Song 07: "Pressure"

Over the course of his four-and-a-half years and counting, Francis Canis Bulldog had always strived for a level of sophistication and etiquette he often felt his companions lacked.

To be fair, he was the former pet of an alumni of the London School of Dramatic Art — the man had moved to NYC to pursue a life on Broadway, only to find he hated the stage after years of competition and mountains of student debt. Similarly, he'd adopted Francis with all the best intentions, only to find Bulldogs had health complications and were a bit costly.

Alone, betrayed, Francis had wandered the city like King Lear in the storm until Fagin found him. The man was ghastly poor, but Francis had learned to look past his rags.

"Lost in thought, Frankie?" Rita inquired. He was on the patchwork couch, and she was on the rug below. "Looks like something's bugging you."

"Oh, nothing. Just remembering my old life of culture and class."

"What, Einy's drool ain't classy?" She chuckled and glanced at the aged Great Dane. He was curled up beside straw-colored Annie, the poor old girl, and together they napped on Fagin's floor mattress. Einstein and Annie spent much time in each other's company.

"You know, Rita, I'll take kindness over sophistication anyday." He rested his head on a scratchy pillow — it wasn't silk, but it wasn't cardboard either. "I'm quite content here. I have good friends, and best of all, peace and quiet."

"Hola, mi amigos! Ignacio Alonzo Julio Federico de Tito is in tha house!"

A rat-looking excuse for a dog jumped through the doggy door. Tito strutted in wearing an oversized pair of sunglasses and a red bandana that dragged behind him like a cape.

"Do I even want to ask why you're wearing that?" Rita groaned.

"Eh, someone's gotta take over for Dodger's dramatic entrances, no?"

"They were one of his more charming traits," Francis said.

"Funny, Tito. Real funny." Rita tried to sound pleasant, but there was an unmistakable bite in her words. "But seriously. We gave his mom a home, now he's being petty and ditched us. That's all there is to it."

"One might say the president has resigned his Company."

"Heh heh! Good one, Frankie!" Tito hopped up on the couch with him, swinging his pelvis for a hip bump. The little rat began humming and dancing like some kind of hooligan, but it was infectious. Francis bobbed his head up and down, swaying with him.

Tito grinned, tossed the shades away, and threw those beaming bug eyes at him. "No pare, sigue sigue!" He spun in a circle, Francis rolled over, and Tito seized the chance to leap on his belly. "Toda la noche!" Their eyes met. Tito gulped.

Francis had bubbles in his tummy that he usually reserved for Shakespeare. He cleared his throat and moved, forcing Tito off him. "Goodness, what's the A/C at? It's warm in here."

Rita looked at him with a funny grin. "Weird start to the night, huh?"

To make it weirder, a dog began howling outside the apartment complex.

"What are wolves doing here?" Einstein asked groggily.

"Who is that?" Rita huffed. "They're gonna wake the whole block."

The howling didn't stop, and just as she'd feared, shouting from the neighbors came next. The person next door banged on the wall like he thought they were the noisy ones. Rita had to restrain Tito so he didn't add to the ruckus. "I'm gonna tell them to knock it off."

"Good idea," Francis said. "I'll accompany you, my dear."

Rita slipped out the doggy door with no trouble, but unfortunately, whoever began breeding Bulldogs centuries ago had decided they should be on the chunky side. Francis got his head through but caught around the tummy. His cheeks flushed. Behind him, he could hear Tito laughing. He squeezed himself through to get away from the laughter, more than anything.

"You okay, Frankie?" Rita nuzzled him gently. She heard his breathing.

"Yes, fine," he said, taking deep gulps of air to stop himself wheezing. "Bulldog breathing troubles, that's all." One in, one out, slow as possible. "I'm alright."

"Tito ain't making fun of you. You mean the world to him."

He paused at the top of the stairs. "Do you really think so?"

Rita raised an eyebrow and grinned, but said nothing. His heart racing faster than ever, Francis followed her down the apartment steps and onto the ground level. The evening was red and purple, clouds streaked above the low Bronx rooftops, and the air was chilly. "Okay now, who in Old Yeller's name is making all that racket?"

The howling stopped, replaced by a happy bark. Suddenly Rita recognized the bark and howl, knew who the dog was before she saw her face. Deep down, Rita had been half-hoping to see Dodger come to apologize, but it was a pleasant surprise to see Charlie instead.

"Girl, what is wrong with you?" She greeted the black-and-white collie.

"What's wrong is there ain't no decent vendors in tha Bronx!" Charlie laughed, running up and touching noses with her, sniffing her eagerly. "Long time no see, Frankie."

"Mercy, how many times must I say it? My name is Francis. I don't appreciate being called Frank or…" Here, he shuddered. "…Frankie." A truly deplorable nickname.

"Nice to see he hasn't changed."

"Wanna come up?" Rita nodded to the stairs.

Francis whispered in her ear, "Are you sure that's a good idea? You know Tito and Einstein were not happy with them for… you know…" He was a loud whisperer.

Charlie puffed up her black-and-white chest. "For ditching ya when Sykes showed?" She shook her head and sighed. "I was hoping we could move on, Frankie… I miss ya guys. Came all this way to hang out with tha Company again. Don't turn a sister away."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Rita led her old friend to the stairs and showed her up. Frankie fell behind, hobbling after the others. He has nerves in his stomach again, but not from Tito.

Up the steps, onto the landing, and through the doggy door into the apartment. Charlie broke into the biggest grin when she saw the rest of the Company — Tito on the sofa, Einstein on the mattress — and woofed a greeting. Behind her, Rita and Frankie saw the astonished looks on their gangmates' faces. Frankie whispered, "I tried to warn you."

"Hey, hey, guys! I didn't know I missed ya till I saw ya now."

"Hello, Charlie," Einy grumbled half-heartedly.

Tito didn't do her the courtesy. He gave her a bug-eyed glare.

"Guys?" The collie's ears fell. She exchanged a sad look with Rita. "I was joking. I did miss ya." The apartment's residents knew Fagin had not, in fact, turned up the A/C because heat was expensive. And now the apartment was unusually chilly.

"Don't be ridiculous, everyone," Rita suddenly spoke up. She rounded on Frankie, Tito, and Einy. "Okay, yeah, Charlie, Nancy, and Noah left when it got rough. But can you blame them? We were being threatened by killer Dobermans. They got scared."

The boys mumbled words that sounded half-hearted: water under the bridge, we can move on, yesterday's gone, and similar sentiments. Not a great apology, but Charlie would take what she could get, and she wasn't the type of dog to hold a grudge.

By now the evening had faded, the light left the apartment, and the dogs had all tucked themselves into bed. Einstein and Annie slept on the mattress, sweet together. Frankie and Tito were curled up on the couch. Resentment was replaced with sleepiness.


Night in the Bronx was a little friskier, a little more dangerous than Manhattan. They were still people walking the streets, a lot of kids with no where better to go, rather than fancy shoppers, diners, and showgoers. It was less plastic, and she appreciated it.

Rita and Charlie had slipped out of the apartment while the others slept, back through the doggy door, and walked a few blocks. Fagin wasn't back yet, which was not unusual; probably he was pulling a double shift. "He finally got a job, eh?" Charlie asked.

"We're all happy for him. Life is going better for all of us."

"Tha Company deserves a break," she chuckled.

They returned to the rundown basketball court where they met the other day. The ball was still there, and the pavement was cracked and weedy as ever. Charlie bounced the ball against the wall, Rita joined in, and soon they were laughing their worries away.

There was a fire escape nearby with its steel ladder left hanging. It was just low enough for Charlie to jump onto a trash can then leap onto the steps and climb her way to the landing. She barked to Rita to join her, who rolled her eyes but followed. They ascended three more flights until they could see the Bronx rooftops, the window lights, the cars zooming by, and way off in the distance, the skyscrapers of the Big Apple.

The November air was crisp and Rita shivered, so Charlie moved closer to her. It made Rita's heart race. "Can I ask a dumb question?"

"Only if I get to ask one back," Charlie said. "Ask away."

"Well, back when we all lived on the barge, you seemed to… you hung out with Nancy a lot. You slept on blankets together. You let her eat first." Rita didn't know where her feelings came from. She had a scrapbook of memories she wanted to make sense of, to understand what she hadn't back then. "Were you two a couple? I know you like girls."

"I sure do." She put her paws on the railing, staring at the city below. "But Nancy and I weren't together. She was shy, and I thought of her like a little sister. Wanted to protect her."

"Oh." Rita was glad it was dark so the collie couldn't see her embarrassment. "That makes so much sense. We just assumed… Dodger and I thought… you know."

"Is that why he never made a move on Nancy?"

"Yeah. You were a friend, and he doesn't steal from friends."

"He should've. Nancy liked him for ages. Heck, she still does."

"So was that your question?"

"Nope. What I wanna know is… what's between ya and Dodger?"

Rita groaned and slid to the metal floor of the landing. If this was just girl talk, like when she and Nancy used to gossip about which breed was the handsomest — Rita said a classic German Shepherd, Nancy favored the spotted Australian cattle dog — then that would've been fine. But it wasn't just girl talk with Charlie. There was another shade that made her heart beat and her nerves flare. "Oh, geez… Dodger and me… we flirted a lot."

"Yeah, ya did." Charlie's smile seemed forced. "All tha time."

"But it never amounted to anything. He was fun. We were young."

"Ya still young," the collie laughed. "He is fun, ain't he?"

"Sure, but Charlie… listen, girl, Dodger is… Dodger is over. Things have changed." Rita looked at the yellow taxi cabs and nighttime jaywalkers on the streets below the fire escape. It all changed so quickly, one minute you were at the light, the next you zoomed away. "Dodger and the Company will always be friends, but he's going a different direction now."

"And ya'd rather be with tha Company than with him?"

"I'd pick the Company any day. They're my responsibility."

"Here I thought tha Dodge was president." The admiration in her eyes was unmistakable. "Ya always been leader material. Ya take charge. I'm too flaky."

"Flaky?" Rita repeated, staring at her curiously. The dogs were silent as she mulled over Charlie's words, then she asked, "Why are ya here and not in Harlem?"

Charlie sighed, laid down, and stuck her nose through the railing bars. "Truth is we went different directions, too. For so long it was me, Nancy, and Noah, but something changed."

"What?" Rita whispered. "What happened?"

"Dodger happened." A forlorn smile. "Lemme tell ya about it…"


A few days prior, the early November winds blew their way downstairs into the abandoned subway station that Charlie, Nancy, and Noah called home. Usually they all huddled close together to keep warm, but today, they were all several feet apart.

It was a restless late morning, like they'd all overslept and woken cranky. They'd endured the thunderous thousand feet of the morning rush above — it came daily, but it sure aggravated — and all three were bristling their fur.

"Why are ya so quiet, Nancy?" Charlie said. "I don't like silence."

She stared at her friend aghast. "I'm always quiet."

"Yeah, but today ya seem extra… I dunno. Broody. Mopey."

"Mopey?" Nancy stood up and shook her dirty-gold fur indignantly. "Being quiet doesn't mean I'm moping." She raised an eyebrow. "Why are ya always so blunt?"

"Blunt?" Charlie scoffed. She shook her head. "Wait… I know. Ya thinking about him, ain't ya? Ya been in love ever since he showed up in Harlem."

"Why do ya gotta pick a fight when you're bored?" Nancy spat at her.

The girls' quarrel made them forget there was a third dog in the subway station, a boy who hadn't said anything till now, had lingered in the shadows, but now that he came into the light, he sure was huge. "Both of ya, be quiet." Noah didn't usually growl. It wasn't his nature. "I can't hear myself think." Overhead, the station light flickered weakly.

When he growled, they stopped talking. Charlie and Nancy may have been at odds with each other, but it was every female's instinct to stand beside another female when the males became aggressive, no matter how long they'd known him, no matter the girls' quarrel.

For the past few days, Noah had been acting strange. He spoke less than usual, and when he did, he was muttering to himself in the corner of the station. Often he went above ground for many hours at a time. They'd catch him saying things like, "They're coming for us…" or "Pure… who's pure, anyways? How do they know?" and other unnerving whispers.

So although they'd known Noah most of their lives, when he growled at them, Charlie and Nancy dropped everything to protect each other from masculine rage.

"There are more important things to worry about than who likes who!" Noah barked now. "Tha Purebreds are coming for every mutt in tha city! Don't ya get that?"

"Sure, pal, but what can we do?" Charlie asked slowly.

"I don't want ya to get hurt, that's all. I don't want him hurt."

Nancy asked in a hushed voice, "What are ya talking about?"

"We ain't gonna get hurt. Harlem's a long way north of tha Battery."

"They won't stop till tha whole island's pure!"

The girls were sufficiently creeped out. The Bullmastiff didn't say anything else like that, but he didn't say anything else the rest of the day, just sat in the shadowed corner. He was the friendly protector type, had never made a move on either of them, and they loved having him around, but now they didn't know what to think. Their fears didn't last long.

The next morning, Noah had disappeared. Fear became worry.

They never went looking for him, figured that if he wanted to come home, he knew where the station was. But Charlie became convinced that he left to fight the Purebreds himself, or to join some resistance movement. He may've been acting odd, but he was still a friend.

After that, Nancy and Charlie didn't speak much to each other. They worried that their spat had driven him off and both felt guilty; one day the rain came down hard and puddles accumulated in the subway station, and they were more miserable than ever.

The morning after the rain, Nancy announced she was leaving, too. "Ya right. I have been thinking about him." She didn't sound angry, just weary. "We had something."

"Ya don't know him. He plays girls like piano keys."

"He's grown since. He told me there was a Fifth Avenue mansion he liked to visit, north of tha Met, yellow brick and flower beds. I'm gonna find it. I'm gonna wait for him."

"Nancy," the collie called. "I don't want him breaking ya heart."

The golden girl smiled. "Thanks for looking out for me." Then she climbed the stairs out of the station, paws splashing through rainwater, and she was gone.

Charlie was alone as the morning rush began above ground, loud as ever.


It was nearly morning by the time the doorknob wiggled, the key clicked, and Fagin walked into his tiny apartment — well, more like staggered in. He had that odd smell about him, his face was red, and his eyes glassy. "Hullo, fellas," he slurred, then hiccuped.

He somehow made it to his recliner without falling. The Company, who'd all woken up when their owner came home, crowded around him. Rita and Charlie had returned to the apartment not longer after the collie told her story. Everyone else had been asleep, and they'd gotten a few hours of sleep themselves until Fagin stumbled in.

"Sorry about this, guys." He wrung his fingers into his coat pocket and pulled out his pack of cigarettes and lighter. Fagin took one out, held it between his lips, and lit the end. The dogs were thankful he didn't light himself on fire by mistake. "It's just that work… I did my best, but I guess they found my… my record…"

He inhaled too quickly and the smoke made him sputter. "Now I… I gotta find a new job. But where?" Fagin's eyes were watery. "I don't want us to get evicted."

Einstein whimpered and placed his head in Fagin's lap, slobber and all. But Fagin never minded his drool. He yawned and scratched Einy's chin absentmindedly.

His voice cracked on his next words. "Dodger's not coming back, is he?"

The dogs all shook their heads.

Fagin sighed and took another puff. "Maybe he was smart to leave. Wouldn't be tha first. Oliver didn't stay, and before him we lost Noah and Nancy and…" He sat up in his chair. Fagin thought the alcohol was making him hallucinate, but when the black-and-white collie put her wet nose in his outstretched hand, she felt real enough. "...Charlie? Ya came back."

Charlie woofed happily, licking his fingers. That made him giggle. "Oh, wow, Charlie, it's been too long! What brings ya here, ya tomboy? Did ya miss ya old pals?"

She stood beside Rita proudly, and the rest of the Company couldn't help but smile when they saw how happy she made Fagin. They all decided to drop the resentment — what mattered was they were a large gang once again. Fagin chuckled, yawned again, and shut his eyes. "Don't be gone when I wake up, okay, girl? Don't be a dream."

He put the cigarette out in an ashtray on a nightstand. Fagin's eyes opened a peep to make sure his dogs were all there, and when he saw they were safe and sound, he closed them again. Soon Fagin was snoring. Jobs, rent, and bills could wait a little longer.

The Company looked at each other with uncertainty, then they too decided that stress could be handled later. For now, they were happy to be off the streets, together.

"I missed this tha most," Charlie whispered, watching them all settle down for some more sleep. Francis and Tito, Annie and Einstein, and her beside Rita. An apartment beat an abandoned subway station anyday. "Do ya think I could… rejoin tha gang?"

The dogs all exchanged looks. "That would be up to the leader," Francis said.

"But if Dodger's gone," Einstein said slowly, "who is our leader?"

Tito puffed his little chest out. "Very well, if ya insist! I accept tha nomination."

"We're poor, not desperate," Francis drawled. The Chihuahua snorted like a bull.

"Well, if ya ask me…" Charlie said, "...I think it should be Rita."

Francis nodded approvingly. "I second that idea."

Now everyone was looking her way, and although her headache throbbed worse than ever, she fought it back to smile at her friends. Her family. She'd meant what she said about choosing the Company over Dodger, about them being her responsibility. When Dodger had led the gang, he'd often asked her for advice — she was the natural choice. Rita nodded her bushy brown head. "Okay, guys, if you all agree." They all woofed. "I'll do it."

Charlie beamed at her. "How about it, President Rita? Can I join full-time?"

Rita rolled her eyes. "You nominated me cause you knew I'd say yes."

"I nominated ya cause ya tha best dog for tha job. And I knew ya'd say yes."

There might've been cracks in the walls, boards over the windows, and mold in the bathroom, but there was a dim happiness in that apartment. Rita stood tall before their eyes, and while she was afraid of letting them down, their admiration reassured her that she'd do just fine. They returned to the couch and mattress, smiles on everyone's faces. They knew Fagin would find a way through. He'd dealt with worse before.

The only dog not smiling was dusty old Annie, who gingerly stepped towards Rita. "If ya tha leader, then I have a confession." She bowed her scruffy head. She looked so much like Dodger — same eyes, same spots, only different-colored fur — that it always unnerved Rita. She braced herself to hear what Annie had to say. "I think I'm pregnant."

Rita's jaw dropped. She looked between her and Einstein. "Are they Einy's?"

"No, not his," Annie sighed. "It was from tha streets… I didn't realize until recently. I didn't know when ya found me, otherwise I never woulda imposed."

Einstein rubbed his muzzle against her head. "I don't care whose they are." He licked her cheek. "I'll take care of them. I promise."

"That's sweet, but Fagin, ya owner… he's struggling, ain't he?" Annie glanced at the man snoring in the recliner. "He can't feed puppies. It's not fair to him. I should just go."

"Absolutely not." Rita blocked the doggy door. "You're in the Company now. You ain't going nowhere, understand?'

Annie nodded and almost gasped for breath, a sigh of joy and disbelief. She laid on the mattress beside Einstein, and he put his nose on her stomach, which was indeed slightly rounded. Rita had thought her weight gain was from getting regular meals, but turned out there was more to the story. The old dogs had such tenderness between them — she thought how wonderful it was that Einy had someone his own age in the gang — that Rita knew it'd be a happy story.

She had to believe they'd be okay. That Fagin would find a new job, that he'd pay rent on time, that he'd stop drinking and smoking, that they could afford puppies.

She was the leader. She had to believe it.