exiting it and continuing on through to the old and more historic locations of the town. They came across a very old wooden house that had probably stood there for around 50 years. It had been abandoned and it was in a very quiet and fairly remote location from the main suburban areas.  

“This used to be my home when I got adopted.” Tramp said.

“You had a home before going to the streets?” Scamp asked in surprise.

“Yes. When I was only six weeks old; my mum and dad put my brothers, sisters and I up for adoption. I got picked up by this very sweet old lady called Judith and taken back here. I lived a very happy house life with her for just over a year before she finally passed away from old age at 72. The truth is that she was ageing and feeling lonely after her husband passed away several years ago; and so she wanted some pleasurable company to keep her happy until it was her time to go. She just didn’t want to go out depressed.” He paused for a second before continuing. “Anyway, it was sad losing her since our bond never lasted long, so I was missing her; but I had to quickly get over it as the next part of my life came: The collar free life. I knew that I was now old enough to start taking care of myself and face up to some new challenges. So then I escaped to the streets.”

“Did she ever give you another name?”

“She named me Butch; and so the name tag hung on my collar after it became official. The boys at Tony’s noticed it after I fled to the streets and they always called me by my first name. I never officially became THE Tramp until I proved that I could stand on my own four paws and tackle the streets without fail.”

Scamp became confused. “What do you mean?”

“The same that Buster put you through to qualify as a street dog: I was put through several tests by a teacher to prove that I could become a worthy stray. So I kind of became a student of one of the more experienced street dogs; Rocky: A German Shepard/Sheepdog hybrid. We both met in an alleyway in the middle of the town several days after I fled this house; and I told him that I desperately wanted to become a street dog, but he seemed untrustworthy at first because I was a house dog. Even then he saw how desperate I was and he was willing to give me a chance by setting me up with several tests. They involved stealing or begging for food at restaurants, fighting vicious street mutts, and learning the moves and stunts performed in the alleyways. All this training that I did with Rocky was tough, intense, and often very physical; and so it was hard to keep up with him, but all I needed was time and practice; including improvement on my fitness levels. The thing is that if you want to survive out here, your heath and fitness must be in top shape, otherwise you will not last as long as the others.”

“That makes me wonder how much longer Scratchy would have lasted out here.” Scamp briefly added, thinking about one of the former Junkyard Dogs, who was very scruffy and was losing his hair due to constant scratching from fleas.

“Yeah; looking at him, he probably wouldn’t have lived for more than 6 to 7 years at the least.” Tramp affirmed. “I hope that he is in better health now.” He then got back on point. “Anyway, the training went on for a month, and I succeeded in every test that he put me through. In that time I had survived every risk taken: I never lost a fight, always got a feed when needed, and outsmarted every single dogcatcher that targeted me. Not even Rocky got caught, no surprise, because he was very experienced. So then Rocky officially declared me a street dog and removed my collar. There were not many words that I could describe how I felt after finally making it to this stage; it felt so great.” Tramp then went from smiling in sweet memory to slight sadness.

Scamp noticed his father’s sudden change of facial expression. “Did something bad happen after that?”

Tramp sighed sadly just before speaking: “Shortly after it all happened, Rocky got struck down by a deadly paralysis tick that got him when he was walking through long grass, and the toxin spread to his bloodstream and slowed his respiratory system; which then killed him.”

Scamp looked both shocked and fearful at the thought of ticks.

“Just before he passed away…” Tramp continued sadly. “…he told me that I was the best student he had ever trained and that I am a natural born leader; so he called me The Tramp, and the name stuck ever since. He added that I will have the other street dogs look up to me when I train them to survive. Those words were very flattering, and to me he felt like the father that I never had; so it was quite heartbreaking for me to see him go. He was about 11 years old when he passed, so he seemed to be growing older, but it was still sad, considering that he was not the first loved one that left me.” Tramp’s voice was lowered in a sad and soft tone as he was saying this, but it then rose up slightly again when he got to the next topic.  

“Anyway,” He continued. “I was left alone to run my own gauntlet; and not long after then, this is when I found the Junkyard. Come with me, and I’ll show you.”

“The Junkyard?!” Scamp asked in shock, thinking that going back there would be too risky. “Won’t Buster be there? He could rip us to shreds.”

“Sparky told me that Buster had left the Junkyard and a new breed is currently roaming there; so it will be safe. Trust me.”

“If you say so, Pop.” Scamp replied in slight hesitance.

Regardless, they both headed away from the house and headed in the direction of the railroad tracks, which would lead to the Junkyard. After about 10 minutes of travel, they arrived at the pipe that led through a brown fence to the Junkyard, which was still piled up like a pyramid, so it could clearly be visible from outside the fence.

Tramp and his son walked through the pipe and stopped at the other end where the entire Junkyard was visible. But they stayed where they were at a safe distance where the new junkyard dogs could not see them easily.

“The Junkyard was where my stray career began.” Tramp said quietly. “I found this place and knew that this was where the real dog was brought out of every stray. There was so much that you could do in this place. Here you could have as much recreational fun as you wanted and cause as much trouble as you desired, and whatever you did was your business. So then I immediately invited fellow strays into the group, provided that they all got what it took to survive on the streets. They wanted to play around and have some fun in this place, but as leader of the Junkyard it was my duty to make sure they could handle the pressure of the streets. Most of them succeeded, but unfortunately several got picked up by the dogcatchers; and if they did not escape the pound within a week, they were not allowed back in; plus impoundment was a warning for them: If they escaped once but got picked up once again, they were out of the Junkyard and left only to defend for themselves. If you wanted to earn the respect of the leaders and retain your place, you had to be very good.”

“So how did Buster come by you, if you don’t mind me asking?” Scamp asked, eager to get this matter off of his chest.

Tramp then thought that Scamp really should know the whole story about him and Buster since Scamp already knew part of it.

“Not at all.” Tramp began. “After only 3 weeks as leader of the Junkyard, I found this little Doberman/Rottweiler hybrid all alone in an alleyway. He had been abandoned by his family and was left to defend himself. Knowing that he was too young to, my heart kind of fell his way and I took him in. I introduced him to the Junkyard and promised to take care of him until he was older. He also insisted on becoming a street dog, so I taught him all the tricks that I knew. He also worked on his strength as well as speed, so he ended up becoming slightly more muscular than me when he grew to an adult in almost a year. He was very good at what he did, and several of the Junkyard Dogs who wrestled with him got beaten by the advantage of his amazing strength. So because he was probably the fittest member out of the group, he became my number-two dog and we formed a duo, but we also became best friends because he also looked up to me as a father figure.”

“Was it always this way before you met mom?” Scamp asked.

“Not always. After leading the Junkyard for more than a year, I knew now that I was experienced and old enough to take care of myself; so I decided to move on and start a new career as a lone stray. I gave up my leadership and let Buster take over; mainly because he was my second-in-command and was the strongest and fittest member of the pack. He was even stronger than me, but I was also faster than him. Regardless, I left him in charge and promised that we would still be friends because I would come and visit every now and then; but I just wanted to go solo. He seemed flattered but also disappointed that I was leaving him, but he still accepted, and we left it from there.”

Just as Tramp was finishing this, Scamp remembered Buster’s Junkyard Dog Motto: “In the Junkyard, it’s every dog for himself/herself.” He then thought: