Fang's Story

Chapter 1

A large male Golden Retriever, fully grown, splashed through puddles on his way, rain soaking through his pecan-brown, golden pelt. He panted, steak in his jaws. This would have to be enough until he could get more to eat. He wouldn't be the one eating it tonight--but that was just fine by him. Thunder boomed overhead. Lightning lit up the streets of a certain small town.

BOOM!

Lightning crackled again.

CR-R-AA-A-CKKK!

The flash lit the sign above the Golden Retriever:

"Town Park."

The large dog went on running, and didn't stop until he got to a grove of tick, high bushes, the one place humans never went to in the Park. He scooted underneath the bush in the middle, dripping wet.

"I'm here!" he panted. "I'm here. I got the food."

A tiny, tiny yipping and squeaking came from the shadows in front of him. The Golden Retriever's heart melted.

"Is it...have you...?" he gasped out.

"Yes," came the soft, honey-dipped voice of another dog. "Just one."

"One?" The Golden Retriever set the steak down and padded forward.

A low growl emenated. "Not too close, Chestnut, it's only been in the world a few minutes. Back up, please."

Chestnut, the male Golden Retriever, did as he was told, taking two steps backward, trembling all over with joy. "I can barely see."

As if on cue, lightning lit up the bush as it had the Park's sign and the town's streets.

It showed a gorgeous, creamy-yellow female Golden Retriever, an adult. She lay on her side, just barely panting. At her belly squirmed a tiny, helpless wet puppy, golden and beautiful, with long little ears and a brown nose. Its eyes and ears were, of course, closed. But it was perfect to Chestnut.

"It's so beautiful, Lily," Chestnut rumbled, bursting with pride.

"Mmm," Lily smiled. "It's a boy."

"A boy!" Chestnut almost leapt into the air, but contained himself, satisfied with a shiver of joy down his spine, all the way to his rapidly-wagging, thick-furred tail.

"Yes."

"What shall we name it, dear?" Chestnut dared to move closer, nuzzling his mate.

"We'll know."

"When?"

"When the time comes, we'll know the perfect name."

"But when will that be?" Chestnut begged.

"Patience, my love," Lily replied smoothly. "Why, my mother named me when I was about eight months old."

"Eight months!" Chestnut whined. He paused, cocking his head comically. "What did she call you until then?"

Lily stopped, thinking hard. She finally answered simply, "Puppy."

"Puppy?" moaned Chestnut. "Oh, no! Don't tell me we'll--"

"Yes."

"Ohhh!" groaned her mate.

"Relax, dear. It'll have to be a name we both agree on."

"All right." Chestnut stepped forward and nuzzled her. "But I'll be calling him son until we've figured something out."

Lily nuzzled his back. "I wouldn't have any other way."

Chapter 2

(Four Weeks Later...)

Lily opened her eyes slowly. She yawned. Sunshine streamed through the breaks in the leaves of the bush she called her home in the Park. She tried to sit up, but a yap at her side made her freeze.

Her little son, a month old now, teething, was grunting and making tiny, soft growling noises in his sleep. Lily looked around for Chestnut. He left in the morning. It's the afternoon. He should've been back hours ago.

A puppified yawn sounded below her, and she pressed her nose to her pup's cheek. "Good afternoon, sleepy head. We had a good nap, didn't we?"

The Golden Retriever pup lifted his head, already-long ears dangling at the sides. His eyes squinted shut. "It's dark out," he squeaked.

Lily chuckled. "Open your eyes, puppy."

The pup sat up and blinked open his scarlet-red eyes. They popped open wider. "Hey, it's almost lunchtime!" He sprang to his paws and head-butted her side. "Wake up, wake up, Ma, you've slept in!"

The Golden Retriever puppy's little hind paws scuffed up dirt as he moved them, his head buried in his mother's side-fur.

"Puppy--"

"C'mon, get up!"

"--oof, not so hard, dear." Lily rose to her paws, smiling. The puppy tumbled backward, ears tangling in his paws as he struggled to gain his footing.

The pup entered the sunshine-filled daylight outside the bush, breathing in the fresh spring air.

Then he bolted from his mother's side and began sniffing, nose to the ground. He tripped over his own ears, then stumbled to his paws, yapping at a root with a lady bug on it. The lady bug flew off. The pup grinned, tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth.

He spied a butterfly and immediately pounced into the air, missing it. The Park was teeming with life, with no humans this far into the woods to disturb the Golden Retriever family.

"Don't go too far, dear," Lily called, flopping down in the sun. The pup had his front paws up against a large oak tree, tongue still hanging out of his jaws, showing his teeth to a squirrel.

"Ah, Mom," the puppy complained, trotting back to her. "I never get to do anything fun."

"You'll have to stay by the den," Lily nodded toward their bush, "until your father returns."

"When's Dad coming back, anyways?" The puppy grunted, sitting down with a thud on the grass.

"Soon, sweetheart. He's bringing lunch with him."

Her son looked so utterly bored she decided to liven things up a bit.

"How about a story?"

The pup was instantly ecstatic. "Yeah yeah yeah!"

Lily chuckled. "Settle down, settle down." She let out a tired breath. "Now, where shall we start? What would you like to hear about?"

The puppy was crossing his eyes--the butterfly had landed on his nose. He took a snap at it, jaws flying through the air. He missed. He sneezed.

He licked his chops. "The Tramp!" he squeaked.

Lily's eyes widened. "Goodness, only your father knows how to tell those kinds of stories." She shook her head hopelessly. "Well," she began, "there was the time The Tramp took off with a bunch of stolen goods."

"Goods?" The pup arched a caramel-colored eyebrow, looking puzzled. He blinked his large red eyes.

"Treats."

"How did get 'em?" The puppy lay down next to his mother, his fur pressed against her side.

"He tricked the driver of the truck that was storing the goods. Do you know what was in that wagon?"

The puppy waited.

"Meat."

He panted, nearly drooling.

"A whole wagon full of it," Lily continued with a wink. "The Tramp swooped in out of nowhere. He pretended the driver had run him over, or at least hit him. The driver jumped out of the truck and tried to wake the unconscious scoundrel. The Tramp waited until the last possible second, then he gave the human a bick lick on the cheek. And he ran to the front of the truck, somehow switching off the brakes and making the truck move without the driver controlling it. Then The Tramp leaped into the back of the truck and had a feast, all to himself."

"Wow!" the puppy exclaimed, chasing his tail. "He did all that--really?"

"Really." Lily smiled.

There was a snapping of a twig. Both Golden Retrievers, mother and pup, whipped their heads in that direction.

The puppy began creeping toward the sound, where a large, wide oak tree was, paw by paw. "Grrr-rrrr-rr!" he growled playfully.

A shadow fell across the pup's form. Lily leaped to her feet. "Sweetheart, get back from there!" she barked, hackles raised.

A head poked out from behind the tree.

Lily breathed a sigh of relief. "Chestnut! Where have you been, it's been hours!"

"That long?" Chestnut joked. But he was gasping for breath. "Listen," he muttered. "We don't have much time."

"No time?" Lily struggled to her feet, padding over to him and sniffing. She drew back, glaring at her mate. "You've been out with Cudgeon again!"

Chestnut's eyes rolled around. "Yes, but that's beside the point. Lily, we have to move. Now."

Their son, the long-eared pup, skipped around his father. "Did you bring him?"

"Cudgeon?" Chestnut barely glanced at him, still out of breath. "Not this time. We have to go. Immediately."

The pup sat down, gazing up at Chestnut. "Now?"

Lily's eyes widened. "Why, what's wrong?"

"It's the dogcatchers. They've found us."

"Those humans with the nets?" The puppy broke in, obviously eavesdropping.

Lily shushed him, looking at her mate. "I've scented them in the area when I go for food at night--you know, after the Park is closed--but never this far in! I thought we'd be safe here. You said the woods were too deep into the Park's borders for us to be found!"

"I know what I said," Chestnut growled impatiently, looking to the left and right. "Listen to what I'm saying now. Can't you see, we're all in danger!"

Lily's tail tucked. "Where will we go? Further into the forest?"

"No. No, just follow me." Chestnut immediately turned and began jogging through the forest, long, milk-brown legs pumping, paws splayed out, tail straight.

"Come on, little one," Lily bent her head and scooped her son up by the scruff of his neck, not biting too hard, but enough to have a good grip on him.

"Where're we goin'?" the puppy squeaked.

"We're following Daddy," Lily replied, voice muffled by her son's neck-fur.

They loped through the trees, sticking to the shadows. After at least twenty minutes of non-stop running, Chestnut skidded to a halt by a bush.

Lily stopped next to him, sniffing. She was still holding her son. "I smell rain," she murmured worriedly.

"Lemme go!" the puppy squirmed in her jaws. "I c'n do it myself! Urrghh! Urgh!" His scarlet eyes were squeezed shut.

Lily carefully set him down, raising her head to look into Chestnut's eyes. "I smell more than rain," she growled.

Chestnut blinked.

"'Ey, 'ey, 'ey, Ches'nut, my dog!"

The Golden Retriever family swung their heads toward the bush. A large, black pitbull with white paws stepped out of the foliage, stub tail wagging, fur matted.

"Cudgeon?!" Lily gasped. She glared at Chestnut.

"Lily, doll, you're lookin bettah than evah!" Cudgeon smiled a doggie grin, tongue hanging out. His New York slang-accent was just the thing to raise the hair on your neck. One look at this dog and you thought one word: Trouble.

"Yes..." Lily gave Cudgeon a hard, dissaproving stare. She was always polite, but Cudgeon tested her patience in a way no other canine could. "Excuse us for a moment." She nudged her husband to the side, out of the pitbull's earshot. Their son, tripping over his long ears, followed them, bouncing around their paws.

"I thought we agreed you'd never associate with that..." she wrinkled her nose, "...that thief again! He steals from humans with cheap big-eyed looks! He cons puppies into..." she looked down at their son, who was gazing up at them, and left her sentence unfinished.

"I know, I know, and I haven't. Well, not usually. But we need his help, Lillian, and--" Chestnut glanced at Cudgeon over his shoulder. "And he knows where we could be safe. He'll take us there."

"Of all the--" Lily began furiously, tossing her head upward and bringing it back down again, her front paws lifting hardly an inch off the ground as she did so.

"Is that bad?" the puppy asked.

"Is what bad, darling?" Lily asked, rather impatiently. You must remember, they were in a dangerous situation and very worried.

"Lookin' at humans with big eyes."

"Oh," said Lily, smiling weakly, "no, dear. It's why Cudgeon does it is what's wrong."

"What does he do?" The puppy cocked his head, one eyebrow lowering comically.

"He does it to trick the people into giving him the food they need to survive. It isn't right, and no dog should do it. It's called begging, and you must never, ever, beg to humans. Do you understand, puppy?"

"I guess. Yeah." The puppy blinked twice, large red eyes clearing with real understanding.

"'Hey, not t'interrupt, Ches'nut, but is this yer li'l tyke you been tellin' me so much about?" Cudgeon lumbered up, grinning down at the pup.

"Tyke?" the pup stood on all four paws now, refusing to sit and trying to make himself taller. "I'm not a tyke!"

"'Course not, 'course not. 'Ey, it was a compliment, kiddo." Cudgeon glanced from Lily to Chestnut. "No name yet?"

The pup arched a brow.

"Not yet." Lily answered curtly. "Listen, Cudgeon, it's very kind of you to offer to help us, but we really can take care of ourselves."

"Yeah, yeah, Lil', but you don't got the connections I got, y'get what I'm sayin'?" Cudgeon wiggled his eyebrows, but he looked frantic. "I never really been there fer you two, an' now--wit'cher kid an' all--" he scuffed a forepaw. "Look, I know where it's safe. Those slayin' net-carriers won't never find ya there."

Lily exchanged a look with Chestnut. Her eyes flashed. "Well, I suppose..."

"We'll come." Chestnut promised. He pressed his side against Lily's, trying to comfort her wordlessly.

"Hey, great!" Cudgeon grinned, tongue hanging out of his mouth. "Let's get a move on, huh? This way, stick t'the shadows." He began trooping through the woods.

The Golden Retrievers followed him. Chestnut brought up the rear, and Lily was in front of him. She offered to carry her son, but the long-eared pup shook his head wildly and insisted that he could walk on his own. So he was up front, walking next to Cudgeon and pestering him with questions.

"So, kid, how's pickings?" Cudgeon asked.

"What's pickings?" The pup replied.

"It's a thing a great Street Dog ledgend taught the rest of us, somethin' we use t'greet each other."

The pup bounded forward to catch up to the pitbull. "Was it The Tramp?" He asked, eyes sparkling.

"Wuh-ho, nothin' gits past you, champ!" Cudgeon cackled. "Sure was. What's he, some relative 'o yours?" he leaned down as they walked. "I ain't seein' a resemblance."

"Nah," the pup shook his head. "He's my hero!" He grinned, panting.

The sickly cuteness of the puppy made Cudgeon want to vomit--but, if vomiting could be a sign of something good, this would be that type.

"Ver-ry good, fluffy, we all need a hero, don't we?" Cudgeon laughed. "'Ey, uh, watch yer step there, kid."

Too late--the pup tripped on a root and splashed into a puddle. Cudgeon stopped. So did the pup's parents, Chestnut coming over and pulling his son out by the scruff.

The pup wriggled until his father let him go. The young Golden Retriever child sat up and shook his head back and forth, making his ears flap around, water flinging from their tips, a droplet still visible on the end of his nose.

"Urrggggghhh," the pup growled in frustration, showing his teeth.

Cudgeon peered at him, then elbowed Chestnut and let out a husky, hearty laugh. "Hey, hey, Ches'nut, check out th'fangs on that kid!"

Chestnut nodded, forcing a half smile. He looked around, trying to see any dogcatchers. "Yes, he certainly does have some sharp little--" he trailed off, blinking. Then his eyes brightened. He turned to Lily excitedly. "Lily--" he burst out.

"Yes, dear?" Lily was busy scouting their immediate area of the woods. The trees towered over them, mostly pine, but they seemed safe.

"Did you hear what Cudgeon said?" Chestnut nudged his mate's cheek gently with his nose.

"I didn't have the pleasure," Lily said distractedly.

"He said our boy had a nice set of fangs, darling. Fangs!"

Lily finally tore her gaze from her surroundings and stared blankly at her mate. "His what?" Now, normally, she was an extremely intelligent and proper female dog, but she really wasn't paying attention up until now.

"His fangs, Lillian, his fangs. Say! Now wouldn't that be the perfect name for a bonified Street Dog?" Chestnut's tail wagged ferociously.

"It's a bit dark, isn't it, dear?" Lily replied, but she was smiling. "A bit savage?"

"Are we going to spend the rest of his life calling him 'Puppy', Lily?" Chestnut pushed his head against hers, nuzzling her fondly. "After all, darling, he won't be a pup forever."

"No," she said thoughtfully. "No, he won't, you're right." She smiled. Then she lowered her head and brushed her cheek against the pup, licking the top of his now-wet head. "All right. Fang it is then."

"Perfect!" Chestnut barked. He bounced on his paws. "From now on, he'll be called Fang!"

Fang let out a bark, excited by his father's movements. He grinned, tongue hanging out and showing his two sharpest canines--his sharpest fangs.

Lily laughed.

And Cudgeon just looked on, blinking.

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

Chestnut pushed up against Cudgeon, glaring at him. "It's storming. We're in the middle of town. Where are you taking us? When will we get there?"

"Hey, 'ey, 'ey, calm down!" Cudgeon hissed. "It's right aroun' the corner. Geez, y'ferget t'ask fer directions an' they jump all over ya. Give a dog a break!"

What Chestnut said was true; they had been travelling from the Park until they were all over town, then to the outskirts, passing by a chicken farm and a bridge with muddy streets underneath. Now it storming fiercely, thunder, lightning, the works--and they had no shelter! Plus it was nighttime, so there wouldn't be any daylight to warm them up anyway. Wouldn't that make you more than a little irritated?

Behind the two males, Lily was ducking her head against the wind, clutching Fang by his scruff in her jaws, because he had finally announced, in a dignified, authorative way, (and yes, with a whine somewhere inur bucket of details) that he was much too tired to carry on, and had to be picked up. Lily stifled a giggle when she remembered the way he'd said it; the puppy had made it sound like an honor.

"How much farther?" she called angrily up to Cudgeon. She'd had it with this dog.

"Two minutes." Cudgeon shouted backward.

"Ohhhn, that's what you said two minutes ago!" Fang moaned from his mother's jaws.

"Ease up, kid, I'm doin' my best. Ah, here we are!" Cudgeon woofed. They came upon a rundown, old green shack of sorts on the outskirts of town. "We'll be dry here, believe you me."

"Is it safe?" Chestnut asked in his deep voice.

"What do I look like, a newspaper?" Cudgeon chuckled at his own joke. "Yeah, yeah, it's clear, I checked it out earlier. Follow me."

A strange, pushing and cracking sound came from somewhere about a few minutes behind them.

"What was that?" Lily asked nervously.

"Lightning?" Cudgeon suggested. "Hey, y'wanted shelter, I gotcha shelter. Y'wanted safety, here it is! Now come on!"

"If you're sure it's all right." Chestnut jerked his head forward over her shoulder, eyes locked on lily.

The sound came again.

Cudgeon's eyes flashed. "Get inside, quick!"

He bolted forward until he was at the door of the shack. He stood there, letting Lily--carrying Fang--go first through the door and into the shack. Chestnut came next, stopping beside Cudgeon to give him a stare. "Thanks for all your help."

Cudgeon lifted his shoulders, tilting his head. "Hey, don' mention it, pal, it wasn't nothin'."

Chestnut gave him a respective nod, then entered the shack.

It was dark inside. He heard soft noises, like...

"Lil', do you hear that?" Chestnut whispered.

The door was shut behind them.

"Hear what, what do you mean?" Lily, only half-visible in the darkness, shook out her fur of the rainwater. She set Fang down and began licking him.

"Hey, lemme up, I can do it myself!" Fang growled. "Mo-om! Get off, you're making me more wet!"

"That's even more wet, dear," corrected Lily, who always felt the need to correct other dogs' grammer. "And I most certainly am not. I'm licking your fur the wrong way because it gets you dry more rapidly than any other way. Standing around will make you cold and miserable?"

"Yeah, then how come you're standing around?" Fang challenged, ducking away from his mother. "Where are we, Dad, I can't see you!"

"I'm here, son, don't worry." Chestnut let out a long sigh, shaking himself. "Well, at least we're dry and safe."

The sound came again.

Lily sniffed the air. "Chestnut? Do you...(sniff)...smell that?"

"Yes--" Chestnut took a deep breath in through the nose, wrinkling it when he was finished. He let out a soft, low growl. "Something strange. And that sound..."

"Hype hype hmmm hmm hmmmmmm!"

Fang jumped, spinning around and tripping on his too-long ears. "Wha'was'at?" he whimpered.

Lily shook her head, lifting an ear. "Is that..." her eyes widened. "...Whining?"

Chestnut blinked. He raised his head. "Yes. Dogs whining."

Fang let out a loud bark. "Hullo?" He howled. "Hell-lo-o-o?"

It echoed.

"Ssshhh, Fang, sweetheart, not so loud," Lily whispered.

"Is anyone in here?" Chestnut barked. 

No answer. More whimpering. Some howls. Fang crouched by his mother's side, his tiny body trembling with fear as he pressed up, sitting, against her right front leg.

"Please," Lily called in her honey-dipped voice, "We've come to escape the storm. You see, we're in very real danger, and--"

"You ain't gettin' outta here, doll," came a croaky voice from the shadows.

Chestnut let out a growl. "Who are you? What do you want?" he turned in circles. "And how do you plan to stop us from leaving?"

"Oh, it ain't me wants to stop ya," said the scruffy, young voice.

"No?" Lily growled. She stood over Fang, protecting him. "Where are you? Show yourself."

"I'd escape while ya can, doll," continued the voice. "You don't have much time."

"Where are you?" Chestnut snarled again. "Keep talking. We'll find you."

"Name's Toughy, mister...?"

"Chestnut. Hang on, I think..." Chestnut stopped cold. He blinked twice.

Finally he backed away, bumping gently into his mate. He turned around and stared at her, eyes wild. "Lillian. We have to get out of here. We're in the--"

BOOM!

C-CRACK!

Thunder. Lightning.

SLAM!

The door burst open, lightning flashing again to reveal the sillhouette of a human, darkly clad, eyes gleaming, a net in one hand...and a long gun in the other, a hunting gun.

Lily trembled. "No. Oh, no," she whispered.

"He-e-e-ere, doggie doggie," came the human's voice, cold and creepy. "So you're the ones who've been stealing food and biting children. I'll give you a solution you won't be able to ignore." The human crept closer.

Fang shivered uncontrollably. "M-M-Mom? Who--Who's th-that?" his teeth were chattering, paws shaking so badly he had to lean against to to stand.

"Oh please, no," Chestnut murmured, awestruck.

One word came to mind--a name.

Cudgeon.

"They've found you!" Toughy howled from the shadows. "Git out while ya can!"

"How? Why?" Lily backed up, pushing Fang behind her. There was only so much room between her and the back wall now.

"Cudgeon." Chestnut panted. "He did this. If it's the last thing I do, I'll..."

POW!

Chestnut felt an aching pain jolt through his body. He fell to the ground, yelping in agony.

"Chestnut!" screamed Lily, throwing herself at his side.

"Dad? Dad?" Fang pushed his nose into his father's chest fur. He pulled back, smelling blood.

"Run, Fang..." Chestnut gasped. "Take your mother...get out..." His eyelids fluttered, eyes flickering.

"Chestnut, no," Lily wailed. She threw her head back and howled. "Nooo!"

"C'mon, Mom, we gotta run!" Fang head-butted her leg, still shaking with fear.

POW-POW!

With a blood-curdling bark of pain, Lily slumped to the ground beside her mate, eyes closed.

"Mom? Mom?" Fang pushed himself under her foreleg. "Get up, please, please get up! We gotta run! We gotta...run..." he began sobbing, not fully understanding why his parents wouldn't move. "Please get up," he whispered. "Please."
 

"Oh-oh, kid, you bettah move it! Scram, tyke, gitta move on, here 'e comes! Head fer the wrong side o' the tracks! Go! Go!" Toughy's voice, frantic and grieved, barked through the storm sounds and Fang's whimpering.

The human was reloading his gun. "...Teach you t'spread your diseases to innocent children...mangy thief..." he was grumbling.

Other dogs were howling, barking now.

"Run! Run!" came an accented voice. "You not suffer same fate as Boris, puppy, run!" The R's in this dog's voice trilled.

Fang slid out from under his mother's paw, standing, head jerking from side to side.

"Go!" Toughy was shouting. "Scram an' don' evah come back! Quick, now! Get lucky, pup, nobody never escapes th'Pound!"

The Pound? Fang thought, the word numbing his mind.

He looked down again at his parents.

"M-Mom?" he wailed. "Dad! Get up! He's coming! Please, help me! Mom! Dad, run! Please! Please."

"They're gone, sonny, yer th'only one's gonna make it out! GO!" Toughy shrieked.

A dog's head--orange and white, probably Toughy--appeared from in between two bars, taking the human's pant-leg into his teeth and jerking until the man tripped and fell flat on his face, gun sliding across the floor.

"What in the blazes--" the man snapped. "Get off!" he kicked at Toughy, who jerked back and let out with snarls and barks.

Fang, with one last desperate look at his lifeless parents' bodies, turned and bolted for the door.

POW! POW! PO-POW!

The gun went off behind him, the man obviously trying to shoot him in his limping state. Fang didn't hesitate any longer, sliding through the open doorway and out into the dark, stormy night.

The words echoed in his mind, the last words his father had uttered:

Run, Fang, run.

Chapter 2

(4 Months Later...)

CRASH!

*Tinkle Shatter Clink*

A bottle of purple cider splashed and crashed against a brick wall in an alley, shattering into a million glassy pieces.

A man's angry, beet-red face appeared on a resteraunt's doorstep. He ducked back inside, and out of the door, a golden-furred bundle went flying.

"And stay out, you filthy thief!" the man shouted, repositioning his chef's hat.

With a slam of the wooden door, he dissapeared inside the building.

The golden bundle was a kid-aged dog, a Golden Retriever, dripping with purple cider. His eyelids lowered over scarlet eyes, long ears runny with purple juices, he got up and shook himself, scattering the droplets of cider.

Good guess--it was our very own Fang.

"Food was lousy anyways," he grinned. Over the months he had developed a street-slang accent. "I'd give it five stars, but, ah, they didn't serve steak. Heh-heh-heh." He turned and began care-freely trotting down the alley. "Now to find some real lunch."

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

"Arf! RRRrrrr-ar-arf!"

Fang blinked. "Hel-lo-o-o," He went down another alley, following the sound. He poked his head around a fence corner to see the streets. "Whaddo we have 'ere?"

There was a female pup, about his age, maybe a week younger, with crystal-white fur, and multicolored spots, brown, gray, black, tan, orange, and yellow-gold all over her. She had mismatch-colored eyes, one brown, one blue. But she was breathtakingly gorgeous.

The girl puppy was barking at an orange, plain, run-of-the-mill stray cat, making the poor thing cower as it clawed further up a wooden telephone pole. To the female's left, or rather, behind her and to her left, were two bones--two juicy, delicious T-Bones. Fang licked his lips.

The girl dog turned and smiled craftily, looking down at the bones with her tongue hanging out, about to bend down and probably chew on one, then the other.

Fang took a deep breath and ducked back behind the fence. He ran a paw over his always-messy head-fur twice, shook his head to let his ears flap, and posed for a moment. Then he swaggered out from behind the fence.

"Heya, doll, how's pickin's?" Fang trotted up behind the female and stood there.

The girl pup spun around and immediately bristled. "Who're you?" she growled. She had a tomboy voice, and the nastiness in it just then caused the hair on the back of Fang's neck to stand up.

"Uh, name's Fang." He circled her. She never turned her back on him, but turned around in a circle with him, following his gaze to the bones. "An' t'whom do I owe th'pleasure?"

"I'm Afghanna," she snapped. "Now what do you want?"

"Who, me? Simple." He raised his eye brows and locked his gaze on the bones. "You wanna share yer pickings with th'rest of us, doll?"

Afghanna lowered her eyebrows. "Number one, don't call me doll. Two, it's a negative; these bones were too hard to find--and keep--to share them with some slack-jawed," she looked Fang up and down, "wide-eyed pedigreed blonde-fur with an attitude."

Fang nodded, eyes closed. "I totally get it, no worries. I wouldn't wanna share it with that kinda dog either." He opened his eyes, eyelids lowered, and gave her a handsome crooked smile. "But since he ain't here an' I am..."

"Back off, WhatsYourName, or--" Afghanna jerked her head forward, baring her teeth, hackles raised.

"Up-bup-bup," Fang interrupted loudly. "First, the name's Fang, doll. B, I ain't backin' off till you share some T-Bones and we call it square. And three, when we're done, how's about I take you to a place you'll have so many bones, y'won't even care about these."

"Don't call me doll." Afghanna snarled. "And if you have that kinda of place, why not go there instead?"

"You're a bright one." Fang wiggled his eyebrows. "But lemme show ya anyhow. You'll love it there."

"Where is it?" Afghanna asked suspiciously.

Fang lifted a paw, turned it toward him, and studied his claws with lowered eyelids and half-smile on his muzzle. "Fer th'right price, I'll show ya."
 

Afghanna sat down and scratched an ear with her hind leg. "Uh, no thanks. Whatever your little plans are, leave me out of them. Beat it, keep your moves to yourself, and have a nice day."

Fang stood up. He began slowly, very slowly edging away. "Ah well, if that's how y'want it." He shrugged. "Maybe we'll meet up again, sometime, 'uh?"

Afghanna arched a brow. "I have a feeling we won't be spending any time together ever again."

Fang nodded, continuing to edge away. "Yeah, me too. I wouldn't wanna meet up with you when you notice."

"Notice? Notice what?" Afghanna cocked her head, completely baffled.

"Look down." Fang winked and slipped around the corner.

Afghanna jerked her head downward. There, at her paws, was a bone. She breathed a sigh of relief. Whew. That was close. Good thing he didn't steal either one.

She stiffened.

Either one.

One.

One bone.

Wait a minute...

Afghanna sprang on her paws, bolting forward after Fang. "Hey! Hey you! Stop! Come back here!"

Fang cackled softly to himself as he ran, wind blowing his ears and head-fur/hair back, eyes closed with the stolen bone gripped in his mouth. He tossed his head. "Hah-ha!" I love this place.

Speeding up, he skidded, turning a corner. He sat as he skidded, eyes widening. He dropped the bone. "Ah, nuts," he grumbled.

A dead end. Great. A brick wall with trash cans and crates stacked on either side of him faced the Golden Retriever puppy.

Afghanna rounded the same corner, breathing like a locomotive, she was so furious. "That's the last time I get pulled in by some flashy, smooth-talking..." She stopped running, seeing the dead end. She knew she had him now, but...

"Where'd he go?" Afghanna asked herself aloud, jerking her head from left to right.

"That way!" came a mocking voice from above. 

Affy looked up. There he was, on the rooftop of the building before her!

 Fang's eyes were wide, and he jerked his head to the left. "Quick, before he gets away!"

His laughter echoed as he, with the bone in his mouth, dissapeared from sight when he trotted across the roof, care-free.

Afghanna scanned the alley she was in currently, trying to figure out how he'd gotten up there. She leapt onto a crate, then another, a trash can on top of that, and squirmed onto the roof. How he had done it so quickly was beyond her, but she pelted after him. 

"Oooh, catchin' up, are we?" Fang snickered. Afghanna looked across from the building's roof she was one and saw him, bone at his paws, on the roof of the brick building across from hers. He'd obviously jumped.

She got to the edge of her building's roof, then looked down.

"Uh..." Afghanna swallowed hard. High. So very, very high. She was afraid of heights. But she wasn't about to let on, not in front of this pesky fraud of a Street Dog. "Umm..."

"So, doll," Fang yawned and sat down as he called across to her. "You gonna jump, or am I gonna sit here all day?"

Afghanna glared at him, then backed away from the edge. She took another deep breath. "It's okay," she murmured to herself. "You can do this."

"While I'm still young, darlin'," Fang was barking. He scratched at a flea casually by his right ear, making it flap as his hend leg's claws dug into the itch.

"You've got this. You can do it," Afghanna kept muttering, gritting her teeth. She backed up even farther.

"Y'mind if I take a nap?" Fang called. He laid down on the next roof of the building across from hers, stolen bone between his front paws.

"Okay. Okay." Afghanna crouched, then sprang, running as fast as she could, eyes scrunched closed.

Fang lifted his head, lazily watching her.

She got closer to the edge of her building.

Fang sat up.

Afghanna finally reached the end of the building's roof. She leapt, hind paws leaving the edge as she soared toward the edge of Fang's rooftop.

Fang rose to his paws. His eyebrows narrowed. Wait half a minute.

He could see what was coming.

Afghanna's front paws hit the ledge of his roof. She'd made it!

Then the rest of her began slipping, and her heart thrummed a terrorized beat.

She struggled to pull herself up, but she was dangling hopelessly over the edge of the cement-covered alley below. A horse pulling a cart whinned. Wooden tires clattered on the streets to her right, her front paws scrabbling for a foothold on the rooftop she clung to.

Then her paws slipped in frenzy of horrific movement, making her plummet helplessly toward the hard pavement underneath her.

Afghanna didn't cry out. She couldn't. She couldn't find the sound, her heart clogging her throat as she hurtled toward the cement.

Then she stopped falling. Something had her extra neck fur, her scruff, and wasn't letting go. She dangled in thin air.

"Aht-id-oo-eet-oo-day?" came a garbled, street-accented voice somewhere above her head.

Afghanna twisted to look up at her rescuer. A pair of scarlet eyes met hers, one of them squinted tightly, and the corner of someone's mouth was open, a set of extremely-long and sharp fangs clenched visibly inside.

"You!" Afghanna cried gratefully. You must remember, she had only met him about 20 minutes ago, so his name escaped her. Names will do that when you're plummeting to certain death.

"Esh. Nee." Fang replied, still garbled with her scruff fur in his mouth.

He slowly pulled himself backward, dragging her up onto the roof with him. She lay there, safe, panting, and turned to look at him.

"You...saved me..." she gasped for breath. "Thanks."

Fang wasn't listening; he was too busy trying to collect his dignity. "What I meant t'say back there was, what'd you eat today?"

Afghanna dropped her gaze, locking it on the bone at his paws. "Thanks t'you, not much." She immediately regretted saying it. Best not to be rude to the dog who'd saved her life. "Sorry, I didn't mean that." She stood up and shook herself. "Thanks again. Why'd you do it?"

Fang looked baffled for a moment. "Well, why wouldn't I do it? 'Ey, you was in trouble, doll," He shrugged. "Wha'was I s'posed t'do, letcha fall?" He grinned evilly. "Who'd chase me fer this ratty thing?" He rolled the bone toward her with his nose.

Afghanna stared at him. "Wai'wai'wait. You actually enjoyed that?"

He gave her a crooked smile, eyelids proudly lowered.

"What kinda Street Dog are you?" Afghanna laughed.

"Not much, just the best there ever was," Fang wiggled his eyebrows. "Or ever will be."

"Uh, nice try, but everybody knows The Tramp tops all Street Dogs, past, present, or future." Afghanna raised her eyebrows.

Fang's eyes brightened. "Yeah, well, not fer long."

"Look, let's start over. We got off on the wrong paw." She grinned. "I'm Afghanna."

He dipped his head. "Fang. So," he smirked. "How 'bout that cool place?"

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


 

"The Park? This is your 'cool place'?" Afghanna groaned.

They were at the front gate to the Park. Fang hadn't been here in a long, long, long time, about three months and a half. And that brought back too many blurry, fast-paced, hard-to-remember memories.

"Don't knock it till ya try it, Affy," Fang winked. 

Afghanna's head reared back, and she cocked it, one eye squinting. "Affy?" she asked, baffled. "What kind of pet name is that?"

"Terdollface, the works." Fang grinned. He sprang up onto the brick wall--the one with cement on the top. "How d'ya feel about it?"

m of endearment, "You want the truth?" Afghanna arched a brow.

Fang blinked.

"Hate it." Afghanna leapt up beside him, and pushed her nose into his face. "Don't ever call me that. Again."

"Touch-y." Fang muttered. "A'ight, Afghanna, this way."

He jumped down from the other side of the wall, into the Park. "It's closed, so we ain't gonna be meetin' anybody here. Follow me--this'll be great."

"Lead the way, Romeo," Afghanna's eyelids lowered, and a teasing crooked smile appeared on her muzzle. She was obviously amused.

"With pleasure." Fang began traipsing through the Park, but his paws trembled as he did so. Things flashed in his mind--a stormy sky, clouds closing together, a snout nudging him from behind, a sweet voice, frantic with worry, urging him along.

He shook his head. "Uh..." he bounded ahead, skidding to a stop at the edge of the lake, which was over the hill they'd just crossed. "Check this out!" he ran around the lake a bit until he came to a bridge, the sun turning his golden fur firefly-yellow.

Afghanna arched a brow, eyes circles, and followed her new companion, puzzled by his antics. She stood by him on the bridge as they poked their heads in between the railing.

"See those?" Fang panted.

{As an author's note, you must remember that Fang is not the age you believe him to be. He is hardly more than a child now, a puppy still, but grown more. (Think 9-Year-Old human, but as a dog. Wily, isn't he, for his age?)}

Afghanna looked down into the water. Two ducks floated by, crossing underneath the bridge.

"Watch," Fang said, and winked. He turned around and jumped forward, skidding on his rear end, front paws skidding on the red-wood bridge's flooring.

Afghanna lifted one ear, cocking her head. "What're--"

She was drowned out by a barrage of puppified-barking. Fang's eyes were squeezed shut, a calm-and-collected grin on his muzzle, like he had everything under control, as he barked as loudly as he could.

The ducks, seven or eight of them, all identical, immediately took half-flight, as only ducks will do, and flapped as hard as they were able. The result was a splash of water, but that wasn't where it ended as the birds honked off into the distance. Fang didn't seem satisfied as the water careening into the air just up to the bridge's rim barely missed Afghanna's paws. In fact, he didn't seem finished at all.

Afghanna contented herself with watching him steadily.

The next thing she knew, Fang was nudging a large boulder into the water.

"Duck!" he cried, and flung himself onto the red-wooden boards of the bridge.

Afghanna copied him, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Hey, keep yer eyes open, doll, you're missin' it!"

Afghanna opened her eyes and gasped. "Woah!"

A sparkling sheet of water rose from the river, so glittering clear that she could see her reflection in it, a dripping water-mirror.

She stood and leapt to the edge of the bridge, watching as the wall of water splashed back into the river, molding into the current.

"How'd you learn to do that?" Afghanna gasped to Fang.

"Couple things I picked up." Fang blinked.

"How?" Afghanna demanded, tail wagging.

"From a friend," Fang mumbled. He looked away. He gave a half-chuckle, swallowed, and gazed into the distance.

____________________________________________________________

FLASHBACK:

 

"Brrrr..." Little Fang stumbled through the streets, rain pelting his fur. It hadn't stopped raining for weeks, on and off, clouds never leaving the sky, since that horrible night, the last time he saw his parents.

The poor puppy was teething, and when a pup with teeth as sharp and unusually-large as his teethed, you'd better hide your valuables.

But Fang wasn't thinking about that. The puppy had nightmares now, every night. He wanted his mother's warmth beside him as he slept in cardboard boxes. When he was hungry, he wanted his father's chuckle, with a raw steak to bring home in his jaws when Fang's belly so much as gurgled. He wanted to play in the sunshine of the Park, his home. He wanted to be told "Not to go too far". He wanted someone to call him "dear" again, his father to nuzzle him and teach him how to hold his head high, because he was "A Street Dog, and that's something to be proud of, son". Fang wanted his mother's laugh, to feel the wind in his fur as he raced his dad across the lake, over that red, wooden bridge he always tripped over his ears on.

Fang stumbled, sliding paws-first into a fat, muddy puddle. He sat up.

A horse-drawn carriage was rambling toward him, full-speed.

Fang staggered to his paws, hungry and weak, not having a decent meal for a month. His eyes widened as the horse and wood-wheels advanced on him. "Help!" he cried out, howling. "Help me!"
 

A ball of white fur rammed into him, rolling him onto the sidewalk. Fang and his rescuer didn't stop rolling until they slammed into a wooden fence at the end of an alley.

The two creatures broke apart. Fang gasped for breath, heart pounding, and sat up, shaking his long ears.

A white, scruffy, mangy-looking teenage-dog stood in front of him, lightning lighting his fur up, revealing brown spots covering his white coat. A mohawk of fur on his head and gleaming yellow eyes caught Fang's attention.

"What were you thinking?" the teenage mutt barked out, shaking his fur from the wet, as if it would do any good.

Fang's eyes were the size of two moons, and he swallowed. "U-Uh..."

"Don't you know how dangerous it is in the middle o'the street?" The mutt snarled.

Fang gulped. "Um...uh...s-s-sorry..."

The mutt sighed. "Never mind. Look, kid, ain't you got any parents?"

Fang stood up indignantly, flinging his head upward, angry, eyes locking with the newcomer's as he said loudly, "No!" He sat down again. 

"You ain't got any folks?" The mutt looked surprised, somewhat sympathetic.

Fang wrinkled his little brown nose, eyes screwing up as he crossed them. "No," he repeated. "I..." he cocked his head. "Uh...ain't." Ain't. The word sounded foreign on his tongue. But it felt good. Maybe he'd use it more.

"You're all alone, huh." The mutt blinked and stared at Fang a long time. His eyes flashed. "Name's Mutton, kid. What's your handle?"

"Handle?" Fang tilted his head, looking so adorable it made Mutton lift his lower eyelid of his left eye in disgust.

"Name, name, your name!" Mutton growled irritably.

"Oh. I'm Fang." The Golden Retriever puppy scratched at his right ear with his right hind leg, making his ear flap and drip with the rain that poured down on them in the lonely little alley.

"Here's a tip, junior, don't wander into the streets, alright?" Mutton shook his fur again. "It gets ugly. You don't wanna be roadkill, believe you me."

"Roadkill?" Fang blinked several times, confused.

"Boy, you've gotta lot t'learn about being a Street Dog, huh, kid?" Mutton rolled his eyes.

"Teach me," Fang demanded. He stood up and puffed out his chest. "I can learn."

"Look, I got bigger things to worry about. I can't be watchin' you all the time." Mutton curled his lip and turned to leave.

"Teach me!" Fang commanded again, running forward and blocking Mutton's path. "I'm not like other dogs. I-I'll listen, honest!"

Mutton looked down at him. "Sorry, What's-Your-Face, I can't--"

"Fang," Fang said.

"Huh?"

"The name's Fang." Fang arched an eyebrow, indignant now.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Mutton pushed past Fang, shoving him backwards with a hind paw. "I can't take care of you, I gotta take care of Number One."

"Who's Number One?" Fang got up, and stepped into the teen-mutt's path again.

Mutton gave him a wolfish grin. "Me."

"That's dumb!" Fang scoffed. "If you're too busy lookin' out for number one, who's gonna look out for them?"

"Them?" Mutton cocked his head.

"Them! Other dogs!" Fang sat down and explained patiently, as if he were the teenager and Mutton was the wet-behind-the-ear puppy. "I saw this oldie yesterday, all gray and limpin', and--"

"Save the sorrow-story, muttfuzz, I ain't moving."

"Well, if y'go, I'm gonna follow you!" Fang dragged out the F in 'follow' babyishly. He gave a half-smile, eyelids lowered triumphantly, and arched a brow, saying, "And I 'ain't' gonna quit."

Mutton grinned devilishly. "You got moxy, kid, that's good in a Street Dog." He sighed. "Alright, first thing's first, let's get you some food. Then we'll talk."

Fang followed as he tottered down the alley. "Great!"

FLASHBACK ENDS

___________________________________________________________

Fang shook himself out of the flashback-daze.

The last time he'd seen his faithful old friend, Mutton, the white-and-brown mutt had fallen into this same lake, when it had stormed so badly, little, baby Fang looked down as his dear friend had shoved Fang out of the way when a tidal-wave of muddy water washed over the bridge in the stormy weather, dragging Mutton down into the depths of the brown-black raging tide, meeting his fate in rushing rapids. Fang had howled into the night in memory of his lost tutor, the teen-dog that had taken care of him for two months straight, teaching him the ropes of being an honorable Street Dog, even teaching him how to talk like one.

How, you may ask, could one dog take so much heartache? He could barely remember his parents now, but Mutton's death was still an open wound in his heart. He couldn't bare to even mention Mutton's name without turning cryptically silent.

 "Did you hear that?" Afghanna suddenly cried.

"Hear wha--" Fang began, then turned at a barrage of furious growling.

"Hey!" came a scratchy, deep young voice. A pair of green eyes was glaring at them.

He was a Yellow Lab puppy, a bit younger than the two other dogs, with messy hair-fur and a cream belly. He was breathing like a locomotive, one eyebrow raised, teeth bared. He was also soaked, fur dripping.

"How's pickings, shorty?" Fang smirked.

The new pup stalked right up to him and stuck his nose in Fang's face. "Don't you know what you just did?"

"I gotta tell ya," Fang reared his head back, "that bath y'took didn't help." He nodded toward the pup's dripping fur, teasing him mercilessly. Fang's nose wrinkled at the smell.

"Shut up!" the dog growled.

"Hey, there's no need to get loud over this," Afghanna snapped, pushing between them. She glared at the newcomer. "Who are you and what are you talking about, if y'don't mind?"

The dog looked her up and down, green eyes softening only a little bit. "They call me Skipper--"

"Who does?" Fang whispered out of the corner of his mouth to Afghanna. "He ain't the friendly type, if y'get my drift."

"Shut. Up!" Skipper snarled.

"How about you take a hike, small fry?" Fang barged forward, shouldering Afghanna out of the way, angry with the younger dog for ruining his good mood.

"Both of you be quiet!" Afghanna barked. She turned to Skipper. "I'm still not clear on why you're here, pal."

"Because this knucklehead just soaked me when I was this close to catching a fish." Skipper growled.

"You can catch fish?" Afghanna snorted disbelievingly.

"And climb trees," Skipper replied smugly.

"So you're a cat, is that what yer sayin'?" Fang interrupted, smiling mockingly at Skipper with his eyelids lowered.

Skipper let out another low growl. "Don't push your luck, dude. This is my home, and you're trespassing, so whatever it is you're doing, back off."

"You musta been a real pleasure to take care of," Fang muttered. "Wher're yer 'rents?"

"Gone." Skipper answered curtly, deep voice vibrating.

"Look, Skipper--can I call ya Skip?" Fang didn't wait for an answer. "If this's anyone's home--" he stopped. He didn't need to go there. It hurt too much. He decided to try again. "We'll leave when we're good an' ready."

"Not if I can help it," Skip snapped.

"Y'can't." Fang shrugged. "So I suggest y'join in."

He turned to the bridge's edge and poked his head between the two rods that went from one end, making faces into the water.

Afghanna went to his side, and then looked into the river at his reflection. She laughed and stuck out her tongue, crossing her eyes, making her reflection do the same.

"What're you doing?" Skip asked, drawing his head back, mouth closed and curved downward, one eye squinting, one eyebrow arched.

"Come see fer yerself," Fang invited, still looking at his reflection as he smoothed his hair-fur back with a paw, eyelids lowered, crookedly smiling at his reflection as though comically checking his looks in a watery mirror.

"If this is some trick--" Skip began angrily, storming over and pushing his head through the wooden bars, looking down into the water. "Wha..." he stopped. He spluttered. Then he pulled his head back out through the bars and reared back in the middle of the bridge, head tilted skyward, cackling:
 

"You look like a racoon!" he laughed.

Fang looked over his shoulder at him, one eyebrow arched, eyelids lowered, squinting one eye and smiling. "Yeah, she's pretty scary, ain't she?" He elbowed Afghanna.

"Hey!" Afghanna shoved him. "You're the scary one. Look at those ears!"

"Ch'yeah," Skip snickered. "Surprised y'don't trip over 'em."

"Well, I'm surprised y'can see with eyes like that!" Fang shot back, laughing with them. "What'd they do, feed y'grass when you were a baby?" he chortled.

Skip's eyebrows lowered and he stopped laughing.

Afghanna nudged him. "Well, how about your eyes?" she defended the Lab. She giggled. "You look half-crazy with red eyes like those!"

"Yer one t'talk, dollface," Fang chuckled. "One brown an' one blue? It's like mismatchin' socks!"

"Now hold on a minute--" Afghanna said, but she was laughing too hard.

"What's your names?" Skip suddenly asked. He almost looked shy.

"I'm Afghanna." Afghanna sat down and gnawed at a flea on her shoulder.

"What about you?" Skip gave a pointy look at Fang. He wasn't smiling anymore, but at least he wasn't frowning either.

"I'll give ya a hint." Fang bared his teeth.

Skip cocked his head. "Uh..."

"No? Okay, how's this?" Fang growled as he displayed his teeth, biting at the air.

Skip lowered his eyelids and raised his eyebrows.

"What do I gotta do, bite you to get you to--" Fang stopped. A slow smile spread across his face.

"Wait a minute, now, don't--" Skip lowered his eyebrows and resumed his signature scowl, backing away as Fang crept toward him.

Afghanna, at his side, elbowed him. "His name's Fang." She muttered, grinning. "Run!"

The three puppies chased each other through the Park for the rest of the day.

And Fang thought that perhaps, after all he'd lost, maybe this wasn't so bad after all. He had two new best friends, even if one was a tomboy and the other was a stick in the mud. They went together. After a while, he began to refer to them as his "gang" which they greatly dissaproved of, even though they knew it wouldn't do any good to tell him so. Fang had lost enough already. This may work out, he decided.

Chapter 3

(One Month Later...)

 On the streets of what all the Strays liked to call "Snob Hill", a lovely little house with a little yard and a little white fence stood, repainted white from its previous brown-wood, and if you stood at its gate, you could hear a high-pitched bark.

"Rosemary, you get back in that tub this instant, young lady!" An orange-and-cream female dog, a mutt, but extremely pretty, trotted out of the kitchen. She had on a white collar, and her eyes were the color of wheat.

A small puppy, a girl, a picture of her mother but undoubtedly prettier, drop-dead gorgeous, scampered down the hall. "I don't wanna take a bath, Mother!"

"You've caused my owners enough trouble today, Rosemary, and I'll see to it you get a good tongue-lashing for this. Back into the tub!" The Mother dog, Sasha, growled.

"Mother, I hate it when you call me Rosemary." The pup pleaded, brilliant-blue eyes matching her light-blue collar. She sat down on the rug and looked up at her mother. "Just Rose, okay? Please?"

"Where do you get off, young lady, telling me what to call you? You just get right back into the bathtub and stay there until you've been properly washed!" Sasha snapped.

"Moth-er!" Rose whined. "I'm spotless! I don't need another stupid bath! Can I please go outside? Please?"

Her mother gave in with a sigh. "Fine. But do not, I repeat, do not get yourself dirty. If I find so much as a leaf in your fur--"

"Yes, Mother, I know." Rose sighed. "Back into the tub."

"Precisley." Sasha nudged her daughter from behind with her nose. "Now run along and play, and try to stay out of mischief."

"Yes ma'am!" Rose called as she stuck her head out the doggie door.

She immediately began prancing through the grass of the yard, paws lightly denting the greenery.

"Yes ma'am!" mimicked a voice from behind her, by the fence. The voice was too high-pitched, but only teasingly.

Rose turned around. There, in her yard, by her gate, was a sight that nearly sent her trembling at the paws.

A strong-looking Golden Retriever male puppy sat there, no collar, fur handsomely ungroomed, eyelids lowered, the sun striking his fur so that he looked almost lemon-colored. His red eyes blazed like fire, his crooked grin making her heart melt.

"Um..." Rose swallowed, blushing. He was so cool, so collected! "Um, hi," she said again.

"How's pickin's?" The Golden Retriever said, not looking at her. He trotted around the yard like he owned the place, strolling up to her water bowl on the porch. He sniffed it, said, "Ugh!" and swaggered over to a puddle, grinning at it, and lapped some of the muddy water up.

Rose guessed that his question meant, How are you?, so she said politely, "I'm fine, thank you very much, and you?" She blinked slowly. Her head was misty, heart pounding. Something about this dog made her fur tingle.

The Golden Retriever finally looked up, raising his head, and stared at her. "Huh?"

"Well, I was just--"

"Yeah, yeah," the Retriever nodded, eyes half-closed, and trotted around the yard again, sniffing. He snorted. "You always talk like that, princess?"

Rose felt taken aback. "Uh, well, no, but..." she straightened. "Just being polite. I'm Rose. May I ask your name?"

He gave one snort-laugh. "Heh." He cocked his head at her, still looking handsome with the sun on his fur, and said dramatically, "Call me Fang, princess. Nice spread y'got here."

"Uhmm, thank you." Rose replied, blinking into the distance, baffled by his strange speech. "I don't want to be rude--"

"Oh no, we can't have that," Fang sneered.

Rose blushed even harder. "--But what is it you're doing here?"

"Here?" he asked, as if she were crazy.

"Yes. Here. In...my yard?" Rose prompted. She glanced toward the window to see if anyone was watching.

"Just wanted to see what th'noise was about, no biggie," Fang shrugged, not looking at her. He seemed to be avoiding attention to her, hardly realizing he was doing it.

"What noise?" Rose asked.

"Barkin'. Arguin'. That you an' yer ol' lady in there, makin' all the racket?" Fang asked, sniffing at the bottom of the fence. He caught a trace of perfume and sneezed.

"My Mother? Yeah." Rose shrugged, trying hard not to be embarrassed.

"What was she howlin' about?" Fang asked, but it sounded as if he really didn't care one way or the other.

"I didn't want to take a bath." Rose answered modestly.

Fang's head came up and he drilled her with his eyes. She practically melted. "You didn't wanna take a bath?"

"No way!" Rose shook her head hard. "I hate baths."

"You?" Fang asked, snorting disbelievingly. "You're a House Pet, princess, yer s'posed t'love baths!"

Rose shrugged. "Well, I don't."

Fang looked at her a long time more. "You gut guts, princess. I ain't heard of any other House Dog that didn't wanna be perfumed and puffed all their lives."

"Really?" Rose asked.

"You got what it takes t'be a Street Dog."

"A Street Dog?" Rose squealed, bouncing on her paws. This was too exciting! Here was the dog of her dreams, cool and sly, telling her she had what it took to be one of his kind!

"Is there an echo out here?" Fang muttered. He tuned his attention back in to Rose. "Listen, powderpuff, if you think you got the moves, y'can break out and try runnin' leash-free with the big dogs. Look me up."

Fang winked and trotted over to the short white fence. He crouched, then backflipped over it, twisting all the way around in midair, landing on his paws on the other side, strutting down the sidewalk like the king of the streets.

Rose hurried after him, poking her head through an opening in the gate of the fence. "Wait! Where are you going?"

"T'meet up with the gang." Fang called over his shoulder as he bobbed to an unheard beat down the sidewalk, barely glancing backward at her. "Oh, an' if y'wanna hang with my crowd," he paused, arching a brow as he looked over his shoulder at her. "Lose the collar."

Rose glanced down at the blue collar around her neck. That voice, those eyes, the way he acted, like he had his whole life in the bag and accounted for! Yes, she wanted to be free of this boring life and run free with Fang, but what about her mother? What would she say?

Now, you can't change the mind of a dog in love. Rose was dead-set on leaving home and following Fang around, desperate for his attention. And had her mother ever really cared? No. She cared about herself, and how Rose looked (probably because if Rose was ever anything but perfect-looking, it would make her mother look bad). What was there to think about?

Rose pushed with her hind paws on the back of her collar, and it slipped off her neck. That's better.

She pulled the front half of her body through an opening in the little white fence. "Goodbye leash," she grunted. She pulled the rest of her body out of the yard, through the fence, and into the open streets. "Hello freedom!"

Chapter 4

(Two Months Later...)

"If I ever see any tomato sauce again, it'll be too soon," Afghanna groaned.

Fang and his gang, including the newly-added Rose, were splayed out in the alley behind Tony's Italian Resteraunt, stomachs full, and moaning up a storm as the moon shone above them.

"If I ever smell any spaghetti, I'm gonna curl up and die," Skip joked back, eyebrows lowered in that some old frown he always wore.

Fang burped loudly behind him.

Skip squeezed his eyes shut, taking one whiff and wrinkling his nose. "Augh, Fa-ang!"

Fang came right up to the Lab, pushed his nose against Skip's, closed one eye and opened the other as wide as he could. He stared, eyeball increasing, right into Skip's face. "Hmmm," he said. "Still breathing..."

"He isn't dying anytime soon, Fang," Afghanna grinned bluntly.

"Aaww!" Fang moaned, throwing his head back and closing both eyes, eyebrows falling in the middle and the tips pointing upward. "I was so hopin'!"

Rose giggled.

"Come on, guys, let's--" Skip began.

Afghanna gasped suddenly.

"What's up?" Rose asked, trotting to Affy's side and following her gaze to the entrance to the alley.

"Don't you hear that?" Afghanna exclaimed. "Some dog's in trouble!"

Fang grew serious. He and Skip joined the two girls, flanking them.

"Where's it at?" Skip asked.

"Around the corner, I think," Afghanna murmured.

Fang sniffed the air. His heart nearly stopped. He dug his claws into the stone-path. His eyebrows lowered. He bared his teeth.

The next thing the gang knew, Fang was gone, charging around the corner, paws flying, ears flapping, tail tucked.

"We gotta help him!" Afghanna nudged her friends. They all took off after their leader, confused.

They fell in behind Fang as he raced toward the sounds of whimpering and barking and growling. Finally, the gang turned a corner into another alley, one blocked with a fence at the end, a dead-end.

A scruffy-looking mutt, grayish with long, darker-gray ears and thick eyebrows--and old-timer (Some of you know him as Sparky), was being cornered by a dog that seemed almost his age, perhaps younger.

Suddenly thunder boomed, and lightning lit the sky, revealing who it was.

Fang stopped, sliding around the corner, halting in a furious pose at the entrance to the alley. Rain poured down. His gang stood behind him, huddled but looking bolder by the minute.

Fang's heart leapt to his throat as the dog turned around.

Its eyes were pulsingly red-rimmed. It was black with white paws. A smushed-in face, wrinkled.

"Cudgeon!" Fang breathed like a mad bull, growling loudly.

The pitbull turned around, his breaths ragged, limping on one side of his body, a tooth jutting out from his lower jaw, his mouth open in a crazy grin.

"Who wants t'know?" the aging dog grinned as if insane.

"This mutt's got some serious mental issues," Skip muttered to Rose, who nodded.

"Fang?" Afghanna asked worriedly.

Fang's mind was in another place. All he could focus on was Cudgeon.

Cudgeon's one good eye squinted for a moment, then lit dimly with recognition. "I know you," he breathed raggedly. "Yer th'whelp. Ches'nut's tyke." Cudgeon rolled his shoulders. "I thought y'were long-dead, sonny boy," his voice was quiet, a rumble that would send chills down your spine.

"I'm pretty hard t'kill," Fang growled, voice hard, barely any emotion in the words. His gaze was held fast on Cudgeon.

"Yeah?" Cudgeon laughed a bellowing, raspy laugh. Foam bubbled at his muzzle.

"Fang," Rose whispered at his side, trembling but trying not to, "That dog has rabies."

"He's gonna have more than that when I get done with 'im," Fang breathed, voice low and furious.

"C'mere, little tyke," Cudgeon lumbered slowly toward them still limping, eyes glowing in the dark rain. "C'mere t'me, whelp, just a bit closer." He gave them another there-isn't-any-lights-on-upstairs grin. "Come find out what this fever feels like," he cackled roughly.

"Why did you do it?" Fang snarled, and he and Cudgeon began to circle around each other.

"Fang!" Rose exclaimed, shocked he would get so close. "He'll give you--"

"Shut up!" Fang snapped at her. He turned back to Cudgeon. "My 'rents're dead 'cuz o'you. Wanna tell me why, garbage breath?"

"Ihhahahahahahahahahaah!" Cudgeon laughed, sounding quite insane. More foam bubbled at his mouth. "Had t'do it, whelp, hadda kill 'em off!" he gave another crazy laugh. "One by one, kid, one by one! See, they thought I was one of them honorable strays!" He cackled. "I ain't about t'take the rap for the things I done! Bit a coupla kids, stole some food--" His eyes flashed crazily. "Gave some o' those lucky li'l House Pets this headache I got--an' a bunch more stuff along with it!" he panted, still cackling at every breath. Rose crouched next to Afghanna, afraid. Cudgeon went on. "Like this here stuff in my mouth!" he shook his head, making foam fly. "Come a li'l closer, you'll be bubblin' too!"

"Run, Fang!" Afghanna cried.

Fang ignored her. "You blamed them for what you did?" He jerked his head back. "Y'let the dogcatchers think they did all that stuff?" He bared his fangs. "That's sick!"

"I'm one sick pooch, kid," the pitbull snarled. His now-red eyes flashed.

Then he lunged.

Fang dodged him. "Get outta here!" he shouted to his faithful gang. "Scram, this's my fight!"

"Fang, you have no idea what rabies are like! You don't want to risk getting it!" Rose called out.

"How would you know?" Skip asked dryly.

Afghanna shot him a look. This wasn't the time.

Fang dodged Cudgeon some more. "Just leave! I ain't gettin' you all involved in this!"

"Who said you were in charge?" Afghanna shot back. She looked at Skip and Rose. "C'mon, guys, follow me!"

She leapt up a few crates and onto the building to the left's roof. "Pass me up that basket, Skip!" She called to where Skip and Rose stood on a crate just below her, rain pelting their fur.

Fang flung himself to the left, Cudgeon barely missing him with foaming, snapping jaws.

"Rose, Skip, you guys push this trash over the edge--aim for Cudgeon, not Fang! I'll be back." Afghanna snapped.

The two other pups did as they were told. Cudgeon didn't seem to mind the falling debris crashing onto him; it didn't faze him. He continued to bark loudly and lunge for Fang.

"Gettin' old, are we?" Fang snarled as he dodged the rabid pitbull.

"Shut up, whelp!" Cudgeon answered heavily, bolting for the pup again. Fang dodged. He nipped Cudgeon's paw, then darted a few feet away from him again. Cudgeon roared and howled and snapped at him again. Fang dodged.

BEEP BEEP!

Suddenly Afghanna appeared.

With a dogcatcher right behind her.

Fang realized her plan and ducked out of sight. It occured to him that he hadn't checked on Sparky since they'd arrived in the alley. He looked to the spot where the old dog had been. He wasn't there. At least he'd gotten away in time.

The dogcatcher had caught Cudgeon by the time Fang realized what was happening.

Staring at the pitbull through the cage door of the back of his truck, the dogcatcher rubbed his chin. "You're the rabid mutt we've been after, eh? Well, I think you'll find the pound very comfy, big fella." He whistled as he hopped back into the truck and drove away.

"Fang!" Rose squealed. She, Affy, and Skip were at his side. "You were so amazing!"

"Yeah, I know," Fang shrugged pridefully.

"What was that all about, anyway? Who was that?" Skip asked, curious.

"Such a long story, so little time t'tell it," Fang rolled his eyes. "Let's just get home, okay? The Park, by that old bush I showed ya? Deal?"

"I'm there." Afghanna nodded.

"Okay, sure," Rose bounced on her paws.

"I'm in." Skip grunted.

"Catcha later." Fang dipped his head to his gang.

"If you're sure you're okay..." Afghanna muttered as the gang walked away.

"When 'ave I ever been otherwise, Affy?" Fang teased.

When they left, he relished the rain on his pelt. Raining. Like so many nights and days and months before, when he'd lost the two most important dogs in his life. He wished he could have spent more of his days with them.

But then he wouldn't have had his gang. Yeah, Fang decided. It was okay how it was.

But he wouldn't forget his parents.

"Ah well," Fang sighed to himself, trotting along the streets. "Live an' let live."

So the King of the Streets returned to his gang, his Park, his home under that little bush in the sunshine and forests.