walked in the door after his mother, tracking dirt behind him and into the house.

Bruce watched the two dogs disappear inside and waited a couple of minutes before stepping out of the shrubs and trotting down the street. Now, the brown dog was left all alone with nobody to make conversation with, not that he wanted to talk, but hearing one of his friends laughing beside him would comfort him in the eerie silence. A while after exiting the perimeter of Snob Hill, Bruce was greeted by the rough stone on his paws and the toppled trash cans that littered the streets. “Ah, finally a place I’m more comfortable with.” Bruce upped his trot into a quick paced walk as he thought about how hungry he was and hoped that T.P saved him something to eat; he looked up into the darkening sky that threatened to drop bucket loads of rain. Better hurry up and get home," his gruff voice echoed through the empty streets. "T.P will be worried 'bout me."

Durning his journey home, the chow-chow couldn't help but think about the white-collared puppy from earlier. She's really pretty, and I like her personality: So bouncy and outgoing...But she'd never go for a guy like me. My voice's to...he pondered over the words, Low and unwelcoming. She wouldn't like me even if I was the niciest dog in the world. The chow's ears and tail dipped at that thought.

As the chow chow got farther and farther into the dark streets, he heard the padding of paws behind him. They faint at first, but they soon grew louder.

Bruce grimaced and stopped under the pale glow of a street lamp; he turned around and stared stiffed legged into the shadows beyond, hopeing that the sound was just some dumb rat and not Buster and his crew. As a pup, Bruce's father left Buster's association, the Junkyard Dogs, to be with his mother as she gave birth to him. Buster didn't like that and threatened his father on several occasions but said that he'd only stop if he returned to the Junkyard Dogs. Bruce's father turned down the offer, making Buster even more angrier. A few weeks later, when Bruce was old enough to remember the event, Buster brought his crew to Bruce's parents' barrel and threatened his father. Bruce's dad defended him and his mother from Buster's wrath but didn't escape alive. Bruce and his mother lived in constant fear of Buster for two months; Bruce was out finding food for his tired mother and when he came back, he witnessed Buster killing his mother. The young dog fled, but he swore that he'd bring pain and suffering to Buster to avenge his mother.

Now, Bruce wasn't in the mood to try and fend off Buster or his dumb followers, he was by himself and very tired. The padding got even closer and the fur on the back of Bruce's neck and back spiked up; the brown chow chow let a long, low growl escape his throat.

"Buster," the young dog snarled, "I don't feel like beating your arse right now, so you'd betta back off or I'll-"

"Or you'll what, Brucey?"

Out of the shadows trotted a small, twany colored puppy with a big grin on his lips. Close behind him followed a black and white puppy who looked around cautiously.

Bruce's expression  relaxed as the sight of his buddies calmed him down.

"Aww, what's wrong, Brucy? Y'so scared of little ol me?" The tawny dog snickered as he began to trot around Bruce. The chow-chow's thick eyebrows went back to their normal positions and his features began to relax.

Suddenly the tan dog sat down in front of the chow and sighed. "Why y'so paranoid of Buster anyway? All he does is talk alotta crap but he doesn't do nothin'. What's 'sup?"

Bruce rolled his eyes at his friend and started walking off. "T.P," he mumbled. "What do you want? 'An don't call me paranoid, I ain't scared of Buster. But what did ya come here fo', huh?"

"Maybe if ya sat still, I could tell you."

T.P had already caught up with Bruce and stepped in front of him but Bruce sidestepped him and continued his trot home. Rolling his green eyes, T.P grimaced as the sentence exited from his mouth.

"Iggy's gone."

In front of him, T.P saw Bruce's body stiffen in midstep. The chow chow stayed dead silent and T.P continued his message. "She was...caught by the pound earlier this morning. I tried to get her off the truck, but as it took off I lost my balance and fell." T.P inhaled deeply through his nose. "Everybody's pretty pissed, too. Dexter's takin' it the hardest, though," T.P glanced over to his buddy walking slowly behind them with his tail and short tail held low. The schnauzer mix faced the chow again. "And that's why we're gonna need your help if we’re gonna bring our baby home."

Bruce took in a deep breath and was stiff for a while. He then turned toward his other two friends; he looked at the young and robust T.P, he was a jerk most of the time, but he was always ready to get revenge on anyone who hurt his baby, then to Dexter. He loved Iggy with al of his heart and, though he considered himself to be nothing but a coward, he was driven a inner desire to protect Iggy at all costs.

Bruce tossed back his head, knocking a few strings of his simi-curly hair out of his face. The young chow-chow trotted between his two commands down the street, turned around and said, "Well, what're you guys waitin' for?" He smiled as a cheerful look crossed T.P and Dexter's faces.

"Let's go get Iggy back."