"Oi! Come back here you crazy mutt!" A gunshot rang out after those words. "Next time you come near my chickens, I'll see to it that you're skinned alive!"

Tramp smirked as he stayed hidden under a bridge- playing 'chase the chickens' and annoying the owner of said chickens always guaranteed a good time. He looked himself over quickly, not bothering to be too thorough. This was something he'd been doing since he was a mere puppy, the ear-piercing sound of the gunshot that rang out and the heat of the bullet that flew by, barely missing, whenever he made his escape was commonplace in his mind at that point. No amount of conceivable danger could stop him from experiencing the thrill that the activity brought him and so he did it over and over, some days because he was bored, other days because he felt an undeniable urge to do something mischievous. Suddenly he felt as if he had been sitting there for far too long. He stood and took off into a different part of town, there was always something to do, that was how things worked on the streets. Although, whereas most strays spent their time in search of food, Tramp never let the prospect of going hungry get to him, there was far too much for him to see and do, to allow himself to be distracted by lesser things. He'd been starved plenty of times before, if food didn't come his way, it didn't come his way.

"Tramp dearie!"

He almost tripped over his own paws, in the attempt to halt himself from the running that he had commenced only moments before. He spun around to where the sweet, familiar voice had come from.

"Trixie honey!" The mutt greeted, walking towards his girlfriend with all the confidence in the world, "It's been too long! I was starting to get the feeling that you were ghosting me, or something!"

Trixie giggled shyly, "No! I could never do that, you handsome devil."

"Well like I said it has been far too long. Why don't I get us some dinner? Tonight behind the pastry place?"

"Alright. I'll be there," She brushed her coat against his. Tramp half heartedly returned the gesture.

When she faced him again and tried to lick his muzzle, he backed up nervously, "N-now then-" He stuttered awkwardly through a bit of speech, but quickly readjusted the tone of his voice, "Let's save it for tonight, shall we?"

Tramp winked at her knowingly before she could say or do anything else.

He took off to see what else the streets held in-store for him that day. Trixie was a sweet girl, he couldn't deny it, but he couldn't really say that he loved the small dog. She was only his, because he didn't want anyone else to have her. He only ever said the things that he said, or did the things that he did, to keep her pleased. Dumping her couldn't come any sooner, once the deed was done, anyone could have her. It was something that he'd both been dreading and anticipating, but either way, found that it was simply necessary. They could have one last night together, but afterwards they would be finished. Not that he'd be doing it face-to-face, he had plenty of experiences with disgruntled dogs from the past, he knew things could get ugly fast. Just the thought of the name, 'Lulu', sent shivers up his spine. No, he would simply leave her while she slept in some dingy alley and she would wake up to hear all about how he had moved on. Things never stayed a secret in this town for long, especially when his name was thrown into any given conversation. It was really strange, he should have felt pretty bad, but the feeling never came. It was always the same when it came to woman, he'd meet them behind some alley, mess around with them for a month or two...or a few weeks and then dump them. To him there was just no sane reason to let one dog hold you in place. He associated himself with whoever he wanted to, whenever he wanted to, no questions asked.

Before he could think further of the dilemma with Trixie, he heard heavy, quick footsteps behind him. "There you are!" He crouched down threateningly and growled, not allowing the presence of a mere man holding a net to intimidate him, "Just got a call from Mr. Herring about you harassing his chickens again, good thing you didn't get far."

To anyone watching the situation may have looked ridiculous, what with a dogcatcher speaking to a gray mutt.

"Now just hold still and we'll-"

Tramp snapped at the man's feet and ran off when he took a step back. To say that the dogcatcher wasn't a big fan of him would be an understatement. Ever since he had first found himself alone on the streets, the man had done everything possible to send him to the pound. Tramp seemed to have a natural talent for avoiding that place, though. He'd ran from him so many times, on so many different occasions, that it never even struck him that he could ever possibly get sent to the pound, that was simply somewhere he would never catch himself being stuck in. After mostly just leading the dogcatcher in a circle for a while, he jogged away, only glancing behind to see the man bent over, heaving heavy breaths. A few profanities seeped from his mouth. The two dogs locked in the back of the man's vehicle caught his eyes next.

"Rags! Bozo! Long time no see," He swaggered up to the shut gate, "You boys sure look like you're in a spot of trouble."

Bozo growled at him, "Tramp! I'll kill you! I told you-"

Rags hit the scruffy dog over the head with a paw, silencing his aggressive ranting. He spoke in a deep voice, "Quiet down Bozo, in case you forgot, it's your fault that we're sitting in this cage, on the way to the pound," He cleared his throat, "Hello Tramp. A little help?"

"I don't know Rags, looks like someone would kill me if I opened this gate here," He said jokingly, "What's in it for me anyways?"

A small growl escaped Bozo's throat, but quickly died down when Rags shot him a death glare. After ensuring that Bozo would be quiet he turned back to Tramp, "Let's not drag this out anymore than we have to. Just tell me what you want already."

"Well, another one of those girls of yours' would be nice."

He sighed, "You did it again. Poor girl. Trixie isn't just a nice name, ya' know."

Tramp shrugged, "It's the way I do things."

"Yes...I suppose."

"So?"

"You got yourself a deal."

Almost effortlessly, Tramp knocked the peg that locked the gate into place, from it's seemingly secure position. The two dogs jumped out. Bozo looked down at his paws, saying nothing. Rags held a grateful look on his face, "Thanks Tramp. You can come by tomorrow, I'll point you in the right direction, okay?" There was only a hint of disappointment in his eyes and voice when he finished his sentence.

He nodded eagerly as both of the flea-covered dogs scampered off.

Sometimes he truly felt like a hero. Like the one the streets needed. These were his streets and he would protect them. No dogcatchers, scratch that, no humans would ever take that from him. There were reasons they called him the 'Tramp'. The Tramp. Apart from the obvious, it was simply a name that he had earned, a name that he worked a while to get. One that fell on him when he needed it most. It was a name that was known by all street dogs, far and wide.

A feeling of wildness coursed through him and he ran off down his streets, towards the busier parts of town, dare he say, his town. He ran straight into the butchers' and stole a sizeable piece of pork. All the yelling and chasing in the world couldn't wipe the smile off of his face. Most dogs would kill for a meal, like the one in his mouth, but he didn't need it. He tossed it aside to a nearby group of strays. The smile on his face grew wider when they shouted his name happily as he ran off, the butcher, the dogcatcher...the army. None of them could possibly be louder than his name being barked in every alley, on every street and in every other spot of the town.

"Tramp! Tramp! Tramp!"

"Tramp! Tramp! Wake up!"

Blearily, he blinked. Looking up, he saw Lady's worried face impatiently nudging him to wake up.

He sighed mentally, half out of annoyance and half out of tiredness. His heart was still racing from the dream that Lady had so unceremoniously woke him from. It was difficult to say whether it was actually a dream, or just a memory from a long time ago. Either way he found that he would much rather be in that place, running wildly on the streets, taking whatever he wanted, hearing his name being barked and hollered by every stray in the city, than here, under the gaze of a very worried Cocker Spaniel.

"Alright Pidge'," He rose up with a yawn, doing his best to ignore the bone-cracking pain that shot itself throughout his body, "What is it now?"

"Oh Tramp!" She was absolutely hysterical, "Collette and Angel have been missing all day! Danielle and Kilian say they haven't seen the two and we've looked everywhere! Jim Dear went to the pound to..."

Tramp blinked again, this time in a bored manner. His children running away seemed to be a common occurrence at this point. Maybe it was proof that he was a bad father. Proof that he was never cut out for parenthood in the first place.

"What are we going to do?" Lady was sobbing into his fur at this point, "How could we lose Collette?"

Without much care he nuzzled her, trying to stop the tears, "Listen Pidge' I-"

"Did you hear that?" She cut him off suddenly. He perked his ears up and could make out the sound of a car coming down their street, "It must be Jim Dear! Maybe he found them!" Lady took off.

Tramp didn't bother following her, he instead took the time to lay back down and try to fall asleep again. Perhaps then a dream or distant memory would come to him like before. Alas his efforts were proven to be in vain.

"Tramp!"

Before he could think to do anything else, his mate's troubled call rang from a different part of the house. Groaning in annoyance, he lifted himself up, slowly walking to where she had called him from. When he walked into the living room, his eyes caught Angels', as she was sat in front of Lady, supposedly explaining what had happened. She was halfway through her explanation when he walked in.

"...and so she and Trusty went after Stormé."

"Stormé?" He was already confused.

"This dog that Collette told me and no one else about..."

Tramp tuned his surroundings out, while Lady questioned Angel further. Frankly he wasn't in the mood for any of this. He was tired of having to be a responsible parent. He used to practically own the streets, now he had nothing to his name.

"Everett be careful!"

He looked up at his bigger sister, as she leapt from junk pile to junk pile. Every time she did so, he cringed with fear.

"C'mon Buddy! Loosen up a little!" Everett exclaimed while continuing to jump around, laughing as junk clattered over the floor.

He looked at his paws and shuffled them awkwardly. He winced every time Everett let out a yell of pure excitement, followed by the sound of a bottle breaking, or of a bag hitting the dusty floor. He felt miserable, couldn't understand why, or how his sister could be so happy. He wanted to cry. He took one long look at where they had been staying the past couple of weeks, a dirty, fly filled, junkyard. He hung his head downwards and sniffled.

"Everett! What did I tell you about jumping around like that!"

His sister stopped herself from jumping to the next pile at the sound of their mothers' stern voice.

"Come down from there right now!"

He looked on, as Everett ducked sheepishly, realizing how much trouble she was in and leapt down from the junkpile she had been standing on proudly, just a few moments before. He turned and walked away, not wanting to hear his sister get the scolding of a lifetime from their mother. He found an old, rotting cupboard, it's door entirely gone. Sadly he settled down in the corner of the thing, curling into himself as much as possible. Tears started to roll down his eyes, as his sniffing became more apparent. He shut his eyes, trying to force himself to sleep, but nothing came from the attempt.

"Gray?"

He curled up further, upon hearing his mother's voice, now gentle and soft.

"Oh Graayyyy..."

As sad as he felt, he couldn't help, but allow a small smile at the warm tone in his mother's voice.

"There you are!"

All the sadness left him when she attacked him with tickling nuzzles that made him laugh out loud.

"M-mom!" He spoke in between laughing, "Th-that t-tickles!"

Finally she stopped and gave him a more gentle nuzzle on top of his head, "Are you alright Gray?" She cooed.

The tickling from before made him want to say yes, but he quickly remembered that he didn't quite feel alright.

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"Why did our owners kick us out?" He paused, as if thinking of what to say next, "I thought you said that they loved us." Whenever he thought of their previous owners, it made him sad. He had only barely started getting used to his life, his house, when him, his mother and sister were driven far from the home he had still to explore, eventually ending up where they were now. "...take that dog out, he'll get fleas on the baby..." Those strange words still stuck themselves to his mind.

"Oh Gray, of course they loved us, but you see humans aren't exactly known for their loyalty. One day things will be the same as they are everyday and the next, they'll be too preoccupied with their own to spare us any attention."

He sighed, "But now we have to stay here."

Her voice took on a somber tone, as she drew him in close and gently nuzzled him, "Well, I suppose that when a baby moves in, the dog moves out."