Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

We all cheered as the slide gained speed and made its way to the "jump" part of the hill. The air was filled with the sound of our exhilaration, a symphony of joy and excitement. I saw little Deepak trying to get away from the splash zone, his tiny legs scrambling as fast as they could. 

"Should've listened to the universe!" I could hear him saying, his voice a mix of terror and exasperation as he didn't manage to avoid the incoming mud splash. The mud hit him squarely, and his expression was priceless, a blend of shock and reluctant acceptance of his muddy fate.

We all landed at the bottom, covered in mud but laughing uncontrollably. Some pups were so taken by the fun that they immediately ran back up the hill to experience the slide again, their energy seemingly endless. Others, too exhausted or content with their current state, stayed at the bottom, playing in the mud, making the most of the spontaneous mudslide.

I got back up, mud dripping from my fur, while Dylan was still on the ground, smiling and giggling even after the ride. His laughter was infectious, and I couldn’t help but grin at the sight. An idea popped into my head, mischievous and irresistible. I scoped out some mud and rolled it into a ball, feeling the cool, wet earth between my paws.

“Hey, Dylan!” I yelled, trying to get his attention.

Dylan looked at me, his eyes twinkling with curiosity for a second before realizing what I was about to do. His expression shifted from relaxed joy to playful alarm.

“Think fast!” I said, smiling widely as I lobbed the mudball toward him.

Splat! 

The mudball hit him squarely on the face, splattering all over. Dylan’s eyes widened in mock outrage, but his smile betrayed his true feelings. He quickly scooped up a handful of mud, rolling it into a ball.

“Oh, you’re gonna get it now!” Dylan shouted, laughter bubbling in his voice. He threw the mudball back at me, and I barely dodged, feeling the wet earth brush past my fur.

Soon, a full-fledged mud fight erupted. Other pups, seeing our fun, joined in, their laughter and squeals of delight filling the air. Mud balls flew in every direction, and no one was spared. We ducked and dodged, rolled and threw, the mud fight becoming more chaotic and hilarious with each passing moment.

The parents, watching from a safe distance, shook their heads with amused smiles. Dolly, who couldn’t resist joining in. She picked up a handful of mud and lobbed it at us, her precise aim and hasty nature made her a formidable opponent.

“Take cover!” someone shouted, and we all scrambled, trying to find makeshift shelters behind bushes or trees. But there was no real escape from the mud barrage.

As the mud fight continued, we all became unrecognizable blobs of mud, our fur caked and our faces streaked with dirt. But it didn’t matter. The fun and camaraderie we shared were worth every bit of the mess.

Time went by in a blur of laughter and play. Eventually, we were all exhausted, our energy spent, but our spirits were high. The mud fight had brought us closer together, a shared adventure that would remember for a long time.

We flopped onto the ground, panting and laughing, our chests heaving with the exertion. The mud felt cool against our fur, a stark contrast to the warmth of the setting sun.

“That was epic,” Dylan said, his voice hoarse but happy. His eyes sparkled with the remnants of adrenaline and delight.

“Yeah,” I agreed, looking around at my muddy companions. “Best day ever.”

“Alright, pups, time to head home!” Delilah’s voice rang out across the park, her tone gentle but firm in that way only a mother could manage. The pups, though clearly reluctant to let the day’s fun come to an end, obediently perked up their ears and began to gather, their playful yips and giggles slowly fading as they trailed after their mom.

“Guess that’s the end of our fun for today,” Dylan sighed, his voice carrying a mix of disappointment and amusement as he watched the others leave the playground.

“Kids! Time to go home!” Delilah called out again, this time a little louder to catch the attention of the stragglers still chasing each other near the slide.

A collective groan of “Aawww!” echoed through the park as the pups expressed their shared dismay. No one ever wanted playtime to end.

I glanced over at Dylan, silently sharing in the bittersweet feeling. Just as I was about to wave goodbye, a sudden splash of cold, wet mud hit me square in the face.

“HEY!” I yelped, stumbling back a step as Dylan shook himself off from the puddle he’d landed in, flinging muddy droplets in every direction—especially onto me.

Wiping the muck from my eyes, I shot him a deadpan glare, my face dripping with mud. And there he was—grinning at me like a mischievous pup who’d just gotten away with sneaking a treat off the counter.

“Oh, you are so asking for it,” I muttered, scooping a hefty clump of mud from my side and lobbing it squarely at his face. It landed with a satisfying splat .

Dylan blinked through the mud, then laughed. “Okay, okay — I deserved that one.”

“Yeah, but admit it,” I said with a grin, my earlier annoyance already forgotten, “it was fun while it lasted.”

“Wouldn’t trade it for anything,” he replied.

As the family began to make their way out of the park, I stood back a little, watching them from a distance. Their laughter and chatter filled the fading daylight, and for a moment, I felt a pang deep in my chest. The day had been filled with nothing but joy, laughter, and simple pleasures, but it also reminded me of how different our lives really were. They had a warm, loving home waiting for them, a family who cared. I, on the other hand, had a small, makeshift shelter hidden in the corner of a quiet alley nearby. It wasn’t much — a few old boxes and some scavenged blankets — but it was the only refuge I had.

I turned to leave quietly, not wanting to spoil their good mood or burden them with my situation. I preferred to slip away unnoticed, avoid the awkwardness of goodbyes and pitying glances.

But before I could fully disappear, a familiar voice called out behind me.

“Hey! Danny, wait up a minute,” Doug’s deep, steady voice reached me.

I froze, slowly turning to face him. Doug stood a short distance away, his expression open and kind, just like it had been the first day I’d met him.

“Why don’t you come back with us?” Doug offered, taking a few steps closer. “Get yourself a hot meal, maybe a proper bath. No sense heading off alone in this cold.”

I hesitated, my pride and independence battling with the aching loneliness and gnawing hunger in my gut. I’d always managed on my own, and it felt… strange, letting someone else look after me. But the thought of a home-cooked meal and a warm bath was too tempting to resist.

Before I could answer, Dylan appeared at his father’s side, his face bright with excitement. “Come on, Danny! You don’t have to be by yourself tonight. It’s been ages since we had someone over. It’ll be fun!”

I looked between them — Doug’s steady, fatherly warmth and Dylan’s genuine eagerness. It tugged at something in me I hadn’t let myself feel in a while.

I took a deep breath and nodded. “Alright… I’d like that. Thanks.”

Doug’s face lit up in a broad smile. “Good. Let’s get moving before these pups eat the house.”

As we left the park behind, the streetlights flickered on, casting soft, golden pools of light along the path. The evening air was cool, carrying the scent of grass and distant wood smoke. Dylan walked beside me, animatedly recounting the best moments of the day—the epic mud fight, the dizzying slide race, and the daring climb up the jungle gym.

Listening to him talk so easily made me feel a little more at ease with each step.

When we reached their home, a cozy little house with a sprawling yard, the pups burst through the front door like a tidal wave, their laughter filling the air. Doug gestured for me to follow him.

“Bathroom’s this way,” he said. “Clean yourself up — Dog knows these pups will take forever to settle.”

“Thanks, Doug,” I replied sincerely, stepping inside.

The warmth of the house wrapped around me immediately. It smelled like fresh biscuits and something meaty simmering on the stove. I made my way to the bathroom, peeling off the dried, caked mud. The warm water felt heavenly as it rushed over my fur, washing away the grime of the day. I lingered longer than I should’ve, savoring the simple luxury.

Once I was clean and dry, I headed back downstairs. I found Dylan in the kitchen, spreading bowls of kibble across the floor while the pups eagerly circled around like a pack of tiny, spotted whirlwinds.

“Need a hand?” I asked.

“Sure!” Dylan grinned. We worked together, setting out the rest of the food. As we moved between the bowls, he glanced over. “So… what was your favorite part of today?”

I smiled as I remembered the slide and the mud fight. “Probably when you nailed me with mud. Even though it was gross, it was kinda awesome.”

Dylan laughed. “Yeah, you’re a natural at this stuff.”

We finished just in time as Delilah called out, “Dinner’s served!”

The pups erupted in excited chatter, each scrambling to their favorite spot. The room buzzed with noisy, infectious energy as bowls clinked against the floor and tails wagged furiously.

I sat down with my own bowl and took a bite. The kibble was surprisingly good—maybe it was just the company.

Dylan trotted over, his bowl already half-empty. He plopped down beside me, his fur slightly rumpled from earlier play. “Having a good time?” he asked, his voice light but sincere, his eyes warm with curiosity.

I nodded, a genuine smile tugging at my lips. “Yeah… It’s been a while since I ate like this.” I hadn’t realized how much I missed this kind of simple, easy togetherness until right now.

Before we could talk more, a sharp, teasing voice cut through the lively room.

Dolly strolled up, smirking with that signature confident swagger of hers, and cocked her head. “So tell me, Danny—how come a nerd like Dylan even knows you? Did he recruit you for one of his space missions or rope you into reading his haikus or something?” She nudged Dylan playfully with her elbow.

Doug, overhearing from the other side of the room as he finished distributing the last of the bowls to the youngest pups, gave a light, fatherly chime, “Now, now, Dolly…” His voice carried that easygoing warmth, though with just enough of a scolding edge to make her smirk falter for half a second. “Dylan’s a good pup, and if he made a friend, that’s something to be proud of. Kids like him need someone grounded around… and Danny here seems just the type.”

Dolly rolled her eyes good-naturedly but grinned, accepting the gentle rebuke. “Alright, Dad.”

I chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of my head. “Uh… well, it’s kinda a long story.”

The pups nearby leaned in, their ears perking up as if sensing a good tale coming. I glanced at Dylan, silently begging him to handle this one for me.

Dylan let out a sigh, clearly used to cleaning up after my awkward moments. “Well… I met him about what? Two weeks ago?” he started, setting his bowl down. “And he was… eating our leftover kibble.”

A few of the pups gasped in exaggerated shock, their eyes wide. Dolly raised a brow, clearly entertained.

“Hey! It wasn’t much!” I cut in quickly, waving my paws defensively. “I swear — just a couple bites at most!”

Dylan gave me one of his classic deadpan looks, his ears twitching. “You ate like three to four bowls a night, dude.”

A strangled noise of defeat escaped my throat as I tried to form a defense, but the words died before they reached my mouth. I sank a little lower, my ears drooping in embarrassment as a ripple of laughter passed through the room.

Then Dante, who’d been lurking by the windowsill like a gloomy gargoyle, finally spoke up. His voice carried that usual melodramatic gloom, like a storm cloud in an otherwise sunny day.

“So… you’re telling me Dylan wasn’t cursed into a weredog like I predicted… he was just hanging out with you ?” he said, sounding almost disappointed, his tail flicking lazily behind him.

The room burst into laughter again, even Dolly doubling over with a bark of amusement.

I grinned sheepishly. “Sorry to disappoint you, Dante.”

He sighed, gazing out the window as if mourning the death of his latest apocalyptic theory. “There goes another perfectly good prophecy.”

Doug chuckled as he ruffled Dante’s ears in passing. “Not every day’s the end of the world, kid.”

Dante huffed and muttered something about "prophecies wasted" under his breath, but there was a small, reluctant grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. The pups around them continued their dinner, the room filled with the comfortable noise of bowls clinking and excited conversation. Every so often, one of the pups would wander over to Danny, asking another question or sharing a goofy story, and he found himself laughing more than he had in a long while.

As the minutes rolled by, the atmosphere settled into an easy, contented warmth. Dylan sat close by, occasionally chiming in with a teasing remark or leaning over to nudge me when one of the younger pups asked an especially weird question. Delilah and Doug kept a watchful but relaxed eye on the room, looking pleased with how smoothly the evening was going.

I let myself enjoy it for a little while longer — the clinking of bowls, the soft giggles, and the way everyone here felt so natural together. It was easy to pretend, just for a bit, that this was normal for me too.

But eventually, my gaze wandered up to the clock hanging on the wall. The numbers stared back at me, and I felt my ears droop. It was later than I realized. The streetlights outside stretched long shadows across the windows, and the once lively pups were starting to slow down, yawning and stretching as their energy finally wore out.

I cleared my throat and set my now-empty bowl aside. “I, uh… I should probably get going,” I said, my voice a little quieter than it had been all night.

Instantly, a wave of disappointed “Awww!” swept through the pups like a gust of wind, tails drooping and ears falling flat. Even Dolly, who I could tell wasn’t usually the sentimental type, shot me a half-smile and a shrug like, your loss. Dawkins furrowed his brow, probably trying to compute a logical reason for me to stay. Dante didn’t say anything, but he gave me a look, like even he thought it was a dumb idea to head out at this hour.

Then I saw Dylan’s face. The grin he’d worn all night flickered and faded, replaced with something I couldn’t quite name, but it made my stomach twist.

“You… you sure?” he asked, glancing down at his paws, then back up at me. “I mean… You could crash here for the night. Plenty of space, extra blankets, no one’d mind.”

I hesitated, scratching the back of my neck. “Thanks, really. But I’m kinda used to my own spot. Got a system, you know?”

And it was true. I had my little corner of the world. A few blankets, a dry patch behind the bakery, a view of the stars. It wasn’t much, but it was mine.

The disappointment in the room hit like a brick. Even the pups who were half-asleep perked up to protest.

“But Dannyyy—” one of the Dimitri Triplets whined.

“Can’t you stay just ‘til morning?” another added, looking genuinely crushed.

I couldn’t help but chuckle, though there was a little sting buried in it. “You guys are somethin’ else. But really, I'd better go.”

Doug stepped over then, placing a firm, steady paw on my shoulder. “You’re welcome here anytime, son. Don’t be a stranger, alright?”

I nodded, offering him a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, Mr. Dalmatian. Means a lot.”

I could feel the eyes following me as Dylan walked me to the door. He opened it, and the night air poured in, cool and sharp against my fur. The warm glow of the house behind me made it feel even colder by comparison.

“Guess I’ll see ya around,” Dylan said, trying for casual but not quite pulling it off.

“Yeah,” I replied, forcing a grin. “Thanks for everything, Dylan. Had a blast.”

He gave me a small wave as I stepped outside. I walked a few paces down the street, feeling the glow of the porch light on my back until it dimmed and flickered as I passed under the streetlamp. I could still feel his eyes on me.

Then, just as the door started to creak closed behind me, I heard a quick shuffling sound and turned my head.

A small figure darted toward me.

I squinted in the low light. “Dorothy?”

Before she could make it past, Dylan snagged her gently by the scruff and lifted her back.

“Whoa there, squirt. Where do you think you’re going?” he asked, his brow knitting.

Dorothy made a soft babbling sound, something between a gurgle and a chirp, and reached a tiny paw toward the street, her eyes wide and serious. “Duh… Da… Dee… Dee-Dee,” she mumbled.

I blinked. She was trying to say my name.

Dylan sighed, crouching down to meet her. “He’s fine, Dorothy. He’s got his own place.”

Dorothy babbled something else, stringing together nonsense sounds while giving Dylan the saddest look I’d ever seen a pup make. She pointed a tiny paw toward me again, eyes glassy.

Dylan’s ears drooped. “Yeah… It’s not like ours,” he admitted softly.

I stood there awkwardly, not sure whether to say something or just disappear into the night.

Dylan sighed again, ruffling her little ears. “But he’s tough, okay? He’s been fine before, and he’ll be fine now.”

Dorothy gave a soft, unhappy noise, snuggling against his paw.

“Yeah,” Dylan added after a moment, his voice so quiet I almost missed it, “I wish he could stay too.”

He scooped her up and carried her back toward the house. As he reached the door, Dylan looked over his shoulder at me one last time.

I gave him a weak grin, one that probably came out lopsided and tired. “See ya.”

He nodded. Then the door closed.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “Well… that was awkward,” I muttered to myself as I turned and started walking down the dim street.

The cold nipped at my nose, and the warmth of that house—of that moment—felt a million miles away already.

But I shook it off. I had my system. I’d be fine.

Like always.

————ᕙ[･۝･]ᕗ————

Dylan’s POV

The house was silent now. The pups had all gone to sleep, the last of the kibble cleaned up, the lights dimmed. Dylan lay in his spot near the window, staring out into the quiet night.

Sleep wouldn’t come.

He rolled over onto his side, then onto his back, then flopped face-first into his pillow. No use. His mind kept turning back to Danny, to the sight of him walking off into the dark by himself.

It wasn’t like this was the first time Dylan had seen a stray come and go. The neighborhood had plenty. A few would pass through, grab a meal, share a story, and then move on. He’d never thought twice about it before. They lived how they wanted to live. It wasn’t his business.

But this time felt different.

Danny wasn’t just another stray. He looked like them. Like one of the family. Spotted fur, same build, even had that goofy, slightly crooked grin Dylan recognized in a few of his younger siblings. When Danny laughed, it sounded like home. And when he sat with them at dinner, it hadn’t felt weird. It hadn’t felt like they were making room for an outsider. It felt right.

And now he was out there, in some alley or under a bridge or wherever it was he called home, alone.

Dylan grumbled and rolled over again.

Why was it bugging him so much?

Maybe it was because Danny looked like one of them. Or maybe it was because Danny was fun. Or maybe — and this was the part Dylan didn’t want to admit — maybe it was because it was unfair. Because Dylan had a warm bed, a safe house, food every night, and a giant family to argue and play with. And Danny had none of that.

It hadn’t bothered him before. Not really. He’d seen strays and scruffy loners come and go his whole life. It was just how things were. But now, for some reason, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

About how Danny had smiled when he was invited to dinner.

About how the pups had begged him to stay.

About how Danny had hesitated at the door.

Dylan sat up with a groan, rubbing his face. “Ugh, what is wrong with me?” he muttered.

He glanced across the room at his sleeping siblings, peaceful and safe, curled up in piles and nests of blankets. He thought about Danny alone in the cold, maybe curled up in a cardboard box or trying to find a dry spot under a leaky awning.

It wasn’t like it was Dylan’s responsibility. Danny had said he was fine. He probably had a system, like he claimed. Maybe even liked the freedom of it.

But that image wouldn’t go away.

Dylan flopped back down, pressing his paws to his face.

“Stupid guilty conscience,” he grumbled.

He wasn’t sure when he finally drifted off, but when he did, it was with a heavy, unsettled heart.

————ᕙ[･۝･]ᕗ————

The next morning arrived sooner than Dylan would have liked. The house was filled with the usual chaos: pups racing around, someone complaining about who took their favorite toy, and Delilah trying to get everyone organized enough to head to the park for a morning run. Dylan had barely gotten any sleep, his thoughts weighed down by Danny and the image of him disappearing into the cold night.

He tried to shake it off as he herded a group of his younger siblings together. “Alright, everyone, single file! No shoving! Dimitri Two, stop biting Dimitri One’s tail!”

The street outside was calm in comparison to the noise behind him. The early morning sun cast long, lazy shadows on the pavement, and the familiar hum of the city waking up made the neighborhood feel alive. Dylan glanced down the road, still unable to completely stop himself from looking for a familiar scruffy figure.

And then, like clockwork, he spotted him.

Danny.

He was a little ways down the street, hunched near a storefront. At first, Dylan thought maybe he was digging through trash for breakfast, but it quickly became clear that Danny wasn’t even trying. He was just kind of… there. Kicking at a loose pebble, staring into a store window with a bored look on his face.

————ᕙ[･۝･]ᕗ————

Back to my POV now.

I let out a sigh, rubbing the back of my neck as I stared through the dusty glass of the bakery window. A few half-stale pastries sat on the display tray, and once upon a time, those would've made my morning. Now, though? It all felt… boring.

I’d done this routine too many times.

Scavenge through back alleys, sneak food when no one was looking, dodge the occasional broom-wielding shopkeeper. It had been exciting once. A thrill. Now it was just habit. And the weird part was, after hanging out with Dylan and his family last night, the whole thing felt even duller than usual.

I huffed and turned away from the window. Nothing interesting today. No daring snack heists. No abandoned bakery boxes worth risking my tail for. It was like the whole neighborhood had decided to be boring at once.

So I did what any self-respecting stray would do: I put on my best hungry face and wandered down the street.

Not because I was hungry—I wasn’t. I’d actually scored pretty well last night after I left Dylan’s place. A couple of leftover fish sticks from the diner’s back alley, a half-eaten sausage roll some kid dropped… I was good.

But you’d be surprised what kind of free stuff you could get just by looking pitiful.

I made my way down the block, tail drooping, eyes wide and soulful. It didn’t take long before an older lady stepped out of a café and spotted me.

“Oh, you poor dear,” she cooed, crouching down and scratching behind my ears.

Bingo.

Before I knew it, she was offering me a dog biscuit from her purse. I took it, naturally. Not because I needed it, but because it was there.

The next guy—a delivery worker—ruffled my head and gave me half his sandwich. I pretended to act like it was the best thing I’d ever tasted, tail wagging furiously, tongue lolling out.

And so it went. A pat here, a snack there. I was on a roll.

Something about it triggered this old, instinctive part of my puppy brain. The part that wasn’t street-smart was Danny the adrenaline junkie, but also… a dog. The part that loved head pats and tail wags, and ear scratches. That person forgot about scavenging and personal systems and just wanted to chase leaves.

By the time late morning hit, I was practically drunk on attention.

And then it happened.

Just as I was trotting along, head still fuzzy from the last head rub, something caught my eye. A flash of movement in the corner of my vision.

A squirrel.

I don’t even remember making the decision. One second I was me, and the next I was all instinct.

Squirrel!

I bolted, charging across the street after the little streak of fur. I heard someone call my name—maybe Dylan, maybe someone else—but it barely registered. My world narrowed to that tiny, fast creature.

I zig-zagged around a lamppost, dodged a couple of startled pedestrians, and drifted around a corner.

The squirrel darted up a tree, and I sat at the base, staring and barking up at it, tail wagging furiously.

I didn’t even care that I’d lost it. The chase was what mattered.

I flopped onto my side in the grass with a contented sigh.

Yeah. Maybe life wasn’t so bad after all.

————ᕙ[･۝･]ᕗ————

Back to Dylan’s POV

Dylan groaned as he watched Danny take off like a rocket, paws skimming across the sidewalk with ridiculous speed and enthusiasm. "You gotta be kidding me!" he shouted, throwing a quick glance back at the group of pups he’d been wrangling all morning. There were at least six of them, all bouncing with energy, and Dylan had been doing his best to keep them from chewing the furniture or each other.

“DYLAN!” came Dolly’s shriek from behind him, shrill and unmistakably furious. “You leaving me with ALL OF THEM?! Are you KIDDING ME?!”

“You can handle it!” he shouted back, already sprinting down the sidewalk after Danny, who had just rounded the corner and vanished out of sight.

A cacophony of giggles and chaotic barking erupted behind him. Dylan didn't even turn around—he knew what it looked like. A spotted cloud of fur, teeth, and yapping voices descended upon poor Dolly like a whirlwind. She’d survive. Probably.

'What the heck is wrong with that dog?' Dylan thought as he ran, weaving past a food cart and narrowly dodging a stroller. He barely had time to breathe as he zig-zagged through the crowd, skidding past a bicyclist who shouted at him to watch where he was going. Dylan winced and waved a quick apology. Not that the guy understands.

'Where did he even learn to run like that?' Danny wasn’t even from around here. He was a stray, new to the neighborhood, new to—well, everything. Yet somehow, he ran like he belonged to the streets. Like he knew every crack in the sidewalk, every shortcut, every alley. Dylan had grown up here and still couldn’t keep up.

He’s even faster than Delgado, he admitted, a little begrudgingly. Delgado had always been the standard when it came to speed, the one pup nobody could catch in a footrace. But Danny? Danny ran like there was no finish line—just wind and paws and the thrill of movement.

They turned another corner, and Dylan finally caught a glimpse of that spotted tail up ahead, bouncing like a flag.

“DANNY!” he barked, but it was useless.

Danny didn't stop.

Didn’t even look back.

'What is he even chasing?' Dylan wondered.

They bolted past traffic lights, crossed the street (thankfully during a red light), and darted down a narrow alley. Dylan nearly slipped, his paws skidding against the slick concrete, but he caught himself and kept going. His lungs burned, but he pushed through.

Finally, they emerged from the alley, and the familiar iron-wrought gates of the park loomed ahead.

Danny bounded through without hesitation, shooting straight onto the open grass like a bullet. Dylan was only seconds behind him.

Danny skidded to a sudden stop at the base of a huge oak tree and began barking wildly up into the branches.

Dylan slowed to a halt, chest heaving. His legs trembled as he caught his breath. “Seriously? A tree?”

He looked up at the canopy, squinting against the sun. Maybe a squirrel? A bird? Maybe just a really interesting leaf?

“Great,” Dylan muttered, glancing back at the path behind them. The sun was noticeably higher now, casting long shadows on the grass. In the distance, across the park’s field, he could just barely see Dolly and the pups already there—running, tumbling, shouting. So much for a quiet afternoon.

Danny’s barking hadn’t let up. His tail wagged furiously, ears perked, nose twitching.

“Danny!” Dylan called out, lifting a paw and waving it like that would help. “Hey—HEY!”

No response.

“Danny, snap out of it!” he yelled.

At last, Danny blinked like waking from a trance, his head jerking slightly. He turned, tongue lolling out and mouth hanging open with a line of drool threatening to fall.

“Oh… uh…” Danny mumbled. He quickly wiped his mouth with a foreleg and tried to play it cool, sitting down like that was the plan all along. “Hey. Uh, what’s up?”

Dylan stared at him for a long moment. He was annoyed, sure—but mostly tired. “You—you can’t just take off like that.”

Danny blinked again, visibly confused. “Uh. Okay.” He tilted his head. “Wait, how did I get here?”

Dylan rubbed his face with both paws. “Yeah…”

They stood there in silence for a beat, the breeze rustling through the trees. A bird fluttered overhead. Somewhere across the park, a pup shrieked in glee.

Then, just like that, the tension broke. Danny leaped to his feet and chased a butterfly that had dared to pass by his snout. Dylan let out a breathy chuckle and followed him, lazily trotting through the grass.

For the next hour, they stayed in the park.

No destination. No schedule.

They chased butterflies like idiots. Played tug-of-war with a half-broken stick. Laid on their backs in the sun and watched clouds shift shapes—pointing out imaginary dragons, sandwiches, and once, a rather convincing elephant with sunglasses.

Danny talked about the time he’d tried to sneak into a bakery and accidentally got stuck in a bread delivery truck for six hours. Dylan talked about the pups, and how he swore they were forming some kind of cult.

Danny laughed so hard he fell over.

It was nice. Easy.

It didn’t happen often.

They circled the park three full times without even realizing it, feet moving on autopilot. Somewhere along the way, their conversation drifted to nothing in particular—games, food, the annoying pigeon that kept circling them like it had a personal vendetta. Then they were walking in silence, not because they ran out of things to say, but because they didn’t need to speak.

By the time they reached the edge of the park, the familiar sidewalk leading to Dylan’s street came into view. And there, on the front lawn, were the pups.

A rolling, chaotic storm of fur, laughter, and grass stains. One of them was climbing a hedge. Another had a stick in their mouth twice their size. Two were mid-wrestle, while the others were circling Dolly like she was prey.

Dylan sighed.

“Ah, crud,” he muttered, pausing at the edge of the walkway. “I gotta wrangle them again.”

“Duty calls,” Danny said with a mock salute, tail wagging.

“Yeah.” Dylan rubbed the back of his neck. “Hey… thanks for hanging out.”

Danny tilted his head, ears flicking. “Anytime.”

The moment lingered for a second. Danny looked like he wanted to say something more but didn’t. Maybe he was waiting for Dylan to say something. Dylan wasn’t sure.

And then…

“Hey, Mr. and Mrs. D!” Danny barked suddenly.

Dylan’s head turned and saw them—his parents—strolling up the street with grocery bags in paw. His mom, Delilah, offered a soft smile and waved.

“Good to see you, Danny. Staying for dinner again?”

Danny shook his head, stepping back. “Nope!”

Just like that, he grinned, turned, and bolted down the sidewalk.

Dylan watched him go, watched the tail that had outrun him all day vanish down the street. He didn’t look away until Danny turned the corner and disappeared.

“See ya,” Dylan muttered quietly.

And the moment the words left his mouth, he felt it—a small twist in his chest. Something like sadness. But not quite. Just the strange weight of something in my chest.

He stood there a few seconds longer.

Then the pups tackled him.

————ᕙ[･۝･]ᕗ————

Danny's POV 

I finally made it back to my shack.

My paws dragged through the pavement like they weighed a hundred pounds each. Every step felt like wading through molasses, and I swear my tail had given up and was just trailing behind me like a loose wire. The tarp door whooshed as I shoved it open with my head. The scent of freshly stolen goods and dust greeted me—familiar, oddly comforting, and slightly moldy. Home sweet home.

With a grunt, I flopped onto the plushies by the heater, let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, and stared at the crooked ceiling for a full minute. My brain buzzed from exhaustion. My legs were sore, my ears hurt, and I think I had a leaf stuck to my left rear paw. S

Eventually, my stomach started to whine like a neglected harmonica. So, I dragged myself into the kitchen—or, well, the space I called a kitchen, which was just a makeshift stove, cans of dog food, and a single "clean enough" bowl I’d been eating at since last week.

I popped open a can of the good dog food—you know, the chunky kind with "real meat" on the label (probably lies, but whatever). I plopped it into a bowl, gave it a few seconds in the microwave, and watched it spin like it was the most fascinating thing I’d ever seen. The smell hit me hard—meaty, savory, comforting in a weird, artificial kind of way. Honestly? Not bad.

I scarfed it down in under two minutes and licked the bowl clean, then half-heartedly cleaned my face with a paw before collapsing onto the soft blankets in the corner.

I didn’t even get under the blanket. Just flopped. Dead-weight. Done.

My eyes drooped fast, my body sinking into that warm, heavy fog of sleep. I was tired. Not just from today, but from yesterday. And probably the day before that, too.

Such is the life when you're a cartoon dog, I guess.

Some dogs have it easy. Fancy collars. Daily walks in the park. A human who gives them treats for just existing.

Me?

I sleep in a shack in an alleyway and occasionally get chased by security guards, angry shop owners, or worse—Children.

The dream started hazy.

At first, I thought I was in a closet. Then I realized it wasn’t a closet—it was a shipping container. The walls were metal, the air was thick, and everything had that weird echoey silence you only hear in giant, empty places. Something about it felt... wrong.

My fur prickled, my nose twitched. There was this heavy, choking sense of dread in the air. Like the walls were holding their breath, waiting for something to happen. My heart thumped in my chest. My tail curled tight around my leg without me meaning to.

I took a step forward, but the floor beneath me felt unstable. Like walking on a trampoline that might give way at any second.

Then—BANG!

The container doors burst open with a groaning, metallic screech, and blinding light flooded in, making me reel back.

I squinted, shielding my eyes, but the light wasn’t sunlight. It was too sterile. Too white. Like staring into a fluorescent lightbulb the size of a football field.

And just like that—POOF—I wasn’t in the container anymore.

I was in a spaceship.

No explanation. No warning. Just boom, spaceship.

I blinked and looked around.

The interior looked like something out of an animated sci-fi film: chrome walls, flickering panels, floating holograms, blinking lights, and a faint hum that vibrated through my paws. It felt like the whole place was alive and slightly annoyed.

Standing around me was a crew—a literal animal crew.

There was a tall, stern-looking German Shepherd in a flight suit, barking orders to nobody in particular.

A Siamese cat, lazily typing away at a console like she was bored out of her mind.

An iguana that was chugging an entire pot of coffee.

A crow—or maybe a raven—hovered above us, wings barely flapping, grumbling about the wires not being organized.

And then, there was a rabbit.

He stood just behind me, his ears twitching, a goofy grin stretched across his face. His space suit had a crypto patch on one sleeve and several mystery stains on the other.

I opened my mouth to ask what the heck was going on, but before I could say anything, he tapped me on the shoulder.

"Better wear a seatbelt, pal!" he chirped.

Then, without another word, he slammed his fist onto a giant red button right beside us.

The ship lurched forward violently.

I shot backward like a ragdoll, tail flailing, ears flapping, and spine pressed against the padded chair behind me. Stars blurred outside the viewports as the ship accelerated to lightspeed or something like it. My face was stuck in a permanent scream as gravity vanished and reality bent sideways.

I couldn’t even scream right. My jowls were flapping too hard.

And then—

I woke up.

Falling.

Heart pounding.

Paws clutching the air.

I landed back on my mattress with a muffled THUD, limbs tangled in the blanket I forgot I had. My fur stood on end. My breathing was erratic.

I hate waking up like that. That awful feeling of falling when you’re not. That second of sheer terror followed by pure confusion.

I rubbed my eyes, ears drooping.

My shack was quiet. Dim sunlight crept in through the crooked blinds. The heater gave a lazy hum in the background.

Just a dream. Just a weird, stupid, hyper-realistic dream with space rabbits and exploding buttons and—

I groaned, dragging a paw down my face.

Then it hit me.

Cruella.

Oh right.

That’s still a thing.

That woman and her little minion would be a pain in my tail in the future.

But that wasn’t today’s problem.

"Eh… that's future me’s problem," I muttered sleepily.

I rolled over and buried my face into the pillow, letting sleep take me once more.