

I was cold, and the ground was wet, but it was no longer raining so, I walked outside and looked up at the stars. Each dazzling little beautiful star twinkling from high above. 

“Are you up there mother? Father? Brother? Sisters?” I quietly asked. I dropped my head and softly cried. 

I heard a small noise. Not any louder than a tip-toe of a baby mouse. I turned around and saw what the noise was. It was Sarge. I quickly dried my tears. 

“Hey.” He whispered. “’You okay?” I thought I heard you cryin’.” 

“No, I’m all right. I just-“ I dropped my head again. “I just miss my family.” 

“There still with you.” Sarge said.

“Not a chance.” I quietly retorted.

“There with you in your heart.” He comforted. 

I was still gloomy about the loss of my family, and wherever Tramp left to, leaving me out here, with no one. Until, Ryan came back and Sarge left the Police Force. 

Sarge walked back inside the shelter he and Ryan had made, I stayed outside for a while, and looked around. I looked at the asphalt ground, the brick walls, the huge open space where I could see another alley, a small one, only a few feet wide, and about seven feet long, a dead end. I gazed upon the bright, beautiful silver moon, how it was shimmering on everything, not much of a light, but it sure was glamorous. I looked again at the twinkling stars, they sparkled and shined, but their shine wasn’t as bold as the radiant moon. 

I sighed, as my stomach growled fiercely. 

“I might as well look for food now.” I said to myself. 

I started trotting toward the small alley, and I checked my ways for traffic. The alley was full of trash cans, my search might be successful. I searched through one rotten trash cans, looking for food, perhaps chicken skin or something a human didn’t mean to throw out. I dunked my head in, only to find orange rinds, pieces of green broken beer