Chapter 4
"Pst! Skip!" Fang trotted across the lawn of Lady and Tramp's backyard, keeping his eye on Angel and Scamp as he sidled past them, long golden ears never moving even as he walked.
The yellow labrador puppy Skip turned to his Golden Retriever frind, scowling like always.
"C'mere a minute," Fang hissed, picking up a paw and holding it to the right a bit. "And hurry."
Skip rose to his paws and padded over, scratching at a flea. "Yeah, what?" he growled.
"Keep it down, boso," Fang muttered. "Get Affy, too. We gotta talk. Meet me under the front porch of this dump, got it?"
"Check." Skip rolled his very-green eyes and turned towards the female African shepherd puppy chatting with Danielle--one of Lady's Cocker Spaniel triplet daughters, the one with the white collar.
Skip stopped walking and turned to sneer at Fang over his shoulder. "Want me to tell her you called her 'Affy?'"
Fang didn't wince on the outside, but he was certainly doing so on the inside. "Nah, that's okay."
"You sure?" Skip smirked.
"Just get Afghanna, Skip, and never mind the wise cracks!" Fang barked. Skip set off.
Lady and Tramp looked up from their sunbathing by the flower bed.
Fang grinned sheepishly, trying to let them know nothing was out of the ordinary. He seethed inwardly. You couldn't find good help these days, could you?
He sat down and gnawed at an itch on his right shoulder for a bit, watching Angel and Scamp talk and laugh a few feet away. A growl rose in his throat. After today, Scamp wouldn't be spending a second with Angel. The pomeranian would have eyes only for Fang when the plan was in motion.
Fang finally trotted around to the front of the house and scotted underneath the porch, squeezing one eye closed and showing his teeth out of the corner of his mouth, staring up with one open red eye at the spiderwebs above him. He had to lay down; there was room underneath the porch to sit up properly.
Finally Afghanna and Skip arrived. Skip crawled under first. Afghanna shook her ears and scooted underneath the porch beside Fang with a disgusted look in her mismatched, one-brown-one-blue eyes.
"That House Dog Danielle can talk!" Afghanna grunted. "Thanks for calling your little 'meeting', Fang, or I'd be there all day."
"Yeah," Skip agreed, snorting. "Why are we here, anyway?"
"Simple." Fang grinned at them and dropped his eyelids halfway. "I got a plan."
"I'm out," Afghanna immediately began crawling for the exit.
Fang stopped her with a paw on her tail. "Hang on a second, Affy, you ain't even heard it yet!"
He flinched, knowing he'd said the wrong thing.
Too late.
Afghanna scooted her body around to poke her black, pointed nose against his brown one and growl, "Say that again?"
"You know what I mean," Fang muttered.
"What's my name? Say it!"
"Afghanna," mumbled Fang.
"What was that?"
"Afghanna, Afghanna!" Fang barked in her face, using his own nose to shove hers away. "Get that thing outta my face before somebody trips on it."
Afghanna settled back with her forepaws in front of her, satisfied. "Give the puppy a bone. Whaddaya know, Skip, he got it right."
Skip grinned wickedly at her, enjoying Fang's uncomfortable expression.
"As I was saying," Fang continued, exasperated, "I've got a plan."
"Ugh," Afghanna scoffed and rolled her mismatched eyes. "Everytime you've got a plan, my muzzle gets three more white hairs--and I'm just a pup!"
Skip, who was a month or two younger, looked confused. "But all of your fur is white. Well, except for the spots."
Afghanna's coat was dappled with many multicolored spots, tan, brown, gray, gold, yellow, and black. The the rest of her was white, including her muzzle. But her tail and fluffy, circular ears were spotted.
"Can we stick to the subject?" Fang cut in.
"What subject? Your big plan?" Afghanna rested her head on her front paws. "Gimme a break, Fang, we all know it won't work. Whatever it is."
Fang glared at her. "Says you!"
"Then what is it?" Skip arched an eyebrow. "And it better be good. I could do with a fresh bone right about now. So if your plan's a dud, I'm grabbing one of the T-bones in that house pet bowl of theirs and headin' out."
Fang would've agreed with Skip on normal terms, but this wasn't a normal situation. But these weren't normal terms. "Okay, here's the plan."
Skip and Afghanna leaned in close as Fang whispered it. Afghanna nodded when he was finished. Skip grunted and said it was the smartest one Fang had ever come up with--and that was saying something.
"Alright, you two," Fang crawled out from under the porch. His friends followed. "You know what to do, right?"
Skip grumbled a 'yes'. He hadn't been particularly happy with his part of the plan before, but since when was he happy about anything?
"Good. Great. Affy?" Fang turned to her.
Afghanna, for his sake, ignored the fact that he had improperly used her name once again. She gave one, tiny nod of the head and trotted across the grass to the backyard, ready to fullfill her side of the master plot.
"Skipper," Fang locked gazes with Skip, using the lab's full name, overdramatically playing his part of the leader in this plan. He really considered himself leader all the time--in anything--but with this role of leader, he could do it with a bit more style. "Hop to it, kid," he muttered.
Skip opened his mouth--either to protest at being called kid or to take a bite out of Fang's left ear--but decided better of it and followed Afghanna into the backyard.
Fang wriggled his eyebrows. Now to get to his part of the plan.
Instead of trailing after his street-pup friends, Fang turned on his heels and raced at full-speed to the fence in the front yard, sliding through the hole dug in between two fence posts, and bolted down the street. He spied what he was looking for almost immediately as he rounded the corner of the brick-walled building across from Lady and the Tramp's house.
The Dogcatcher's truck.
Standing in the middle of the road, directly kin front of the vehicle so that the driver couldn't miss the sight of him, Fang squared his feet and stood his ground. A grin, fangs showing, spread across his muzzle. He lowered his head and eyelids, one red-orange eyebrow arched in the expression he always used when antagonizing the dogcatcher.
It worked. The cage-reared turck squealed after him as the Golden Retriever pup turned and ran as fast as he could to Lady and Tramp's street, stopping comically in front of their house, pressing himself--dramatically trembling--against the fence.
Meanwhile.......
Afghanna approached Angel. She pricked up her ears, hearing the dogcatcher's truck outside the front yard. Good--Fang was on time, for once. He must want this pomeranian's affections badly to be so punctual.
"Did y'hear that?" Afghanna twitched her head in the direction of the front yard, adressing Angel.
Angel got up from where she was laying in the grass, the sun turning her golden fur creamy-yellow. Her lemon-yellow collar's liscense jingled as she got to her paws. Afghanna resisted the urge to curl her lip.
"What?" Angel lifted her crooked ears. "I don't hear anything."
"That!" Afghanna winced. "It's the dogcatcher's truck--wait--where's Fang?" She hoped she sounded convincingly worried.
"Fang?" Angel blinked. "You mean he's gone?"
"What if the dogcatcher caught him?" Afghanna barked. "He's never been in the dogcatcher's net--much less that truck's cage!" She fidgeted, paws splayed, the picture of concern.
Skip was leading Scamp over to the girls. "Hey," he growled in his deep, gruff voice. "I just saw the dogcatcher's truck out front."
Scamp's eyes narrowed at the sound of it.
"Fang's missing." Afghanna informed them. Just like Fang told us to. Just like we rehearsed.
"Yeah?" Skip's eyes widened, but the scowl in his eyebrow-line didn't waver.
"Well, what if he's been caught, what do we do?" Angel yipped.
"Shouldn't we go after them or something?" Scamp asked, looking perplexed.
Angel looked at him. "You're right--"
"Woah, woah, woah, woah, woah," Afghanna cut in, talking rapidly. "Hang on there, house pet. You gonna stick your prissy little neck out for a Street Pup you barely know?" She certainly knew how to play her part.
Angel met the female pup's gaze with cold determination that could only come from experience with life on the streets. "He saved me from the pound once. Who's stopping me from returning the favor, huh?"
Skip craned his head around to gnaw at a flea on his hind leg. He turned back, tongue lolling out. "Fang?" he scoffed. "He saved you from the pound? Yeah, right."
Another yelp came from where the dog pound truck was. Angel's neck hairs lifted. Definitely Fang's bark.
"Well, no, actually I saved myself," Angel muttered hurriedly. "But it's the thought that counts."
Scamp cocked his wide, furry head, ears flopping. "Are we just gonna sit here or are we gonna go after them?"
"And shouldn't we get Tramp's and Lady's help first?" Angel asked.
Skip's head shot up. "Nah, we'll do it ourselves."
"Don't listen to me, I'm nobody important," Angel muttered to herself with a growl.
Afghanna stuck her nose in Angel's face, grinning wickedly. "And don't you forget it, house mutt."
* * * * * * * *
Fang jumped to the left again, the dogcatcher glaring at him and flinging his net down a few feet from fang, completely missing him. Fang grinned and let out another fake, pitiful cry of terror.
Barking exploded from the other side of the fence.
Afghanna and Angel were suddenly at his side, barking ferociously at the dogcatcher. Scamp and Skip were behind the man, nipping at his heels.
Fang elbowed Afghanna and gave her his half-closed eyes and crooked grin. "C'mon. Just like we planned. And hurry!"
Afghanna jumped into action, pretending to spring for the dogcatcher and 'accidentally' barreling into Angel, who had leaped closer to the dogcatcher to appear louder in barking.
While Angel rolled with Afghanna in a tangle of paws and tails, Fang slid around the man and scooted to Scamp's side, who was staring wide-eyed at Angel, seemingly surprised.
"Heya, house pet, how ya doin'?" Fang grinned, his eyes on the dogcatcher.
Scamp looked at Fang with barely disguised confusion. "You're okay?"
Fang winked. "Never better. That chump's old news for me. Ain't gonna catch ol' Fang no matter how hard he tries. But listen, champ," he showed his teeth in a wolfish smile. "Tell you what. I gotta feelin' things're gonna get ugly here in a minute. But no worries. As long as nobody gets caught..."
The net was poised over Afghanna and Angel. Fang's ears jumped in mock surprise.
"Save 'em, house pet, it isn't my job!" Fang pretended to cower behind Scamp, trembling.
Scamp looked over both shoulders, trying to look Fang full in the face. "What, me?"
"No, the other Scamp," Skip muttered on Scamp's left.
"Pipe down," Fang snapped to Skip. He directed his attention to Scamp again. "C'mon, they're headin' for a one-way ticket to life in a cell--no detours!"
Scamp stared as Angel cringed next to Afghanna, staring open-mouthed up at the net ready to crash down on them--she was frozen in shock.
"But w-w-what do I do?" Scamp stammered.
"Here's the plan, champ," Fang growled near Scamp's ear. "You go over and grab dollface's yellow collar. Then drag her away in the nick of time--I'll get Affy. But no matter what, if that net comes down, you jump away and hightail it back to your cozy little yard."
"With Angel," Scamp added firmly.
Fang lowered his eyelids, a toothy grin curling at the corner of his muzzle. "Yeah. With Angel."
Skip pushed them both from behind with his head. "Now!"
Scamp sprang forward, clearly under the net, and grabbed at Angel's yellow collar. Fang slid in next to Afghanna.
"Do it--now!" Fang hissed in her ear.
Afghanna shot him a venomous look and used both paws to shove Angel's head down when Scamp wasn't looking, too preoccupied with tugging at the collar.
As Scamp pulled hard at Angel's yellow collar and Afghanna held the pomeranian's head down, the collar slid up and off of Angel's neck, over her head, dangling from Scamp's mouth.
The net flung down towards them. Time seemed to stop.
Fang shoved at Scamp with his muzzle. "Now, house pet! Get out!"
Scamp, eyes wide with panic and his head dazed, did as he was ordered and ran from the scene, stopping at the fence. Afghanna grabbed Angel's collar in her mouth and tossed it to Skip, who caught it expertly and dashed around the corner of the dust-grounded alleyway, disappearing.
The net came down onto Angel, who was now collarless. The dogcatcher picked her up, toting the net over his shoulder by its long pole, and dragged Angel into the back-of-the-truck cage.
Fang and Afghanna ran around the corner of the fence, hiding.
When the dogcatcher's vehicle began to pull away with Angel howling in the back of the truck, Scamp's jaw dropped and he ran out to the middle of the dusty, alley road, staring wide-eyed at Angel's rapidly dissapearing form on the horizon.
"Angel!" Scamp cried.
Fang and Afghanna padded out to where the mutt-pup stood, coughing on the dust that came from the tires of the truck.
"Way to go, house pet," Fang snarled sarcastically. "You're a disaster all your own, huh?"
Scamp glared at him. "You tricked me!"
Fang shook his head. "No, no, champ, you did that by yourself. I tried to make you a hero, but as usual, you house dogs screw things up pretty good, don't ya? Shoulda done it myself. Now look what you've done. Dollface is headed for the slammer, and it's all your fault."
Scamp lifted one paw and crouched, leaning away from them, mouth open slightly, a sad look on his face, eyebrows slanting downward, ears and tail drooping. He stared at Fang, slowly realizing--or thinking he was realizing--that the Golden Retriever pup was right.
Fang's mind buzzed with triumph. Another plan, perfectly executed.
"Get outta here, house mutt," Fang leaned in, baring his teeth at Scamp. "Get back to your snuggly little family--let us take care of Angel. You just better sleep well tonight, after what you did."
Scamp took one last look down the road where the dogcatcher's truck had disappeared, and slunk away towards the yard, shamefaced. What have I done?
Chapter 5
Fang had set off alone, claws clicking on the sidewalk as he sniffed his way to the pound. It took him a while to find it again, this being the third time he had really been there all his life.
The dogcatcher, meanwhile, was inside the pound, inspecting Angel as he carried her to her cell. "Could've sworn you had a collar on you," he murmured to himself. "Ah, well. In you go, girl." He dumped her into a cage.
Angel got to her feet and shook herself, ears flopping. "Brrrghh!" She peered through her cage's wire-rimmed door. What happened back there? Risk myself for a Street Dog and look what happens. I hope Scamp's okay.
She stood on her hind legs and shoved her nose up against the latch that locked the door. It didn't budge, for once. Angel sat back down, head hanging. So much for her escape. And without her collar...
"'Scuse me, miss, have we met?"
Angel looked up. "Fang?" she barked.
Fang put a paw beside his mouth, narrowing his eyes. "Ssshhh, not so loud, doll. I'm springin' ya."
Angel's gaze and head followed his movements as he padded to the left and right, pacing in front of her. He put his front paws against the cage-door and stretched up omn his hind legs, nose inching toward the latch.
"It won't work," Angel told him dully. "They've rigged it."
"Don't you worry your pretty head, Ang'," Fang smirked. "You gotta have the right moves."
Angel lowered her eyelids and turned up one side of her mouth in a crooked smile. "That'll happen."
"Obliged for your confidence, m'lady," Fang bowed comically. "Now stand still and pipe down."
He backed up until his rear end slammed against the dog's cage behind him.
A scraggly brown dog's head raised mournfully. It must have been napping. The noise had to have woken the prisoner up.
"Sorry, pal," Fang smiled sheepishly. "Count sheep--it helps."
The dog lowered his head again, out of sight.
Fang winked at Angel, crouching again. "I prefer to count steaks, but I'd wake up hungry every mornin'. Hold still."
Angel chuckled.
Fang grabbed the lid of a nearby mini tin trash can and flung it a few feet away, making it roll on its side. He sprang on top of it and moved the rolling lid forward with his front paws. He was a little unsteady, a little wobbly, but balanced soon enough. He rolled it until he had it leaning upright, standing still against the wide, human-sized door of Angel's cell/cage, high enough to gnaw at the latch with his famously sharp fangs. He got a good hold on the top, the wide, wooden nail-like object that kept it locked. He yanked up, and the substitute lock was flung across the isle.
Fang looked down at Angel from his paws-in-an-awkward-line pose on the still-on-its-side trash can lid. "Okay, doll, you can try it now. But wait'll I get--"
Angel flung the latch up with her nose and shoved the door open with her front paws, making the trash can lid--and Fang--topple to the floor, causing a loud crash.
"--down." Fang finished with a groan. He stood up and rolled his neck around. Angel winced as it cracked and popped.
"You should see a vet about that," Angel commented slyly as she trotted past him, head in the air.
"I planned on it." Fang stood up, gave himself a shake, and proceeded to trip over the trash can lid. It clanged.
The same scraggly brown dog lifted his head into view from his cage and woofed halfheartedly at Fang.
"Sheep," Fang ordered irritably. "One, two, three, four, five..."
The dog lowered his head again.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
"So where y'heading now?" Fang asked, walking beside Angel. They were in the middle of town, strolling along the sidewalks and avoiding people.
"Home." Angel replied tartly.
"Home..." Fang repeated, confused. "Why now?"
"I told you before, Fang, they're family. I'm staying with them."
Fang sat down, forcing her to stop as he did so often, scratching at a flea near his ear. "Staying?" he snorted out a laugh. Then he leaped in front of her, going into a play-crouch, rump in the air, tail wagging, his tongue hanging out of his mouth. "No, no, no--you don't get it, do you? They're humans. They don't think--unless it's about themselves. They don't feel--unless it's hapiness that they got what they wanted. They're typical furless monsters, Angel. Why don't you start over, live footloose and collar-free out on the streets?"
"I am not living out here again!" Angel thrust her head toward him, eyebrows pinched together. "Never again. I've eaten that kibble before, Fang. It's not happening twice."
Fang cocked his head, sitting up, ceasing the panting. "Didn't you say you had five families before this nuthouse?"
"Okay, fine. It's not happening a sixth time. Happy?" Angel pushed past him and continued walking. "Keep your alleys and your trash cans, Fang. I'll take collars and bowls. I'm going home, where I belong."
Fang watched her go for a while, battling with his pride. "Chains!" he called after her. "Fences! Doghouses!"
Angel stopped and looked over her shoulder. "That's what Scamp used to think too. Tell me, is he unhappy?"
That was all she said. Then she turned the corner and dissapeared.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
In an abandoned old storage shed with an attic, wood planks missing and carpets torn, three street pups scarfed down day-old pizza they had smuggled from the dumpster behind Tony's Resteraunt while lounging on stained, ripped up old couches and cushions that looked like they had been rolled in dust for centuries.
"No way," Afghanna shook her head, eyes closed in confident disagreement. "Squirrels outrun dogs by a long shot."
"Says you," Skip scoffed, wrinkling his nose.
Fang was on the floor, grumbling about females and how they never knew what was good for them. He was pacing back and forth, his steps taking wider and wider space up, his strides longer. He kept getting closer to a long wooden table covered in cobwebs.
On the couch, on either side of the pizza boxes, Afghanna and Skip continued their argument.
"I live at the park, Afghanna, and I know. I race squirrels all the time." Skip lifted his head, gnawing at the crust of some pepperoni slices.
"Ever catch one?"
"No."
Afghanna triumphantly took another bite of day-old cheese pizza. Tomato sauce squirted onto her pitch-black nose. "There you go, then. Squirrels are way fast."
Fang was still grumbling. "Cozy little family. Puh!"
"...But seriously, Skip, squirrels are smarter than dogs." Afghanna was saying above, on the couch.
Without looking where he was going, Fang whammed into the table, stumbling and yelping when cobwebs clung to his muzzle.
Afghanna exchanged a glance with Skip, eyelids lowered. "Exhibit A," she jerked her head towards Fang.
Fang shook the cobwebs off, spitting and gagging. He glared up at his friends. "How can you eat at a time like this?"
"Lemme think about this one," Skip screwed up his face and looked upward. He snorted and sarcastically commented to Fang, "Because it's dinnertime?"
Fang snapped at Skip with his extra-sharp teeth, completely missing; he was on the ground while Skip was curled onto the couch.
"You could use some chow-time," Afghanna observed. She nosed the pizza box until it fell off the couch, landing at Fang's paws. "You're sure to be hungry."
Fang ignored her rare show of kindness and shoved the box away with his own nose. "That prissy pomeranian dumped me--after all the work I did to get her!"
Afghanna stared at him, unmoved. "You were never 'together' in the first place."
Fang glared at her. "Dream-killer. Whatever. Look, I got another plan."
Skip groaned. "Not again. Leave me out of it. My ears are still ringing from all that barking. Besides, they never work."
"Nonsense," Fang argued. "That last one worked."
"Oh yeah, bubblebrain?" Skip snorted. "How? Did y'get the girl?"
Fang hesitated, then lowered his eyelids and gave Skip a cool look. "Not right away. You don't rush up to 'em and fall all over 'em. These things take time, Skipper,"
"Yeah," Skip scoffed. "Right. And, uh, how did that plan work when she gave you the cold shoulder? What's your tactic?" Skip lifted one ear, batting his eyes, in mock-interest in the answer.
"Ever heard of 'playing hard to get', fuzzball?" Fang snapped, growling low. He crouched, glaring up at Skip.
Skip crouched too, front paws on the edge of the couch's cushion. "Who're you calling fuzzball, cat-breath?"
"Beady-eyes!"
"Big nose!"
"Chew toy!"
"House pet!"
That teared it. Fang sprang on top of Skip, and the two rolled off the couch and rolled around on the floor, a furry mass of puppy.
Afghanna rolled her eyes. "Males. You don't see us girls turning into a bunch of overgrown savages."
Fang, who was having a bad day, lifted his head from the battle and shot back at her, "You don't see us guys gettin' greedy while chowin' down on pizza like it was our final meal."
Afghanna sprang to her paws and joined the rucus.
Chapter 6
Scamp sat on the landing, the place you could sit at the top of the first flight of stairs in the Darling house, where you good look out the big, stained-glass window into the backyard outside. He sighed, ears drooping. How could I let it happen? Poor Angel...
"You okay up here, Whirlwind?" Tramp padded up the stairs to sit beside his son.
Scamp hung his head even lower. "I ruined everything. Angel's at the pound all because of me."
Tramp nudged Scamp with his nose. "Ah, c'mon, pal. It can't be that bad." He drew his head up, wolfishly smiling, eyelids lowered. "Why, I wouldn't be surprised if those street pups came howling back into the yard with her this very moment."
Scamp stared at him woefully. You could tell Tramp was trying hard to believe what he'd said.
"A-roooooooo! Arf-arf-rooo!"
Scamp and Tramp's heads shot up and they peered through the stained-glass window out to the backyard.
It was Angel, alone. She ran into the yard, barking and howling at the top of her lungs. "Owwwwooo!"
Soon the entire family was out yet again, cuddling Angel and nuzzling her, the dogs licking her face roughly and Scamp bowling her over with joy.
Jim Dear and Darling were still asleep in this early hour of the morning, so they didn't come out.
From the age-old break in the fence, a Golden Retriever pup watched Scamp and Angel roll around in the dust with flaming red eyes.
"Wants a snuggly little House Pet for a mate, does she?" Fang snarled to himself. "Well, ain't no way I'm puttin' on a collar for any girl!" He paused. "There're other ways to get her to see it my way. I'm irresistable, ask any female pup, street dog or house pet. Time to take credit for my part in the doll's great escape!"
He stepped gingerly into the yard. "Thank you, thank you, I'm here all week, folks."
The dogs looked up. Scamp flinched. Angel snorted.
Tramp trotted up to Fang. "We owe you one, kid. Angel's home, safe and sound, thanks to you."
Fang lifted his head. "No need to say it twice. It was nothing, honest."
Behind them, Lady chuckled along with her triplet Cocker Spaniel daughters.
Scamp's ears drooped. He stepped up beside his father. "Uh, yeah, thanks. It was nice of you to bring her home."
"Oh, he didn't bring me here." Angel trotted in between Fang and the two House Dogs, father and son. Fang watched her every movement.
"Huh, he didn't?" Scamp asked, slack-jawed.
"Are you kidding? He tried to get me to check out life on the wrong side of the tracks."
Fang didn't cringe; his pride beat the urge from him.
Tramp's eyes narrowed at the Golden Retriever. "She's been there, pal. That side of the tracks is no place for a good dog."
Fang raised his head and drew himself up to his full height, a head taller than Scamp. "Then call me a bad dog."
Lady looked firmly dissapointed in him from behind.
Tramp circled Fang. Fang stood still, not moving his head, only watching Tramp with his eyes when the large mutt passed in front of him.
"You're a strange street dog." Tramp shook his head, stopping in front of Fang and sitting down in the grass. The sun was coming up. "Why don't you find yourself a nice family that loves you?"
"Is that what you did?" Fang sneered at the older dog. A nasty smile curled at the corners of his muzzle. "Rent a collar and woo a Spaniel," he jerked his head toward Lady disrespectfully, "and suddenly you got free meals and a cushy pillow--complete with fenced-in yards and a nice doghouse?"
Tramp bared his teeth. "Get out of here. I made my choice. You've made yours. Don't show your face in this yard again."
"Or what?" Fang smirked. Sure, he was a kid and Tramp was an adult--a retired Street Dog, the best one ever--but Tramp was too decent now to whup him.
"Or I'll make you wish you hadn't," Tramp replied simply. Fang was impressed with the calm tone of voice he displayed, along with the skill to back up his words, but he didn't show it.
Angel leaned towards Fang. "You better get out of here, Fang," she said in a tone that told him not to mess with her this time. "Go back to your alleys."
"Yeah," Scamp agreed. Fang took a snap at him and missed. Tramp stepped in front of the house dog group, blocking Fang from them--and Angel.
"Get moving," Tramp snarled. "And don't ever come back."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Do y'mind? I'm walking here!" Fang barked. Crossing the street, a few horse-drawn truck-like vehicles has nearly crushed him. Of course he knew the humans couldn't understand him--but perhaps dumb animals like horses would.
Fang safely crossed to the park. The morning had quickly gotten ugly, rain pouring from the sky to soak his golden pelt and turn it chestnut-brown.
Afghanna and Skip were waiting for him under a grove of thick bushes, where it was safely dry.
"How'd that go?" Skip growled, as usual, when he saw him.
"Shut up." Fang shook himself dry, wetting Afghanna, who was on his left.
"D'you mind?" She exclaimed, shaking her ears. "I was just getting dry."
"So sorry," Fang muttered. He lay down and but his head on his paws.
Afghanna softened. "You okay?"
"Never better, Affy, just brilliant."
"It didn't go well, did it?" Afghanna nudged him with her nose.
"Nah, where'd y'get that idea?" Fang answered moodily. "Went great. We're plannin' a honeymoon in her backyard."
"Growl louder," Skip commented dryly, "I think the fish in the pond didn't hear you."
"Quiet!" Afghanna snapped at him. She turned back to Fang, bending her head to his level where he lay. "So what if it didn't work out? You've got us."
Fang was silent.
"C'mon, Aff," Skip grumbled. "We aren't wanted."
Afghanna looked down at Fang. "Fang?"
The Golden Retriever pup turned his head away.
Afghanna's eyebrows lowered. She scowled. "Whatever."
Fang glared at nothing as they left.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Scamp! Angel! Catch!"
Junior tossed the small blue-and-yellow ball. The two pups went after it immediately, bowling each other over to see who could get to the object first.
Scamp caught it and ran around the living room with Angel on his heels, Junior clapping his little hands.
"Rrrghhaa!" Scamp leaped high into the air, ball still in his mouth, and jumped onto the sofa.
"Scamp!" Jim Dear's head appeared in the doorway. "What have I told you about climbing on the furniture? Down!"
Scamp's ears drooped and he hopped down. Angel tackled him.
"Got it!" Angel cried around the ball in her mouth. She dropped it, panting. "I win, tenderfoot!"
"Yeah," Scamp gasped for breath. "Hey, Angel, about yesterday..."
"Don't worry," Angel touched his cheek with her nose. "It wasn't your fault. At least I have my collar back on."
Scamp grinned nervously. "Heh heh, yeah."
"Settle down, you two," Tramp strolled into the room, Lady at his side. "Scamp, were you climbing on the sofa?"
Scamp swallowed hard. "Uh, no?"
Lady put her front paws on the sofa, sniffing it all over. "Pawprints--Scamp!"
Scamp looked away. "Uh, er, are y'sure those aren't...your pawprints, Ma?"
Lady gave him a stern look.
"Sorry." Scamp muttered.
"Perk up, pal," Tramp nudged him. "Darling won't blame you for that." Walking away, he muttered, "Happens every week."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Beat it, whiskers, nobody wants you here!" Fang took a particularly nasty snap at an orange tabby cat that dared to wander into his alley and try to steal his day-old steak.
The cat yowled and hissed and sped away down the alley. Fang snorted in his direction--or where he had been--then stormed back to his steak, chewing on it angrily.
"Friends!" Fang snorted. "Who needs 'em? I'm cool on my own." He lifted his head, eyes closed, crooked smile appearing. "Yeah! King of the block, that's me."
A low growl came from behind him. Fang turned. Two big, ugly mutts snarled, baring their teeth, and headed his way.
"Of course, I am a generous ruler," Fang grinned nervously as he backed away. "Here, take my crown, fellas," He nudged the steak towards them and turned tail, running towards a stack of crates and trash cans, leaping to the rooftop of the building on the left that made the alley.
He heard a noise behind him. Trapped on an iron rod sticking out of the buildingtop he was on, Fang saw a tarp flapping in the wind. Perfect.
He snatched it up and click-clacked with his claws/doggie-nails across the buildingtop to where he could look down into the alley where the mutts were growling at each other over who got the steak he'd left. Fang sneered, relishing the moment, then called down:
"Hey fellas, don't it seem cold today?"
The dogs looked up, grunting in surprise and confusion. "Uhhhrr?"
"Yep, it's chilly out. Sure you don't need a blanket?"
The dogs exchanged glances, not sure how to respond. What a couple of boneheads.
"You do?" Fang batted his eyelids. "Okay, catch!"
He flung the tarp down. Bam! Right on target, floating down on top of the mutts. The ugly dogs scrambled, flipping onto their backs and trying to escape, legs tangled. Whining and growling and snarling hit Fang's ears.
"Not enough? How about some blockage from this wind? Killer breeze, ain't it?" Fang grunted as he hopped down onto the crate pile. He tipped over trash cans and their lids, even using all his strength to shove a few crates.
The trash can lids rammed into the mutts, causing them to squeal. Soon they had darted out of the alley, running into walls and tripping over each other. Why? They still wore the tarp.
"Eh-heh heh heh heh," Fang chuckled wickedly. He hopped down into the alley and snatched up the steak.
"Don't mess with my meat, fellas."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Well, well!" Fang stopped. "What have we here?"
He had spotted two familiar figures in the distance on the sidewalk. Two pups, collarless, teasing the dogcatcher.
The female snapped at the dogcatcher's heels while the small male barked loudly and hopped onto his hind legs in order to put his front paws on the man's legs.
The net came down. It got the female. Fang stiffened.
He backed into another alley, running down it and skidding to a stop, paws still running, and turned the corner into another alley, where you could look ahead and see out to the streets, right where the dogcatcher's truck was parked on the sidewalk.
He charged head-on towards the back of the truck, leaping silently onto the wooden landing in front of the caged back door. He sprang onto the top of the truck with ease; the vehicle wasn't that great where height was concerned. He padded to the edge, where he could see the commotion below.
He let out a bark and a howl.
The dogcatcher turned, eyes wide. "What the--" he narrowed his gaze. "You again? Down, boy! Git!" He waved his arms.
Fang sat down and yawned.
"You little--" The dogcatcher fumed. He grabbed the net, the female pup still swinging inside it, and flung her into the caged back-of-the-truck. He closed and locked the door, moving to step on the wooden landing and to climb up after the Golden Retriever pup.
Fang wiggled his eyebrows and skidded across the top of the truck. He stopped at the edge of the back, then leaned down and casually snatched the dogcatcher's hat.
"Hey, now, boy, hand it over!" The dogcatcher whistled for the pup. He seemed much nicer than the bozo Angel had told Fang about--the dogcatcher that had locked Scamp in a cage once with a monster dog named Reggie.
"Here, puppy, puppy, come on, boy!"
Fang cocked his head and play-crouched, waggling his rear end. "Here, dogcatcher, dogcatcher, come on, guy!"
Of course, the human couldn't hear this.
"Catch!" Fang growled. He flung the hat down the sidewalk, into a trash can. The dogcatcher dashed after it.
"Humans and their headgear," Fang muttered, scratching an ear, with his left hind leg, making the ear flop about.
"Hey!" came a voice from the cage below. "Fido! Little help here!"
Fang took his sweet time getting down there. He slipped onto the landing in front of the dogcatcher's back-seat-truck-cage.
Fang gave the girl pup a devilish smile. "Heya, Affy, did'ya miss me?"
Afghanna scoffed gratefully. "Come on, superdog, the dogcatcher's on his way back."
"Is she okay?" came a voice from a few inches below them, on the sidewalk.
"Relax, Skipper, she's in the paws of the best," Fang called down.
"I'll bet." Skip grumbled. Fang ignored him.
In seconds, the three pups were free and they had made their way to the park.
"Sorry about the rotten way I treated you two," Fang apologized, strolling along as if stepping to a silent rock beat. "But that pomeranian pet hooked me like no girl I've met."
Afghanna rolled her eyes. "Apology excepted, bigshot."
She elbowed Skip as they walked.
"Yeah, what she said," Skip growled.
"S'okay," Fang continued walking, two inches ahead of his friends, they flanked him from a tiny bit behind. "Even if it didn't work out, I got another plan."
His friends groaned.
"Hey, hey, hey," Fang raised his head as he walked, eyelids half closed. "You're with Fang. King of the block, gang. You'll live."
~To be continued in part 3!~