Author's notes: Hello!

Thanks to everyone who took their time to read this on AO3 back in September, but also to all of you who are still sticking around here on FFN.

As you may or may not have known, I've decided back in late spring to remaster my still-ongoing story because of how sub-par in quality it started with. Thanks to the feedback y'all left throughout the year, this is the result I managed to accomplish so far.

Though it is not perfect in any way and I am aware that there is a whole lot that could be improved, I am very happy with how it turned out. I still kept a few bits from the old idea that I found were not that mediocre, so for you, old readers, this rewrite/remaster might or might not feel so exceptionally new in the long run.

Merry early Christmas and I hope you'll enjoy reading through this. Credit to my good buddy Skibidibopmmdada for the second cover art.

As of 16th of December, three chapters have been rewritten.

Chapter 1

Once upon a time - a time not that very long ago but one a little different from ours when people still used gaslight and when radio was once the latest trend - there existed off to the far West on the world chart this quaint and pleasant town they called New Haven.

Now, New Haven wasn't anything special by any means; just your run of the mill upper-middle class town with that New England flavor to it where some people lived the swanky, quiet life while others worked their backs for half-slice of loaf a day - not that different from how things run in our times. A simple town with simple people, with its good and bad sides like any other. Though, even a place as mundane as that one hid beneath itself some wonders and marvels.

"Would you want to see the king of animals, you'd go to the local zoo.

Peanut butter and jelly ain't cuttin' it anymore for breakfast? There's a street near the park with plenty of eateries from overseas.

Or you suppose you're one of those old fellows who've no idea what a motion picture is despite reading all about it in the newspapers. Well, lucky you; a moviehouse down the boulevard has just been opened to the public eye."

...and that's just during daytime. After the clock would tick its last tick for the day, the night would come unveiling a whole lot of different ventures.

There was this place where the old church once lain called Mary's Saloon. If you were old enough to drink, you were old enough for that. It pleased the eye but loosened the pocket. It welcomed those who went by the premise that "a lady's true beauty lies behind the dress," but no doubt - behind a hefty price too.

Yet you say your notion of a good time perhaps sat somewhere else. For that, there was Ronalds's Scottish gambling den - a bakery during the day. Gambling at its finest for that period. You'd see hands there swifter than those of Wild West's swiftest gunslingers.

And the people loved it; they loved their town and its hidden gems. The days were always lively, seldom were the nights unpleasant, and everyone lived happily in New Haven with the big or little they had. It was all nice and dandy, like a children's tale told at bedtime.

Except "nice and dandy," for some, was just a facade over what this kingdom of man really was.

For them, the zoo was like a prison that the humans would visit daily to have a laugh at their misfortune. It was the life-long punishment for a never-committed crime. The most crestfallen was the lion. Not a day would pass by without him roaring ashamed "How dare they imprison the king? Do they not know who I am?!" And he very much envied his relatives, the cats, for they could still roam the streets at will.

One time, a giraffe stretched her long spotted neck over the fence and saw two strange wolves snooping around the alligator's house. The elephant would also peek. "Those are dogs, not wolves." he'd clarify, swinging his trunk in dignity. His word was usually taken for granted, after all, the elephant was the smartest of the bunch when the apes were asleep. And the lion, as he envied the cats, he envied the dogs as much. "The lower class can walk free but not the king?!"

It wasn't that the dogs could walk free. Some were just clever enough to steer clear of authorities. They, too, had their own prison, and quite strange to the zoo inhabitants, it was somewhere else and only for dogs. And for a while, the animals wondered just what kind of dogs might there be in a zoo only for dogs. Maybe dogs with long legs or necks or both, or maybe even flying dogs. A true mystery.

The luckiest in the animal world was the bird at first glance. Yet even the birds had their own set of problems to fly away from and those came in large numbers, were hard as steel, and whizzed as they passed by with speeds even greater than that of a skilled falcon. No bird could tell what those were except that they sought only to bring harm. Each year, in fear they awaited their arrival time and time again whenever they'd hear men shouting, "it's hunting season, folks!"

And since the dawn of time, it has always been like this and never any different. The man was king and ruler over the animals and nobody was ever to oppose, for there was no way to stop man when he set out to do evil.

But on a fateful, rainy night, the tides of this ever-going battle were to turn over most unexpectedly. And had the owl that nested nearby not witness it all then, perhaps their act of courage would've gotten lost in time forever.

"Two dogs with courage more like a wolf's than a dog's, I do say!"

When the bad man was to send yet another stray dog to that zoo only for dogs, when no one else had the bravery to step in for him, there were two that bared their teeth and put paw forward, then to a fight of all fights they challenged the man and his cage on wheels deep into the dark of night. Across the muddy, gritty streets of the neighborhood they call Snob Hill would burst out a speedy chase worthy of even the greatest action blockbusters of our times. A historical moment for the animal kingdom was to happen and not for anything would the owl have missed it.

With a swift flap of wings, she chased right above them. In sick suspense, she watched the race with goggled eyes as of a lobster, and with her hoots she rooted hopeful for the two.

Near the outskirts, the gloomy building waited for the man and his team of horses. It sat sheltered from all the rest, like would the black sheep of a big family. The owl ventured there many times. She'd seen many dogs enter it but seldom she saw dogs exit.

And for it the cage ran fast but the dogs ran faster. They snarled and snapped and lashed out. For some time, it seemed the dogs were winning ground.

But something wasn't right, for the race ended too early. The owl knew; there were a dozen more yards before the cage would reach the destination.

Harsh sounds reached her ears all of a sudden. Her confidence scurried away in a flash. She longed to see but could only hear. A dense mist had been gathering that night.

In a short pitch, the owl gained the top of a nearby light post. Her eyes gaped in apprehension; there was a crash, the cage lay overturned. In less than a blink, more and more humans were swarming around. They were noisy and seemed angry. No doubt; it must be an ambush.

The dogs were outnumbered. Their race was run. She was certain; it was all over for them. They will never save their friend. And our owl tried. In a frenzy, yet to no avail, she rummaged in her head for a way to help.

But the worst had yet to come.

Within the crowd of people boomed a voice. It was a bossy voice, a you-must-do-as-I-say kind of voice. And no kidding; past said voice and past said crowd pushed through a roly-poly woman, I dare say, to match it perfectly. When she walked, everyone stepped aside. When she talked, everyone fell quiet. The human to rule them all.

One of the men called her "Aunt Sarah" and that she should wait. Wait, wait, Aunt Sarah, he said.

But Aunt Sarah was not to wait for anyone.

The owl sharply turned her head to check, and with a short gasp and fresh shock, fear crept through her feathers. The woman dragged after herself the cage master as if in a great rush. They hurried for the back of the cage where the dogs lay helpless.

No mistake; the queen of humans was to lay down punishment on the dogs.

The owl could look no longer. With a wing to cover the eyes, in dread, she waited and waited.

But as fine feathers make fine birds, so appearances are often deceiving.

The punishment never came.

Within the heart of the battleground echoed no scream but jolly barks and yaps and laughs. The owl peeked over her wing and in great surprise she drew in her breath. The cage door swung open, the dog was out and he seemed happy, as was the man that rubbed him behind the ears. He was the same man that told that Aunt Sarah to wait.

And the other humans; they walked away. They seemed to have been more concerned about the cage's condition than about the dogs which, not long ago, have become four dogs.

And our owl in deep confusion she dove. What was she to make out of this?

Where she sat by herself perked on top of the post, she struggled to put two and two together. There has been a fight, for that she was sure. The wrecked cage was the prime object of proof. But about the outcome, she was most doubtful. The queen of humans saved the dog from the evil man, yet it must have come to the merit of those two other dogs. After all, if it wasn't for them stoping the cage, maybe the man would have made coat out of their friend by now.

That must be it. The owl had come to a conclusion. It was foggy, it was uncertain but, for the first time since this town could remember it and for the whole world of animals, it was a victory. The first and perhaps the grandest one. By their paws, the evil man tasted defeat.

And of course that such an event wouldn't have lasted being unheard even for a moment. The news spread fast like a disease, a good disease.

Other owls that prowled nearby heard all about it.

The next morning, pigeons would hear and carry it to houses and far-off alleys. On trees, squirrels would squeak about it when they hunted for acorns. Other dogs had heard it too and shivered, thinking, "It could have been one of us!" A cat bobbed its pointy ears from inside a bush and hissed it away.

Then it reached inside the forest. A fox barked about how that was all her doing, but nobody really trusted the fox.

Some objected it was all made up.

"That's bogus!" would churr a badger. "Bedtime story for children!"

It came from many mouths, each time being told differently. Some said the bad man was ten men. Others claimed the dogs were indeed wolves that came from within the cold mountains. For the weeks and months that followed, it had been passed down as just another folk tale, something to listen to when chewing at a bone. It was a glorified story that earned its right to be heard, yet nobody knew the whole truth behind it.

Except Lady, for she knew better than anyone that Jock and Trusty were no wolves and especially that the queen of humans was no queen but a wicked witch.

Had she known about the story that had been flying around, perhaps she'd have told everyone about it; about the bravery of the Tramp, about this horrible Rat, and about that cat-loving witch her humans called Aunt Sarah.

Ah, Aunt Sarah - Lady detested Aunt Sarah more than she detested the Rat. There were moments when she thought Aunt Sarah simply feigned a kind-hearted nature only to harm their baby when she would not look. Then there were those other times when she believed Aunt Sarah was the sole predator of dogs with the only purpose to make them disappear.

Perhaps it was absurd, but fitfully, she believed it all. In her eyes, Aunt Sarah was the fable's biggest ogre, the storm's grimmest cloud, and the forest's darkest witch. Indeed. Aunt Sarah, of all the bad things that she played as, best played the witch. Only a witch would be so evil as to muzzle, chain, and lock a dog up, not to mention summoning the pound masters to take the Tramp away.

And Trusty's close call, and Jock's mournful cries; surely, those must have been in Aunt Sarah's plans, too, all along.

But despite everything, be them all true or not, Lady has somewhat forgiven Aunt Sarah, for she has done the impossible to acknowledge and even see to her mistakes. As hard to comprehend as it might be, it was Aunt Sarah who'd confronted the pound master to have the Tramp be released. Yes, the same person who had ordered the Tramp to be put down, has somehow tricked the man into believing it was all a big misunderstanding, so much so that it was the man who had apologized for it afterward.

Well, it could be that Aunt Sarah was simply too clever, even more than the Rat himself. And had the Rat not been so absorbed by the open window then, maybe he'd have lived long enough to be even craftier than her.

Though, one thing will remain certain until the very end of time; be Aunt Sarah good or bad, the best kind of Aunt Sarah is a far away Aunt Sarah - to which Lady would add, "And she better be taking those wicked cats with her!"

And she would the first thing in the morning. She said it herself to Jim Dear when they were driving back home with the dogs in his gasbuggy.

"Why, but so soon?" would follow Jim.

"I've had just enough of those dogs. And if she so much insists on taking that thing in, then I better be leaving. What will become of my little pies with that dog around?"

Jim then rolled his eyes and sighed in his mind. Inattentively, his foot pressed a bit harder on the pedal. Maybe he, too, wanted Aunt Sarah gone but was too gentlemanly to admit it.

Lady growled and snorted in disgust. She'd expected the Tramp to do the same. But he was too busy gazing through the rear window to feel offended. Ever since he hopped inside, he sat there, he was thoughtful. Though, Jim Dear praised him. He said he was quite a well-behaved dog, not having let out a single yip since they left.

"Are you being good back there, old feller?" Yet even Jim was hoping for a response, even the smallest would have done it. For a second, he believed the dog was not even there anymore. He briefly peeked an eye over his shoulder, only for Aunt Sarah to rebuke him for not having his eyes on the road.

The Tramp was there. However, he merely wiggled an ear and moved an eye. The window seemed too captivating.

"Maybe he's scared." Jim thought.

But Jim was not worried, for Lady was worried enough for both of them. And Lady looked long at the Tramp, as she sat down sunk in her haunches. Nonetheless, she could not tell what was going inside his head.

She rose on her hind part and leaned her forelegs against the backrest as he did, and for a few moments, she scanned what he was staring at. There wasn't much worth admiring; mostly darkness, left and right just sleeping houses, and the muddy road that slid beneath the wheels.

"What's he looking at?" she wondered.

But the Tramp paid the world around him little attention. Flying humans or dancing dogs could've appeared outside knocking at the window and he wouldn't have noticed any of them. His beliefs were being challenged. All that's happened to him that night doubted his convictions. Aunt Sarah, he said to himself, was quite a wacky piece of work. One time she hands him over to the dog catcher, then, the next second, she takes him back and blames the dog catcher for it.

Then he thought of Jim Dear. This man sat beside him and scratched and rubbed his uncombed coat as if he's been his human and the Tramp his dog since the very beginning. Jim did not seem to mind when the dog had shaken off his fur all over his suit or when the dog had stained his shoes and trousers with his dirty paws when he jumped excited or when he did the handful other slip-ups that would annoy most humans. The Tramp wondered and sought to determine just what manner of man was this.

Though, he was happy, albeit still a little bewildered. When he wasn't thinking of Jim Dear or Aunt Sarah, he was thinking of Lady and he smiled a covert smile whenever he did. And how thankful of her he was. He reckoned it might have been her the one who told the blue collared boys and the humans about the Rat.

Sometimes, his heart began to race and his tail to spin in circles; he hoped she had forgiven him for leaving her miserable at her kennel before all of that or, at least, that she had forgotten about it. But now that they set him free, perhaps he could take her again and roam through the streets and over the hills, and who knows? Maybe they could visit his families and gaze at the stars once more.

Meantime Lady was there next to him, and just then, she'd shifted closer.

The Tramp turned a drowsy eye and half-grinned through his whiskers. He hesitated for a moment.

"Are you all right, Pidge?"

Lady looked at him as if he had asked a silly question. "Yes, why shouldn't I be?"

The Tramp said nothing else. Her response reassured him. For a brief moment, it was still again. But Lady followed a sigh, she appeared as though she had something on her heart and for a long time, yet she felt too afraid to speak it.

"Tramp," breathed Lady, "Jim Dear and Darling- my humans said that they'd be glad do have you in."

"Have me in?" he narrowed his eyes but he knew what she meant. He glanced a look at the humans sitting in their front seats and chuckled a shade. "You mean those who gave you the ol' shackles and showed you to the doghouse?"

"They've never done anything like that!" Lady did not wait one more second to correct him. "It was the wicked Aunt Sarah who ruined everything!" she swerved her head toward the culprit.

"This Aunt Sarah sure sounds like a pain in the paw." the Tramp agreed, although not entirely convinced after what has happened earlier.

Lady took a deep breath, and with a voice as gentle as the summer rain, she proposed. "Tramp, why don't you come home with me? I'm sure they'll love you just as much."

"And run into Aunt Sarah again? She might bite me!"

Lady laughed. "She'll be gone the first thing in the morning. So will her two pests." she said, thinking of the cats.

"Suppose they'd muzzle me?"

Lady shook her head and smiled reassuringly. "Why, but I wouldn't let them!"

The Tramp did not doubt her. He was sure she wouldn't. If Lady could do so much as to send two dogs and two humans in rescue for his tail then she's really worth her salt, no mistake. Perhaps, in secret, the one in command over the leashes and collars, and maybe even over the humans, was she and she alone. Queen of the kennel club set, he imagined and quite dazzled by the title, he grinned to himself.

But her offer was not for him.

Back on top of the backrest he placed his muzzle, and with tiredness and a slight sense of boredom, he began to plan out what to do once this boxlike thing on wheels stops. A long road lay ahead of the Tramp, as he needs to find a home to rest in that hasn't been hit by the rain, and on an empty stomach too.

Lady knew that in his way he'd rejected her. She felt somewhat disrespected but just for a little bit. Wistfully, Lady looked at him as she would at a favorite toy that Darling would take away as punishment, but one that she knew she won't be getting back. And through her then pierced a wish, a burning wish similar to those that you'd have in winters. As you'd wish you'd have a blanket or a blazing fireplace, so wished Lady that the Tramp would come live with her.

And then Jim's buggy had slowly turned a street and Lady's wish was then to find out just what street that was.

She yawned long and fought to keep her eyes open. They glittered in bright, few and far between streaks of yellow from the street lamps that would come and go. She could not see or recognize much, but from all the big and small and strange-looking buildings that would run past her, only one would wink a hint.

A warm feeling of happiness tingled Lady like would a hot bath that Jim Dear would give her at times. Her ears perked a little and her smile was as broad as her pants were merry. She lifted her paws on top of Jim Dear's shoulder and yipped a jolly yip, pointing with a gaze at what lay several blocks ahead; nothing but the yard and the white and red house of hers.

"Down, Lady," laughed Jim, "we'll be home in a jiffy."

And Lady obeyed but she was too impatient. Soon she will see Darling again and, at last, she will see the baby. And she could not wait any longer to show him to Jock and Trusty as she'd often promised. Not long has been by now since Lady went galloping in her dream; loafing on the grass in her yard with them by her side where they could enjoy the afternoons together and admire the baby without any horrible muzzle or Aunt Sarah or black and yellow cat around.

But - and she turned around with a doleful look on her face - what about Tramp, Lady wondered. She wanted him, too, be part of her dream. He would sit right next to them. They would be friends and tell stories and share a bone, and after Jock and Trusty would be stalking toward their respective homes, she and the Tramp would romp and frisk together, they would go out on walks, or if it was too cold for walks, they would sleep by the fireplace or maybe they could kiss just like Darling once kissed Jim Dear on that one occasion when they let her eat cake.

Yet Lady feared that, as soon as they will reach her home, she and the Tramp will wag each other goodbye instead. He will canter down the sidewalk, whistling his deceiving whistle and be gone on his way without so much as a look back. He will hike and leap over those distant hills that he told her about, that she, too, would have wanted to hike and leap over alongside him, and find adventure and excitement on his own.

Truth was that she was quite fond of the Tramp, for he had left a pawprint in her heart deeper than those they left in the park together. Still, at times in her mind, she scolded and punished herself, crying that she shouldn't hold a rogue dear; where he had left a pawprint for her, he had left for many others and she could even name a few; a Trixie, a Lulu, and a Fifi too.

Eventually, in her sadness, she mused on his families, and as he said it, he had many; one for every day of the week. On Mondays was this one, on Tuesdays that one and each one called him something else. But a question arose; won't they be heartbroken if he leaves them, too, behind? Then she gave the Tramp a sidelong glance and surveyed him in detail. Some rather obvious characteristics had become apparent to her; he did not look like anyone has bathed him before, nor did he seem like the dog who'd visit the Pet Shop on Saturdays, and his neck had no trace of ever wearing a collar. Just what were those families to him? Does he truly have one?

It was then when Lady deduced that behind his gaiety and the happy-go-lucky nature of his grin, the Tramp held captive a lonely, wandering dog that has never known the warm love of a true family before. And she felt sorry for him, for she has known it ever since she was a puppy.

A sudden, wet nudge in her rib had startled her then. Lady veered her head sideways.

It was the Tramp. She didn't notice him. By then, she would sit dejected, counting down the blocks before her home.

"Hey, Pigeon," said his voice, soft as to not disturb the silence, 'why so down in the dumps?"

Lady would have pretended to look cheerful had she not been found out this soon.

"Oh, chipper up, kid." he nudged her encouragingly. "Want to hear a joke? I've learned one or two knee-slappers since I saw you last."

But Lady looked so piteous under her down-hearted look that the Tramp was too touched to demonstrate.

He tilted his head and peered at her, then all of a sudden he smiled as though he had just found the solution to all problems. Lady, too, smiled a little, unknowingly.

"Pidge, what do you say we fly the coup and go a'roamin'? I can tell you've had just enough of those humans. I know a place nearby where we can stay for the night. And, if you're sharp-set, there's a house just a few blocks away. Best cookies you've ever tasted." And the Tramp licked his muzzle as if he'd eaten those cookies a few seconds ago.

He talked in a funny way that Lady just now caught on to. Going "a'roamin'" and cookies did not sound bad at all after such a night.

"I would love to come along." confessed Lady. Yet to her voice clutched the same unspoken "but" and the same look of helplessness that had saddened him that morning.

"But why can't you?" he asked, a little miffed. "You said it yourself. That Aunt Sarah'll be off your plate in the morning. And besides, that baby's your humans' bother, not yours."

"I can't, Tramp." she said simply. "I can't leave my own family behind, you know. They're my home."

"Home?" he scoffed. "Just what are homes really? There's a wooden barrel just over the tracks. It gets a little wet but it's comfortable. And I know an old house down the river with rugs and bedsheets, warm enough to sleep in winters. And there are other places. Home? Shucks, but just about any roof I've been parking my paws under is home, sweet home to me."

"But," Lady murmured, "have you never wished you, too, had a family?"

"What do you mean? But I have! I have lots of families, Pidge, remember? Sure; not all of them might answer to a bark or a scratch or a whistle every time but that's why there's the next door." he wished he could make himself clearer.

Lady hanged back. She longed with all her heart for him to understand what she was about to say, yet not for anything she would have hurt one who had been so courageous and kind.

"I know, Tramp," she began, "but have you never felt that having so many families and homes is just like- well, not having any at all? You can't leave a family or home laying around as you would a bone, hoping that it will be there when you get back or, if it's gone, there will always be another. A home or family is like a mother or a father, Tramp. There's only one."

In worry Lady then watched as the Tramp slumped down his smile.

"I wouldn't know about that." said the Tramp fairly downcast. "My mother hightailed it when I was a whelp. And I don't even know who my father was."

And she pitied him. Though she, too, lived without her parents and siblings most of her life, she lived one with no straits as dire as the ones he might have faced being all alone.

The Tramp turned around and curled up into the corner of his seat. He muttered to Lady that he wanted to nap for a bit.

It didn't trick anyone, especially her. She was certain that the Tramp must have been too hurt. And she felt guilty. When she only meant to make him understand, in a way, she must have hit a sore spot.

In the meantime, her home was drawing near. Jim Dear yawned lustily and Aunt Sarah readied her umbrella. Soon the buggy was to stop.

In a squeal of breaks and a swirl of skirts, Aunt Sarah jumped out without so much as closing the door behind her. It must be that she didn't trust Darling enough, not even for half an hour, to look after Si and Am.

Jim didn't follow her. He said he'd carry Trusty to his owner next door. And Jock quickly after him in worry so great that he'd forgotten all about his gallantry, not wishing Lady a good night before leaving.

They left her all alone. Well, the Tramp was there but, to her, he was far gone.

Quickly, Lady swerved her head to the side. Where she saw Aunt Sarah cross the doorway inside the house, she saw Darling exit. The sound of Jim's buggy must have brought her out.

Lady smiled, for Darling had begun to look around as if in deep concern. She knew that Darling must be searching for her. And indeed she was. When she met paths with Aunt Sarah, Darling asked about James and Lady and the other dog.

Though on the outside Lady smiled, on the inside she hurt. There simply was no other choice. Her place was there. She could never run away with the Tramp. To leave Darling and Jim Dear all by themselves; they'd be heartbroken and so would she for betraying them.

And what about her responsibilities? Darling once said to her: "He's your baby, too, and you must always take care of him." The wicked Rat earlier; there must be more like him hiding in the shadows, and Aunt Sarah, too, might come back some dreadful day. Who will keep the baby safe from them if she leaves?

Back at the Tramp Lady then threw off her remorseful gaze. She hoped for a miracle that she was too sure was not about to happen. To say goodbye is tough, it is bitter, it's like swallowing the medicine that only sickens the heart more. And it's a pity too. The Tramp will never understand how that's like, what it means to treasure someone else above yourself.

Even so, Lady was quick to steel herself, having thrown away her fantasies, but keeping only one wish near; that the Tramp will remember her wherever he might go.

"Tramp," she spoke lowly, "I wish you would have come with me. I'd have loved to show you what a real home and family is like. And the baby; he's nothing like you told me. I believe you could've become great friends."

The Tramp perked his ears, though he didn't face her.

"But if you really got to leave, I hope that, beyond those distant hills you spoke of, there's someone out there that's waiting for you. Being all alone like this with nobody to love you, wandering everywhere and nowhere, aren't you afraid you might get sick?"

Then she heard Darling call her name and her whole began to shiver. She sounded worried and Lady didn't want to fret her any longer. She took a last glance at the Tramp before taking her leave.

"I-I must go. My human must be worried. Tramp, maybe someday you'll meet a family just as wonderful as mine, with a baby that you, too, can learn to love. And I dearly wish you will. Maybe then you'll understand me."

And away Lady then leaped like a fox into the bushes. When she was out, pattering quickly the wet road, she let the cheery jingle of her collar and a ghostly voice drift back to the Tramp. The jingle was bad enough, but the voice, it was to crash his ears to their sides and to stop his tail from wagging its happy wag. It was the sharp rock that he didn't dodge and the catcher that he couldn't trick. It brought along all the bad and nothing that was good. It was her "goodbye" and one to haunt him for all his days.

On the front porch, Darling called and looked around. Now she looked around for Jim but there was only "Lady dear" when she called. And Lady, like a leaf that follows the wind, she followed Darling's kind voice, for it made her all warm and happy whenever she heard its gentle song.

"Why, look at you," Darling stooped when Lady climbed the stairs, "you're dirty all over."

Lady crawled closer then licked her hand and whined. Yet her human's voice was indeed gentle, she didn't feel happy, nor was she warm.

Darling suspected something. "Are you hurt?"

Lady was certainly hurt but never would Darling have guessed where. And she searched the ears, she searched the belly, even the tip of her tail, but she simply couldn't find where Lady hurt.

On that porch, now they both waited. Let's wait for James together, said Darling. Lady wondered just who this James might be. What guest visits so late in the night? Then, coming from inside the house, she heard Aunt Sarah and her cats that screeched and teased. If she was to go inside now, no doubt, they will get her in trouble again. Waiting for this James was a good idea for the meantime.

The minutes passed but no sign of any James. Though, Lady hardly cared about it. There wasn't any room for that in Darling's warm gown where she rested on. She was being rubbed and scratched, her long ears were gently stroked and sometimes her nose was being patted. Whenever Darling would touch the nose, Lady would lick and Darling always found that amusing.

Then Darling would ask her questions. Have you been good? Did you miss us? And Lady would lift her head and pant. But whenever she heard Aunt Sarah being mentioned, Lady would only growl. And Darling was no fool. She must have sensed there was bad blood between Lady and Aunt Sarah.

"You know," she whispered, "I, too, think Aunt Sarah is a little exasperating at times. My mother once had a saying. There are but two kinds of people in this world: normal people and those who love cats."

And Lady sternly nodded and snorted. She couldn't agree more.

Her master laughed.

"I wonder why Aunt Sarah chained you to the kennel. Her cats must've touched your dish, haven't they? And you attacked them."

For this one thing, it wasn't the cats who were the blame, it was the Tramp. And Darling, as if she could read into her mind, then asked about him.

"Where's that other dog, now? Is he with Jim?"

Lady whined once more and Darling quickly aided her, thinking she must be hurting again.

The Tramp was long gone by now, probably "a'roamin'" somewhere or eating those cookies he mentioned. Who knows, maybe he's forgotten all about her already.

But enough about the Tramp. Lady pushed him away before long. Darling's touch soothed her pain. She was home, her family loved her and nothing mattered more.

The night was quiet, the house was still. Even the cats inside had ceased their shrieks. Aunt Sarah, she hoped, went upstairs to sleep.

Again, no sign of any James. What about Jim Dear? What's taking him so long? Even Darling had begun to worry.

Then someone came about soon after. Though Lady didn't bother to look, she heard Darling's surprised voice speak.

"Oh, there you are!"

Must've been Jim Dear, presumed Lady. She hoped he will tell her that Trusty is all right.

"Now, aren't you a handsome boy? Come! Come along!" then Darling called out.

But what was this all about? Darling never calls Jim Dear that. Perhaps it was this James. Then again, never did Darling call a guest a handsome boy before. Was it a boy like those that run in the park? Or a boy like the baby? No, couldn't be. It was too quiet around. Never she'd known a boy that wasn't noisy.

"Say, Lady dear," - and Darling then stopped patting her - "might this be your friend?"

Friend? Lady sprung out from Darling's lap in a flash. Her curiosity couldn't have gotten any stronger.

Then she stood stumped; open-mouthed and everything. There was betrayal in front of her eyes, for Darling's hands deserted her to rub and scratch another dog! Unacceptable! Right there and then, Lady should growl and snarl and snap, maybe even bite.

Yet that was far from what she really felt, and when that dog smiled his broad smile and winked his jolly wink at her, she grew as happy as the glint in her eyes grew bright. It was the Tramp the dog which Darling patted so lavishly.

And it happened that Jim Dear was right behind him. He, too, stooped and patted the Tramp. But he didn't forget to pat Lady after. Darling was grateful that he brought the dog back. After all, she begged him to.

"Jim dear," said Darling in her wonderful, happy voice, "we'll keep him, won't we? Look how sweet he is."

"Well," he scratched behind the head. At first, he was uncertain. "I mean, what's one more dog? But are you sure, darling? He doesn't seem like the dog that sticks around."

The Tramp escaped from Darling's light grasp and moved next to Lady whom he nudged good-heartedly. Then he turned at the humans and smiled with his pinkish tongue all the way out. Must have been some kind of response, they thought. Lady was most moved.

Jim Dear chuckled. "Say, old feller," he looked at the Tramp and the Tramp looked back at him, "should we keep you?" With the corner of his eye, he then spotted Lady wagging her tail and panting cheerfully. "Lady here thinks we should."

The Tramp barked a few times. Though it was night and the baby most likely asleep, they didn't scold him. Aunt Sarah at the window, however, was sure to scold them all.

"Oh, boy." Jim Dear was just a little frightened.

Lady yelped and backed a few steps, seeing the shadowy figure appear behind her like a ghost. The Tramp growled and barked his best.

"Put that dog away this instant!" boomed Aunt Sarah. "He'll wake my nephew! And I sincerely hope you're not bringing them inside! Can you not see how filthy they are?"

"But Aunt Sarah-" Darling tried to protest.

"Not one more word!" Aunt Sarah cut her off. "They'll stay outside! And you should stay outside yourselves! Probably fleas all over you already!" Then she shut the window with a thud, disappearing into the darkness. The light in the kitchen flickered in its horror.

Jim picked himself up and sighed. "I guess she's right. We should bath them tomorrow."

Darling groaned quietly. Bathing one dog was often challenging. Bathing two dogs certainly wasn't a walk in the park. But duties are duties as chores are chores. They have to be done and sooner than later.

The humans left inside shortly after. Of course, it was rather late, not long until midnight. Lady and the Tramp were the only ones still awake but they weren't allowed in the house, not before they'd get their respective baths. Lady excused herself in their name. She said she couldn't wait until Aunt Sarah left. Though, he didn't seem to mind. "Well, they're only humans after all." he'd reassure her.

But she was quite puzzled still. What was the Tramp doing here? He couldn't possibly wish to stay. Perhaps he'd forgotten to tell her his goodbyes.

"I thought you left, Tramp." said Lady. Then she watched as he lay on the doormat without the slightest care in the world.

"Left? Left where?" the Tramp cocked an eye toward her. "Everywhere and nowhere?" he smirked.

Lady looked away ashamed.

"I been thinking," he yawned, "your humans don't seem that bad at all. They sure know how to give a dog a good scratch." and he shimmied his back over the coarse mat. "Besides, what's adventure and excitement if only I get to bite from it? And there isn't any Pigeon out there like that one I happened to cross tracks with yesterday." he couldn't help but laugh a little. "I know! I looked them all over, Pidge!"

Although unsure, Lady understood that, by his odd way of talking, the Tramp complimented her. But she tried to be modest.

"You know," the Tramp crawled over where Lady sat, he gazed up at her and she glanced at him briefly, "you barked a good deal of truth earlier. But then you said that nobody loves me. I think you might be on the wrong scent there. What about you, Pidge?"

"Me?" Lady turned to him.

"Yeah!" he lifted himself. "Ain't this mutt good jewel fit for your collar?"

"My collar?" Lady looked perplexed at her chest then back at the Tramp. "I'm afraid I don't know what that means."

He laughed again and shook his head. "Well, doesn't the Lady love her Tramp? Cause the Tramp sure loves his Lady."

Lady's ears jumped a little, then she rose a paw and drew herself away sheepishly. "Tramp, please- don't go on. You're awfully sweet."

The Tramp felt the need to nose one of those ears that his words had probably pleased. But Lady, with a forbidding look on her face, stopped him in his quest. The air surrounding her, warm as it always has been, froze like ice in a snap. He watched her alert with his tongue only halfway out.

"But what about your other ladies? I trust that you don't love them anymore?" she confronted the Tramp.

He was left flustered, his tongue hid behind his teeth. To his terrible surprise, Lady did not forget, let alone forgive.

"You've had your way with so many, I could hardly believe what you've just said! They've chased you away, haven't they? And you came back here!" she cold-shouldered him. "Thank you, but I needn't love from someone like that."

The Tramp slowly descended to his paws under her remarks as if he'd lost the fight against a bigger dog.

"I-it's not like that!" he stammered. "I mean- yes, but that was then! You know how it's like out there, the wind blows you here 'till Sunday!"

She coldly faced away.

"Oh, come on, Pidge!" he crawled closer and pleaded. "Toss this mutt a bone, will ya? We're birds of a feather! We've all been bad dogs before. No doubt, you, too, have been bad dog once. But bad dogs can be good dogs too, can't they?"

Can they really? Lady sat quiet as the falling snow and contemplated. Indeed, she, too, has been a bad dog - and not just once - but, although Jim Dear and Darling had punished her every time, she's always been pardoned.

Maybe he was right. Maybe she should forgive him or, as he put it, toss him a bone. After all, he came and saved the baby even though she told him to stay away. And when she looked down at him, she could tell, even in the dark, that he regarded her with affection.

Lady sighed. Something in her mind kept telling her she was making a mistake. Then she remembered what Trusty once told her when she fought with Jock that one time. "Let bygones be bygones, miss Lady. Mistakes are there to be forgiven."

She let herself go, though she was stern. She claimed she's forgiven him already, but should he go back to his old ways and be disloyal, he'd better get used to sleeping in the kennel, or better - in another home with another family.

The Tramp complied, he submitted. He didn't have to wag or pant or say. Lady knew he understood. And her stonelike facade crumbled by and by. She was overjoyed that he chose to stay.

Then Lady promised him that tomorrow she'll show him the rest of the yard and the house. "You've already seen a bit of it, but it's a large house." she'd state. "I'd often get lost when I was little."

Of course, inside the house was the baby. Lady was sure not to forget to show him to the Tramp. She'd already pointed out where Jock and Trusty lived. She said she cannot wait to visit them again.

The Tramp wasn't as excited about those things as she was, but he admired her spirit.

"And maybe," would follow Lady, "we could go a'roamin' later? To one of your other families?"

He eyed her as if he had something else in his mind. "Perhaps." he said. "But the world is broad, Pidge. Lots of other things I want to show you." Then he yawned heartily as Jim Dear did earlier. "Well, but there will be time enough for that later."

Soon enough, they, too, went to sleep. Being too spent to move about, they shared the mat together. She would've shown him to her bed in the kitchen if it wasn't for Aunt Sarah to spoil everything. The Tramp, however, fell confounded at the discovery of a bed for dogs, being too sure that only humans had beds. But it didn't matter at all to him where he slept. He confessed with his carefree smile to Lady that, during downpours, he'd often sleep in bushes if he'd traveled too far from his homes. The doormat was a delight!

Hearing that, Lady was sure to shiver. Though, she'd shiver anyway, unlike the Tramp, having never slept outside before and during such a chilly night.

Needless to say, he'd sensed all her trembles. And like all the gentlemanly tramps that are fond of their ladies, he would take it upon himself to subdue her discomfort, although, at times, it seemed as if Lady deliberately trembled. But she was bashful, saying that he shouldn't, that she can go along, and that he needn't bother himself, when he could swear she actually meant the opposite.

"You're frail like a flower, Pidge." her long ear muffled his words as he breathed.

Lady should have felt guilty afterward, but she was too pleased to be sorry for him. His embrace was first warm, then it was loving, then it was both. A newfound joy for Lady that was sure to carry her through the night - one night of many, she hoped.