This is an idea I've been tooling around with for years, but the timing just never seemed right until now. For those of you following my other projects, this one should be relatively short; only about 3-5 chapters long. After I finish this, I'll probably go back to working on either "Yin Yang" or "Claw, Horn and Fang"; whichever feels right at the time. Anyway, 101 Dalmatian Street is loosely inspired by a book by Dodie Smith and is the property of Disney. With that said, Enjoy.

Chapter 1

In nature, one of the most important milestones in any young creature's life is the day when said creature leaves the relative comfort and safety of their parents' home and ventures out into the world to try and make it on their own. Every species, be they man, beast, fish, etcetera, has their own unique take on this essential rite of passage. Many birds push their young chicks out of the nest as soon as their feathers are fully developed; often resulting in them landing headfirst into the sidewalk. Traditionally, humans try to strike off on their own sometime after their eighteenth birthday, however this tradition is more of a suggestion than an ironclad rule. Why, there are even some species that devour their parents as soon as they're born, but the less said about them the better.

Anyway, regardless of how these fledglings leave their respective nests, the common denominator between them all is that they are almost never in complete control of when they actually do it. More often than not, they are subject to outside forces; such as instincts, traditions, the weather, the economy and in the case of a certain young canine, forces that defy scientific understanding.

But alas, I am getting ahead of myself.

Our story begins in London, Camden Town to be exact, sometimes referred to as the Alternative Culture District. Formerly an important industrial site in the early development of British railways, the area has since been transformed into a bustling center for tourism thanks to its thriving street markets and entertainment venues. In the heart of this haven for artists, musicians and humble street hawkers, there sat an innocent looking dog park, and much like everything else in Camden, it was abuzz with activity.

"BOW WHACKA WOW!" exclaimed a young dalmatian bitch astride her trusty skateboard as she swerved past humans and other dogs with a grace and precision that can only come from years of practice.

This, dear readers, is Dolly. One of the two eldest siblings in a most unusual family of canines, but that is neither here nor there. What matters is that pretty much all of her life up to this point, Dolly had never once questioned who she was or where she belonged. She was Dolly, the fun-loving rebel counterpart to her fastidious and detail oriented brother Dylan, who lived with their parents and 97 other siblings at 101 Dalmatian Street, and she honestly never imagined herself wanting to be anyone else; with the exception of that one time she wanted to be a show dog, but that's a whole other story.

However, this was all about to change.

For better or worse, I leave that up to you.

At any rate, Dolly was having a simply marvelous time riding her beloved skateboard through the park. In fact, she was enjoying herself so much that she failed to notice a particularly large rock in her way until it had already gotten caught in one of her wheels, causing her to lose her balance and land face first into a nearby flowerbed.

CRASH!

"Dolly!" exclaimed the familiar voice of her brother and fellow alpha. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah…" she replied as she stood up and tried to shake off her daze. "I'm good."

"Good, now if you're done fooling around, we have a crisis to deal with." Dylan said, his demeanor quickly switching from concerned sibling to control freak.

As her vision unblurred, Dolly took a moment to take in her surroundings and see exactly what 'crisis' Dylan was yowling about. She saw their younger brother Diesel digging holes a short distance away. She saw their younger sister Davinci working on one of her latest masterpieces over by the benches. And she saw the triplets, Destiny, Dallas and Déjà vu, aka Triple D, taking selfies over by the big horse statue. All in all, everything seemed normal.

"Yeah… I don't get it."

"Allow me to explain." Interjected their brother Dawkins, acting in his usual role as assistant and analyst. "We need to heading home soon, preferably within the next twenty to twenty-five minutes, but after an exhaustive headcount we appear to be missing three pups, and the clock is ticking."

Upon hearing this, Dolly let out a lite chuckle. She should've known it'd be something like this.

"Seriously? That's you're crisis?" she asked with amused disbelief. "I mean yeah, we definitely need to find whoever's missing before they get lost or hurt or whatever, but that's no reason to get all freaked out. They're probably just playing in some bushes somewhere where you can't see them. And anyway, what's with all this ticking clock stuff? So the pups might be a few minutes late for lunch, it won't be pretty, but it's not the end of the world."

"I'm not talking about lunch, Dolly. I'm talking about animal control." Dylan replied sternly. "It's the last day of the month, which means a lot of those guys are gonna be scrambling to meet their quotas, which also means that some of them are probably gonna net first and ask questions later. So I'd rather not have our brothers and sisters out in public today any longer than we have to."

Dolly hated to admit it, but Dylan had a fair point. Humans had some weird hang-ups about dogs walking the streets without them. When she was younger she'd always chalked it up to jealousy, but now she knew it went deeper than that. There were actual laws against dogs and other animals roaming the streets without humans, and while they were easy enough for her family to skirt most of the time, London's animal control officers really turned up the heat when their quotas came due.

"Okay, fair enough." She admitted, albeit begrudgingly. "So who's missing?"

"DJ, Deepak and Dante." Dawkins replied, seemingly on a reflex.

"Well, at least those three shouldn't be too hard to spot. So let's just look over here and…"

SQUEEEEAAAKKKK!

"Why don't you watch where your goin', you stupid git!" shouted a familiar voice from beneath Dolly's left front paw. Looking down, she saw that said paw had accidentally pinned down an equally familiar rat covered in tattoos. It was Big Fee, one of the Canal Crew, a group of local hooligans who also happened to be close friends with her brother Dylan.

"Oh… sorry about that, Big Fee. Didn't see you there." The young bitch said apologetically as she lifted her paw off the fat rat's ribcage.

"Too little, too late." The tattooed rodent said bitterly as she brushed herself off. "In fact, just for that, you're officially uninvited to my wedding."

"Wedding? Wait, you're getting married?" Dolly asked confusedly. "I didn't even know you had a boyfriend."

"Well… technically I don't." Big Fee admitted. "But Old Tom says I'm due to meet Mr. Right sometime this year. So if you wanna be a bridesmaid, you'd best start sucking up to me now."

Naturally, Dolly had no idea what the rat was talking about, and judging from the looks on their faces, her brothers were just as lost as she was. Fortunately, this confusion didn't last long. For the other members of the Canal Crew, Sid and Fergus, soon arrived on the scene.

"Dolly, what's shakin'?" said Fergus Fox in that swaggering Ulster accent he was known for. "Dawkins, lookin' good. D-Dog, what's happenin', bro?"

"Hey, Ferg." Dylan replied, giving his friend an obligatory paw-bump. "Sorry, but we can't hang right now. We're in the middle of a crisis. Dante, DJ and Deepak are missing and it's the end of the month so the heat from animal control is gonna be way up and…"

"Whoa. Chill man, I know where they are." The foxy rake said casually. "I just saw them over by Old Tom's place like a minute ago. And anyway, you've got nothing to worry about. Old Tom says animal control won't come anywhere near here for another hour."

"I'm all but certain I'm going to regret asking you this, but who or what is an 'Old Tom'?" Dawkins asked bluntly.

"He's this old shorthair who blew into town a couple weeks ago." Fergus explained. "Says he's like an 'immortal familiar', whatever that means. He's got a tent set up over that way where folks come to hear about their futures."

"Seriously? A fortuneteller?" Dylan asked annoyedly. "Please don't tell me you actually believe in that stuff."

"Last month I would've said heck no, but the old codger gave me a freebie on where to meet vixens in North London and since then I've had more hot dates than hot meals. Plus, he gave Sid the lowdown on where to score some primo Brazil nuts."

"Oy! Shut up!" said the little squirrel, sounding just as tweaked out as ever.

"Wait, did you say freebie?" asked Dolly concernedly. "As in, this guy normally charges people?"

"And how." Big Fee jumped back in. "I had to part with twelve of my best shinies to get my last reading. Totally worth it though."

"Ugh. Well that's just great." The young bitch groaned in exasperation. "Dylan…"

"I know, I know." Her brother replied, sounding just as concerned and irritated. "We've gotta deal with this guy before he cons our brothers out of who knows what. Fergus, thanks for the info, I owe you one. Dawkins, you watch the pups while Dolly and I take care of this."

"Oh, Kibbles." The younger dalmatian cursed under his breath.

And with that, the two eldest siblings went off to avert a potential disaster, but not before their foxy friend gave them one last heads-up.

"Better be careful, mates. Old Tom's crazy, but he's sharp as a tac, and so are his teeth."

XXX

In spite of all the hype, Old Tom's place was quite underwhelming. Really it was just an old beige pop-up tent set up by the shore of the park's rather large pond. The only thing that made it stand out was the steady plume of strange smelling smoke billowing out the top; suggesting that the owner had cut a hole in the roof for this specific purpose. At any rate, despite its remarkably unremarkable appearance, the tent seemed to be quite the hotspot; as numerous animals of various species were congregating around the outside.

As Dylan and Dolly arrived on the scene, they recognized a few of the faces in the crowd. To their far left they saw their younger brother Dante conversing with Portia Poodle and Spenser the 'Sausage Dog'.

"The universe has spoken and the future is bleak. As I suspected all along." Said the goth dalmatian in a strangely satisfied tone.

"Marvelous." Replied Portia dryly.

While over on their far right they saw their other brother Deepak chatting it up with his 'sensei' Constantin; the old Asian cat who lived next door.

"But you simply must speak with him." Deepak said to his mentor with a tone of excited urgency. "His methods are strange, but his wisdom is on par with that of the Great Guru Miaow."

"He sounds… interesting, young one." Constantin replied calmly. "But as the Great Guru Miaow once said, 'never confuse wisdom with charisma'."

So far so good.

Dante and Deepak both seemed fine, but that didn't quite alleviate their worries. Obviously this Old Tom was some kind of con artist, and while the three dalmatians here were, in theory, smart enough to not let this shady character take them for too much, their other much younger siblings, like Dizzy and Deedee, were another matter entirely. The youngest of their clan were far too easy to manipulate. The wrong trigger word at the wrong time could send them into an uncontrollable frenzy. Plus, being mere children, they were prone to taking things at face value and believing anything they heard no matter who they heard it from. It would be all too easy for a charismatic conman to lead them astray and make them do all sorts of awful things. That's why it was imperative for the two alphas to nip this in the bud.

It was at this point that the duo noticed their brother DJ stepping out of the tent; coughing, presumably from all the smoke, but otherwise unharmed.

"DJ!" they both cried as they rushed over to check on him.

"Oh, hey guys." The young pup said casually to his elder siblings. "What's happenin'?"

"DJ, quick! What happened? What did you give this guy? What did he ask for?" Dylan asked frantically; most of his words clearly going over DJ's head.

"He wants to know what Old Tom charged you for his prediction." Dolly translated in a much calmer tone.

"Oh, okay." The younger pup replied. "Well, Dante gave him an old silver chain he found and I think Deepak gave him a squeaky mouse or something. But he said I had an interesting aura, so I got my reading for free."

"Phew. Oh, thank Dog." Dylan said, breathing a sigh of relief, before assuming a more authoritative stance. "Dolly, I think it's time we had a little talk with this so-called 'Old Tom'."

"You're not gonna get all… Dylan on him, are you?" DJ asked in a tone that was only slightly disrespectful. "I mean, Old Tom's a bit of a nutter, but he's not dangerous. And besides, all his mumbo jumbo gave me some great inspiration for this set I've been working on."

"Don't worry, DJ. We're just gonna talk to him and make sure he doesn't take any of this ooga booga stuff too far." Dolly said reassuringly. "Now you go get Dante and Deepak and go meet up with the others. This won't take long"

And with that, the two elder sibs left their brother and walked straight into the mysterious tent.

Once inside, they were both hit by a sudden attack of sensory overload. The smell coming off the strange smoke was so potent inside the tent that it was the nasal equivalent to a punch in the face. Fortunately, this only lasted for about a minute and once their noses adjusted their other senses returned as well.

Before them sat the unmistakable form of Clarissa Corgi; their spoiled, obnoxious and if we're being totally honest, heavyset neighbor with whom they often quarreled. But she hadn't noticed them however, for her gaze was fixed solely on the strange looking fire coming from what appeared to be a small, portable hibachi grill. On the opposite side, there sat an old European Shorthair; fur as black as pitch, save for a single white spot on his chest, and eyes like dark emeralds. Old Tom, they presumed.

"Yes… I see it now." The black cat said in a deep and almost ethereal voice. "You will die of overconsumption within the next 18 months."

"What?" Clarissa replied, sounding deeply offended, as she often did. "But… but you didn't even look into the fire!"

"I didn't need to." Old Tom said mockingly. "Now begone with you. I have other clients waiting."

"Now wait just a moment, you can't do this to…"

But Old Tom was having none of that. Before Clarissa could even get midway through her tirade, the black shorthair leaned forward and let out a blood chilling HISS; showing the pampered corgi and the two dalmatians that, as Fergus had said, his teeth were indeed very shard.

While spoiled and thoroughly unpleasant to be around, Clarissa was no fool. So rather than stick around to get her throat shredded, she silently walked away in a disgusted huff; which is usually how she left any room.

"So sorry to keep you waiting, my young friends." Old Tom said to his new guests as he gave them both the once over. "Hmmm… Such fascinating auras. My dear, you're like someone shoved a firecracker up a kaleidoscope and then threw it into a bug zapper and then placed the resulting explosion on four dotty legs. And you my lad, you're like a ball of lightning from above the Sargasso pounded into the shape of a canine with silver hammers. Oh yes~ I could read you two all night, and most of the next morning."

"Uh… right." Dylan replied confusedly. "So I take it you're Old Tom?"

"That's what they call me." The black cat said with a toothy grin. "Thomas T Tildrum. Thomas, after my late father. T for Tiberius. Tildrum is a name I made up myself. But for simplicity's sake, Old Tom will suffice."

"Yeah…" said Dolly, not really sure how to respond to any of that. "Look, man. We know you're new in town, so you probably don't know this, but we…"

"Oh, I'm not new here. In fact, I was born in London. It's my one and only home." The black cat interrupted casually. "Oh, I leave it from time to time, either out of necessity or just to stretch my legs, but I always come back eventually. My last trip took me to Ireland, where I stayed in the Court of King Brian. Oh, what strong spirits the Little People have. His Majesty offered me a glass of his favorite whiskey the first night I stayed there and when I finally sobered up six weeks ago the Blitz was over and it was safe to come home."

"Wait, the Blitz? As in the London Blitz?" Dylan asked dryly. "That happened in 1940. You don't seriously expect us to believe you're over 80 years old, do you?"

"Of course not. I'm much older than that." Old Tom said boastfully. "I was born in 1496, in the house of Hugh Clopton, Lord Mayor of London. In fact, it was on the same night that he died. Perhaps that's significant."

'Fergus was right, this guy is crazy.' Dolly thought to herself derisively. 'But he doesn't seem bad, I guess. Maybe we can work something out.'

"Listen, Tommy Boy." She said to the feline in a pleasant tone. "You spoke to a couple of our brothers earlier and…"

"Ah yes, DJ, Dante and Deepak." Old Tom interrupted yet again. "Splendid fellows, and such fascinating auras. Oh, then that must make you Dylan and Dolly. Pleasure to meet you both. Just an absolute pleasure."

"Yeah… ditto." Dylan replied awkwardly. "And speaking of our brothers, that's actually what we wanted to talk to you about. You see…"

"I already know what you're going to ask." The black cat interrupted for the third time. "Dear DJ already informed me about your rather large family and the answer is yes. I do give group discounts."

"Discounts? What the… no!" Dylan replied annoyedly. "We want you to keep your phony fortune telling scam far away from our fam!"

"I beg your pardon?" Old Tom said, sounding insulted.

"Look, Dude, we get it." Dolly interjected. "You live on the street, the rules are different out here and you have to do whatever you can to survive. But we're telling you to go do it somewhere else. We're not just gonna stand by and let some smooth-talking sleazebag take advantage of our little siblings… again."

"Am I to understand that you two are accusing me, Tom Tildrum, he who was once known as the King of All Cats, of being some mere con artist?" the old shorthair asked venomously. "How dare you! How dare you, with your limited experience, presume to understand my methods or my intensions. I have lived for centuries and gone by a thousand names. I dined with sorcerers, fay and demons, and witnessed sights far beyond your meager comprehensions."

"Oh, get over yourself." Dylan said dismissively. "I'm all for roleplaying, but this is just stupid. Everyone knows magic doesn't really exist."

"Bah! And what does a mere child know?" Old Tom said sharply before launching headfirst into a longwinded speech. "I am Tom Tildrum, Cat of a Thousand Lives! I sat by the fire while Baldwin wrote his masterpiece and I had front row seats to Chaloner's row with Newton. I saw men turned to flotsam aboard the Britannic and I hunted rats below the deck of the Queen Anne's Revenge. I was in the bungalow when Rikki bit the cobra's neck and in the hut when Livingstone met Stanley. I stalked the streets of Whitechapel during the time of Leather Apron and I cooked sardines on Pudding Street the night of the fire. I even served as familiar to both John Dee and the Great Beast himself. You couldn't even begin to understand me."

By the time he had finished, Old Tom was panting like he'd run a double marathon. The old windbag clearly wasn't as young as he used to be, but he put on one heck of a show.

"But no matter." He said after eventually catching his breath. "I have no desire to make enemies today. So if you two are so insistent that I should go, then I shall go."

"Seriously?" Dylan asked dumbfoundedly.

"Wow, that was easy." Added Dolly.

"But only on one condition." Old Tom continued with a toothy smirk. "You two possess the most vibrant and fascinating auras I've seen since my return. Allow me to read them and divine your futures, right here and now, completely free of charge, and I will gladly move my operation down to the docks, where your younger and more impressionable siblings will never find me. Does that sound fair to you?"

The two dalmatians exchanged looks and, through a skill developed over years of working together, they were able to read each other's expressions. On the one paw, this could be a trick. But on the other, it was possible, even likely, that Old Tom was insane enough to believe his own mumbo jumbo. So if he truly didn't see himself as a con artist then there was a good chance he would keep his word.

"If that's what it takes." Said Dylan reluctantly.

"Yeah, so bring on the mumbo jumbo." Dolly added confidently.

"Splendid. Splendid~" Old Tom replied, practically bubbling with excitement. "Oh~ I can feel it in my whiskers. This is going to be most enlightening~"

End Notes:

Before you say anything, yes, I know Dylan has a cat allergy, but European Shorthairs are hypoallergenic; I researched it and everything. So that's why he's not sneezing around Old Tom. Anyway, I hope this story does well because I've been sitting on it for a while. To anyone who actually read this thing, I hope you liked it and I'll see you in the next one.

Peace.