Street Chains

Chapter 4

 

Both of the puppies’ group leaders stared each other down; Owl’s aqua green eyes were locked onto T.P’s abnormal green ones. Samuel lowered his head, eyes lowered to the ground as he tried to keep a low profile. Even though he had his head down, Samuel stood surely.

 

Jeremy kept his mouth shut as he looked on from behind Owl and the House Pet. The cream and brown blotchy Norrbottenspets backed up a few steps from the other five. “Uh, h-hi, guys...”

 

Owl and T.P looked up simultaneously. The terrier just snorted and walked closer to Owl. “What are you doing here?” he asked again, this time in a sterner tone. “I thought you were too pissed to come back.”

 

Now it was Owl’s turn to snort. She averted her gaze to the smaller puppy standing directly in front of her. “I rounded up a group to go and save Iggy. I knew you wouldn’t be able to do it on your own, and I already figured that you were going to get Cross.” She paused then continued. “I thought about joining forces with you, but then I don’t wanna get killed in a botched rescue mission.”

 

“Are you saying my leader skills are bad?!” T.P erupted. The tan fur on his neck and back instantly bristled and his face scrunched up. “Well, are ya?”

 

The question bounced off of Owl’s chest and fell to the ground. Owl kept a straight face, watching T.P’s scrunch up even more in anger and annoyance. Why was she ignoring him? T.P hated being ignored and Owl knew this.

 

“Answer me, dangit!” With a mighty lunge, T.P shot forward at the gang’s second-in-command. Owl saw the attack coming and swiftly stepped to the left, letting T.P land on his face. When he looked back up, Owl was facing him, her back to Bruce and Cross; the two followers had astonished looks on their canine faces and wide eyes. Samuel, who was behind T.P, quickly walked over and helped his friend to his feet. Two pairs of eyes, one  purple and the others green, narrows at the red and cream puppy.

 

“Owl!” Sammy cried. “What’s wrong with you? I know you think this is all T.P’s fault, but COME ON! He’s trying to save our baby and what are you doing? Causing more chaos than there was.”

 

The collared male shook his head again. “Owl, I’m disappointed in you. You’ve never acted like this and...and I’m joining T.P’s group.”

 

With that said, he bounded past Owl just as she snapped at his legs in disapproval, and stood with his chest puffed out and brow furrowed in front of Bruce and Cross.

 

“Fine! Be that way,” Owl spat back. “C’mon, Jeremy-”

 

She was greeted by a blur of cream and brown as Spooky ran past her and stood by his colleagues. Owl’s mouth hung open, she turned to face the group of now four puppies, T.P soon making it five when he padded over there. A cocky grin found its way to his muzzle as he faced Owl again. “So what’s it gonna be, huh? Are ya going in alone or are ya coming with us?”

 

The pitbull mix puppy stiffened her legs and barked out, “Not in a million years! You guys go and see if you can bring Iggs back without me and I’ll see you all in the backyards of a fancy lil’ house on Snob Hill by next week!”

 

“Owl, don’t be like that,” Jeremy called out, but Owl had already turned her back and was turning the corner, heading back to the block she had just arrived from.

 

“Ah, who needs her and her bad attitude anyway?” T.P asked, making a disgusted face. He turned back to face the others. “I think there’s enough of us.”

 

“Yeah,” Samuel chimed in. “Let’s just go get Iggy and make sure she’s in safe, loving hands again.” Bruce gave a half of smile at that statement. “I couldn’t agree more with’cha, Sammy.”

 

“Well let’s go then!” T.P barked and ran down the street. His friends were close on his heels as all of them bolted down the sidewalk, out of Snob Hill and into the familiar territory of the Street Dogs.

 

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It had been a little over four hours since the pound had picked little Iggy up. Since it was a workday, and a busy one at that, Anthony O’Mally had to patrol around town, scooping up bothersome stray dogs as he went, and make sure that the citizens of the town were safe from any rabies-infected, mange-containing, or just pesky pooches who were unlucky enough to be born a street dog or were dumped by their owners.

 

The dogcatcher had picked up five more pups in addition to the one he had caught earlier that morning: a tiny mix breed pooch who was tormenting someone’s pet dog in the community of  Safe Haven Meadows, two stray puppies who weren’t old enough to fend for themselves; Anthony thought that they were way too cute to be locked up in the back of the pound, but he knew that they would be there for a while anyway. He hoped that he could manage to change some of the employees’ minds and have the pups moved from back there and to the front desk where they had a better chance of getting adopted.

 

In the back of his car was an adult black and white collie mix and that cream and black puppy he got earlier. The other dog that was back there before now was a scoundrel mutt named Toughy. The brown dog used to live in the pound, Anthony remembered seeing him a few months back when he first applied for a job there. Lucky for Toughy, the mutt was adopted and his blue collar with the golden tag told the man exactly where he lived in Safe Haven so he could return him to his owners.

 

All of this happened hours before Mr. O’Mally returned to the pound. When he pulled the tan and green Model-T up the gravel driveway, there was already someone there to help him, George, another dogcatcher who worked for the pound.

 

At first, the tiny troublemaking dog made a barking fit when the car stopped, but when George opened the wired door and reached in to get her, the small animal was as quiet as a mouse and she made no attempt to bite the hand of Anthony’s assistante. Next came the two babies; Anthony took care of them himself while the other man locked the car’s back door.

 

After both men went into the pound, Iggy heaved a sigh, causing the collie-like dog to look at her from the corner of his eye. Iggy smiled nervously when she noticed and the older dog went back to looking out the car’s wired door. The cream puppy stopped smiling as her expression fell. How does he manage to be so calm in a time like this? Doesn’t he know that he might be...killed here?

 

The collie’s blue eyes narrowed and he lifted his lip. Iggy went over to the door to see what was wrong and her heart dropped when she saw the dogcatcher and his friend returning. The assistante had a large, wooden handled net in his hands while the other man who had captured Iggy and the other dogs carried nothing. He opened the door and his partner positioned the net to catch the larger dog in the car.

 

Iggy’s eyes widened and she crouched on the floor in a quivering heap. The collie stood up, teeth now bared, tail held high; growling as the man opened the door all the way up, he yelled, “Run kid!” Iggy didn’t budge. “Run NOW!”

 

That booming voice was all it took to get her chubby little legs moving. Iggy leapt out the back of the pound car just as the adult dog had the net slammed over him, trapping him inside a black pattern of criss-cross. As soon as she hit the ground, however, Anthony’s large hand bundled around her scruff, pinching into her flesh. As he attempted to lift her from the dirt, Iggy frantically swiveled her head around and chomped down on the guy’s hand. The dog catcher let out a sharp shout, one that sounded like that of a parent dog’s bark when her pups were playing too rough with each other or making too much noise for her to bear; “Stop! Don’t do that!”

 

Iggy immediately let go of the man’s hand and he took advantage of the situation to push her body to the ground and held her there. Iggy let out a muffled gasp and opened one eye to see the collie who had tried to save her life being dragged past her and into the pound in the net. He saw Iggy and gave her a firm, but sad look; Why didn’t you run when I told you to? Iggy responded by lowering her eyes. I’m sorry.

 

From his back pocket, Anthony pulled out a tattered green leash. Unwrapping it, he sat Iggy up by the handful of skin and fur he was still holding just in case she tried to bite him again, and slipped the ring tied into the leash around her neck. Surprisingly, Iggy didn’t put up a fight.

 

“Alright,” the man said as he stood up, leash firmly in his grasp. “This way, little lady.” When he walked toward the pound’s door, Iggy pulled back, planting her feet in the ground as she did so, but he yanked the lasso. The ring tightened around the cream dog’s neck and Iggy let out a hack. She coughed a second time then frowned at the man before she obliged, slowly trotting behind him.

 

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“C’mon, little lady.”

 

The tall man dressed in a city pound uniform quickly walked down the aisle of dark, barred cages. Behind him, being led by a green leash, was a

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