Song 14: "That's Not Her Style"
The Underdogs knew that an attack from the Purebreds was imminent; they were stationed in Central Park, which was still part of Manhattan — the territory the pures had laid claim to — which meant they'd try to drive them out someday soon.
That meant that they were living in a state of constant fear, never knowing when the supremist enemies were coming for them, to enact their terrible plan to rid Manhattan of every last mutt. But Skippy Dawg was confident his mutts weren't going anywhere.
What they lacked was intelligence — the intel on their enemies' movements — because they had no means of figuring out their adversary's plan. It was impossible to know whether a purebred dog on Fifth Avenue was a rich pet or a gang member.
But one night in Central Park, intel came to Dodger from the last animal expected.
"Adena," Dodger growled at the sight of the calico cat slinking forward.
"It's just me," she whispered, head bowed, "no sneak attacks."
She was immediately surrounded by the mongrel dogs, who stepped aside for their leader, a Rottweiler who happened to be the only pure breed among them, to come forward.
"What are ya doing here?" Skippy Dawg barked. "Ya with tha Purebreds."
"I was," Adena mumbled, tears wetting her fur. "But you don't understand… I never wanted to. They saved my life a long time ago, and they said I — I owed them. They wouldn't let me leave." She looked Dodger in the eyes now, trembling. But for the first time, he saw no deceit in her watery eyes. "But I'm through with them."
"Why should I believe tha cat who sold out my little bro?"
The green-eyed calico sat herself on a rock, completely surrounded by the Underdogs. She could barely look Dodger in his muddy brown eyes. She was a tiny cat swarmed by snarling dogs with only her claws to defend herself, but they were sheathed. Adena quaked like a sapling in a thunderstorm. "I can't justify what I did to Oliver… I betrayed him." She sniffed. "But would you believe that I… I love Oliver too. I didn't realize I did until it was too late."
Her confession made the bristling hairs on Dodger's back lie flat. "Ya love him?"
"Yes, I do. He's sweet and innocent, naive even… but he's the kindest animal I've ever met in this cruel city. We went on a date and I…that's when I…" Adena now began crying fully, and finally, Dodger knew it wasn't an act. "He means the world to me."
He lowered his voice to a gentler tone. "Well… I've made mistakes too." Dodger sighed and looked to his left, at his Nancy babe. "I've hurt tha ones I love… so I get it. But why did ya come here today? What did ya wanna accomplish?"
At last, Adena raised her head. "To help you beat the Purebreds."
She looked to Skippy Dawg, leader of the Underdogs. "I know exactly what they're planning, when they're gonna strike… and there's an attack coming. They know you're in Central Park… they have eyes and ears on Fifth Avenue."
Adena's repentance was complete. "I'm here to warn you."
Word spread fast on the streets of New York City, from one mongrel dog to the next. They had become divided, and if a mutt passed a pure on the street, they had become obligated to bark and growl at each other. Sometimes they fought and sometimes not, but the division the Purebreds had aimed to implement had finally been realized.
In the neighborhoods of Washington Heights and musical Harlem, there were many mutt dogs. Because of the looming gang war, the dogs had begun to segregate themselves — achieving exactly what the Purebreds wanted — so nowadays, you found mutts up north and pures in the south. So one day in Harlem, the mongrels were whispering.
"Ya hear about tha gang war? Hear about tha Pures' plan?"
"I'm hightailing it outta Manhattan for good, man. I'm going to Long Island."
"Yeah? I'm going to Jersey. Everything is legal in New Jersey."
And in Harlem, there was an abandoned subway station where the homeless gathered, only now it was also occupied by the ragged Fagin and his family of dogs, the Company. After a week of living there, the old metro finally felt like home. Close enough, at least.
It had become routine for Rita and Charlie to take a walk around the block every other night, to spend some time alone, apart from the pups they were raising and their friends in the Company. The girls loved their gang, but private time was needed in any relationship.
On one of their date nights, they passed an alley where a pair of mutts were whispering.
"Did ya know that tha Artful Dodger has joined tha Underdogs?"
"Maybe now they'll finally have a chance against the Purebreds."
Rita did a double-take and stuck her head in the alley. "Did you say Dodger?" She bounded up to the two mutts, who scampered backwards in surprise. They nodded quickly, muttering, "Uh, yeah, tha famous one," and "Guy who stopped traffic with a song and dance."
"He's gonna fight the Pures?" Rita exchanged a look of worry with Charlie, then she returned her attention to the two mongrels. "Where are they right now?"
"Central Park, near tha Ramble is what tha mutts around here are saying. But why do ya wanna know?" The dog eyed her suspiciously, taking a few steps back. "Come to look at ya, Miss, ya a pure-blooded Saluki yaself, ain't ya? How do we know ya ain't a Purebred?"
"Cause she's got some decency," a defensive Charlie barked.
"It's okay, babe," Rita said. "I may be a pure breed, but I ain't one of them."
"Well, ya sure pass for one," the mutt grumbled, turning away and scurrying out the other end of the alleyway before they could be interrogated any further.
Rita and Charlie gazed at each other, fear in their eyes. "Dodger is with the Underdogs… and they're gonna be attacked soon." They gulped but stood firm. "We've gotta help him."
No longer in the mood to continue date night, the two girls hurried back through the gritty streets of Harlem until they were back down in the abandoned subway station they now called home. Their three puppies — brown Stud, white Kitty, and spotted Billy — all ran up to them and wrapped around their feet, saying that they missed them and were so glad they were back. That made it all the harder, given what they had determined to do.
Solemnly, Rita and Charlie recounted to the Company what they had learned on their night on the town. They told them that Dodger had joined with the Underdogs and was risking his life to battle the Purebreds, and how they were holed up in Central Park waiting for an attack to come, and that they would help. "He's our friend," Rita said. "We don't got a choice."
"The Company is ride or die," Charlie said, "and I ain't running away this time."
"But that means we need ya guys to care for tha kids. Can ya do that?"
"It would be a distinct honor," Francis said gravely.
"We love tha little guys!" Tito happened to be smaller than the pups.
"I promised Annie to keep them safe," Einstein said, "and that's what I'm gonna do."
That was the most Einstein had spoken in recent days. He had become a little bit older, a little bit grayer, since Annie had passed away. His breathing had gotten heavy, his pace slowed, and he often struggled to form words and sometimes he didn't entirely make sense. But his smile was always wide. "Come here, guys," he said, beckoning to the puppies.
They ran into his arms in an instant. He had warmth enough for all three.
Rita gazed at the form of Fagin, buried under blankets and newspapers, huddled in the corner of the station. He reeked of beer and old burger buns, which he'd been subsisting off the past week. She considered waking him to say goodbye, but decided against it.
"We'll return, guys," she said softly. "That's a Rita promise."
"You know," Francis said with a smile, "you almost sound like Dodger."
The journey from Harlem to Central Park was long and arduous, taking up the rest of the night. Rita's determination rose with the morning sun. They crossed the early-morning traffic, people on their way to work or kids heading to school, and they were able to snag a bite to eat at a food vendor they knew to be friendly to the neighborhood canines.
On their long walk, Rita and Charlie had been devising a plan. They couldn't show up to the Underdogs with nothing to offer but their teeth and claws: they had strategy, and they were sure it was a winner. "If that mutt in tha alley last night thought ya were in tha Purebreds…" Charlie said, grinning, "...then who's to say tha actual Purebreds won't let ya join?"
"Infiltrate the enemy. Spread dissent on the inside. It's risky."
"Are ya sure ya wanna do it? I don't wanna lose ya, baby."
"You won't lose me. I can handle a little risk."
They were on the sidewalk where the city met the park. Going from steel and concrete into grass and trees was like entering a whole different world. Rita and Charlie took a deep breath and crossed into the forest — crossed into the gang war.
The group of dogs and one calico cat were in the southern end of Central Park, on the border between safety in the woods and danger in the concrete jungle. They were a small group consisting of Dodger, Nancy, Skippy Dawg, Charlie, Rita, and Adena. The reunion between Rita and her friends had been wonderful for everyone, and Skippy was glad to have new recruits for the Underdogs. They'd left the rest of the gang in the deepest part of the park — they were simply a send-off group accompanying Rita before she departed on her mission.
Skippy Dawg, leader of the Underdogs, thought it was an ingenious plan. With the knowledge that he and Adena both had, as both were former members of the Purebreds, they were able to tell Rita everything she needed to know to infiltrate their rivals.
"I know ya can do this, sugar," Charlie said, nuzzling her girlfriend.
Dodger approached them. "Listen, Rita… it's a good plan, but still… be careful, okay? If ya ever fear for ya life, run as fast as ya can back to Central Park, alright?"
"Okay, Dodger." Rita bumped shoulders with her old friend. Their past arguments seemed so petty now. "I'll be back before ya know it."
She was the only purebred among them. The only one who could do this.
Rita took a deep breath, morning light shining above the buildings in Midtown Manhattan. She was accompanied by Adena, who would be able to lead her straight to the Purebreds' meeting place. A yellow taxi cab pulled up to the sidewalk, and Rita seized her chance to leap on the trunk and climb to the top, Adena clinging to her back.
As they sped deeper and deeper into the Purebreds' downtown turf, she felt the city shift and change around her. The skyscrapers became ominous. The cars were killing machines. Her streets of gold became a web of alleys that threatened to consume her.
"Here we are," Adena whispered. "Battery Park. Enter from the east and you'll meet fewer guards. Ask to speak to Ruscoe directly… he'll like you."
"Thanks, girl," Rita said. Her guide nodded and turned around, returning uptown.
Now Rita was on her own. She snuck around to the eastern entrance, just like Adena said, and she was right — there were only two guard dogs who burst out to confront her.
"Easy, boys. I'm only here because… I want to join. I want to be a Purebred." Rita got real close with one of the males. "Think your gang has room for a pure Saluki?"
Blushing profusely, the guards led her further into their territory, passing tourists and shoppers alike. Rita thought it was funny that there were humans walking these streets with no idea that the stray dogs were on the brink of war with each other. They went deeper into Battery Park until they were surrounded by trees, away from the humans.
"Hey, Ruscoe! We got a joiner over here!" the guard dog called out.
Rita thought she was ready to face the son of their old enemy. She was dead wrong. When the young Doberman Pinscher came forward, yellow eyes gleaming, Rita thought she would collapse in terror. Memories of Roscoe and DeSoto flooded back to her.
"So the lady wants to join the big boys, does she?" Ruscoe chuckled and looked Rita up and down with a leer, exactly like his dead father. "Well, that's fine by me."
"Just tell me what you want me to do," Rita said with feigned confidence.
"Ooh, I like your attitude. Here's all you need to know about being a Purebred…" Rule number one: we pures watch each others' backs. Rule number two: show the Underdogs no mercy. And rule number three: I'm in charge around here."
"Excuse me, Ruscoe?" called a surprisingly soft-spoken voice. It belonged to a dark gray Bullmastiff, a dog who came marching forward. "I'm in charge around here."
The gray dog froze when he saw Rita standing among the Purebreds. His jaw dropped, then his eyes narrowed. Fortunately, Dodger had already informed her that their old pal Noah was the secret leader of the supremacists, so they knew he would be suspicious of her wanting to join his gang. They anticipated this and had made a counter strategy.
"Hey, Noah. Long time no see." Rita said casually. "I'm a Purebred now."
"Really? Cause last I remember, ya pretty cozy with Dodger, ain't ya?"
"Dodger," she huffed. "That dog is a real jerk. No, we ain't friends no more. He always hit on me and couldn't take no for an answer. Couldn't understand that I'm attracted to…" Here Rita threw Ruscoe a flirtatious smile. "...dogs of a higher pedigree."
"So I'm to believe that ya quit tha Company and left ya friends behind?"
"Believe it or not, it's the truth," she shrugged. "Same as you did."
"Aww, don't worry about him, doll. Noah is all bark and no bite." Ruscoe reassured her with a nuzzle of his head. He was getting awfully close now. "I'm the real leader, so what I say goes. And I say you're more than welcome to join the Purebreds."
"Thanks, honey," Rita said with a devilish grin. "You make a great leader."
She watched Noah's face scrunch with fury and knew she'd said the right words.
Noah seethed, his eyes like flames and his voice barely a whisper. "Need I remind ya who tha real leader of tha gang is? Ya my puppet, nothing more. Never forget that."
"Puppet? Why you little…" Ruscoe snarled. She watched as he and Noah began circling each other, snarling viciously. The rest of the Purebreds had noticed that a fight was brewing. Ruscoe spat at his paws. "You can't order me around anymore. Everyone knows I make a better leader, so let's make it official. You can be second-in-command."
"Maybe it's time our entire gang knows tha truth..." Noah drawled, walking around the park to all of his gathered Purebreds. He addressed them all in a loud and clear voice. "I've a confession to make, friends. Some of ya already know but the truth — the truth is Ruscoe ain't ya leader." A gasp went out from the gang. "I am. I've been leading from tha shadows this whole time, but now I'm stepping into the light. Ruscoe was only ever a puppet, someone to look strong and talk tough, but he don't make the decisions. That's been me all along."
Whispers and mutters immediately ran through the Purebreds. They looked at Ruscoe, they looked at Noah, unsure who to side with. A Pit Bull and a German Shepherd with only one ear both stood beside Noah. "It's true," the Shepherd said. "Noah's been our leader this entire time. He's tha brains behind tha operation."
That won over several dogs. They came to stand behind Noah, while others lingered around Ruscoe, Rita included. She saw an opportunity growing before her, and she seized the moment. Rita ran forward to whisper in Ruscoe's ear. "Are you gonna stand there and take this? Or are you gonna show us the leader you can be?" She licked his cheek.
Ruscoe's whole body began to shake. "Babe… what are you saying?"
"You deserve to be leader, not Noah." Rita batted her eyelashes at him. Time to deliver the punchline. "I knew your father, Roscoe, and he would've never stood for this. Don't you want to be like your father?"
"My father?" Ruscoe looked at her in awe. "He'd want me to…"
"He'd want you to fight, right here, right now, for your right to lead."
Ruscoe whipped around to face Noah. He marched right up to him and towered high, showing off his rows of sharp teeth. "She's right. I challenge you to a fight for leadership of the Purebreds." Ruscoe began snarling. "Time to settle this once and for all."
Noah responded with a snarl of his own. The Bullmastiff and the Doberman were well-matched. "If it's a fight ya want, it's a fight ya get." Noah took the first strike. He jumped at Ruscoe and tore into his shoulder. Ruscoe snarled in pain and threw him off, then threw his claws at Noah's face. But Noah was too fast for him. He dodged the swipe and bit Ruscoe on the leg. Ruscoe screamed and spat.
He threw him off and hacked at Noah's face, leaving red marks. They clashed and slashed each other, throwing their whole weight against the other. Rita watched in agony. Ruscoe had to win. If he didn't, Noah would punish her for siding with him.
The Purebreds watching were completely divided. Some cheered for Ruscoe, whom they still believed to be their leader, while others supported Noah, Club and Razor and the others who'd known the truth all along. Others didn't know who to back.
Ruscoe slammed Noah to the ground and bit him on the neck. It looked like he was going for the kill, but Noah managed to strike back and escape. He was seriously wounded, though. Blood dripped from where Ruscoe had bit him. "This is it, Noah. The Purebreds are mine—now and forever." Ruscoe delivered the finishing blow by clawing his back.
Noah staggered, then collapsed in the grass. Ruscoe stood proud, barking victoriously. His supporters began barking as well, and all the undecided dogs immediately joined in. "Get on your paws, Noah, and run fast. You're banished from the Purebreds' territory."
The injured Noah stood up, breathing heavily, and nodded to his supporters. Club, Razor, and a few other dogs came to his aid. "Let's get outta here. We ain't welcome no more." Rita watched the losers run from Battery Park, heading out of Lower Manhattan altogether.
The winning dogs let out a round of barking. Ruscoe climbed atop a large rock to address his gang. "Now we do things my way!" he howled. "Now we attack the Underdogs without mercy! We know they're in Central Park, so at midnight, we invade."
Everyone applauded with more barking and hollering. Rita barked too, so she wouldn't look suspicious. She knew the truth. The Purebreds were weaker now, and now with Noah gone, they'd lost the brains behind the brawn. The Purebreds were divided for the first time, and that, Rita knew, would mean their downfall.
The plan had worked. She had infiltrated and divided the enemy.
There was a storm brewing over New York City. Ominous thunderclouds rolled over the skyscrapers and brownstones, and the New Yorkers below rushed to get inside before the downpour burst. There were few people left in Central Park besides the downtrodden homeless, who had to do the best they could with cardboard boxes.
In the park, the gathered Underdogs were no longer in the deepest part of the woods. They had a new plan, and it involved moving everyone out of Central Park. Their hideout was known to the enemy; they had to leave.
While the Underdogs left, the lone cat among them was trudging through the wet grass. Adena had gone to Fifth Avenue many times, but that had all been Purebred missions — find where Oliver lived, then lure Oliver into a trap — never on her own accord.
Her heart ached as the dark clouds above boomed and bolted lightning, ready to shower all of Manhattan at any moment. Finally, Adena found the mansion she was looking for.
"Oliver?" she meowed to an open kitchen window. No reply. She went around to the other side, the billiard room, and peeked in the window. "Oliver, are you there?" She didn't see him. At last, she went to the living room window and saw him on the sofa. "Ollie?"
His eyes widened when he saw her. "Why are you here?"
"Come to the window, Ollie… I wanna talk, to explain myself, if you'll…"
"What? If I'll give you another chance?" The ginger tabby cat leapt from the sofa and onto the windowsill. They were separated by a pane of glass. "Why should I?"
"I don't know," she said quietly. "I guess I wouldn't forgive me either, if I were you. All I can say is I… I thought I had no choice. The Purebreds threatened me all the time. I was so scared… they never let me leave, but this time I — I risked it. I escaped for good."
Oliver was silent at first, then, "I'm glad you're safe. But you hurt me."
"Ollie, I… I know I can never make that right, but I…"
"You hurt me, Adena, because I fell in love with you. And you betrayed me." He looked at her hard through the glass window. "What hurts most is that I still love you."
"I love you, too, Ollie. I've never felt this way about another cat before."
"Really?" His voice rose. His eyes were wet. "You really mean it?"
"Yes, Ollie. You're the best part of this rotten city. I love you."
He looked at his paws, shuffling them in embarrassment. "It's about to storm," Oliver said at last. "I know what it's like to get stuck in the rain."
Oliver left the windowsill and exited the living room, mewing down the hallway, and returned with a red-haired girl in a pretty blue dress. She and her parents had just returned from the Sunday service at the church they attended. "What is it, Oliver?"
He led Jenny to the windowsill, where Adena was waiting pitifully.
"I remember you," Jenny said, opening the window at once and taking the poor wet calico into her arms. "I named you Adena, didn't I?" The cat licked her face affectionately.
It took her parents a little convincing, but Jenny insisted Oliver needed a feline friend. She needed a bath and a flea treatment, then for the first time in her life, Adena had a home.
The sound of twenty strong dogs charging through the city streets, then into the greenery of Central Park, off the grass and into the deeper forests, was like galloping horses. There were barks and growls, and even a few howls, from the vicious Purebreds.
They were like a wolf pack chasing after an elk in the frozen north. They were muscular dogs, large breeds like Rottweilers and Greyhounds and Great Danes, and they were led by a Doberman Pinscher with an uncropped tail and ears. Ruscoe shouted to his pack, "Let's tear them up, boys!" He smiled at the Saluki beside him. "And girls, too."
Rita returned what she hoped was a convincing smile.
The scent of their rival dog gang was unmistakable; there must've been a hundred or more of the mongrels hiding in Central Park from the amount of smell that was in the air. To the humans, it may not have been noticeable, but a canine nose was dead on.
"This way!" Ruscoe barked like a hellhound. "Let's cleanse this city!"
The Purebreds burst into the deepest part of the park, the Ramble where there were thick trees and bushes for canines to hide themselves in. It was almost like they'd left New York City altogether and now find themselves in the forest, on the hunt, like wild dogs.
"They were here," Ruscoe growled irritably. "We can all smell them… so where are they?" His eyes darted about frantically. "Did they know we were coming? Did someone tip them off?" Their adversary was nowhere in sight.
Suddenly they heard movement from up above them. With dread, Rita realized that they were all standing in a dip in the ground, a small valley, with higher ground surrounding them. Higher ground meant their adversary was upwind, which meant they could sneak attack unnoticed. When Ruscoe wasn't looking, Rita fled into the woods, away from danger.
"Underdogs, attack!" The Purebreds looked upwards too late.
Skippy Dawg's gang charged into battle against the invaders. The massive, scarred Rottweiler appeared atop a boulder to begin the fight. It was chaos beneath him.
"Hold ya ground! I said hold ya ground!" Skippy barked at the top of his lungs. His Underdogs nodded and stuck their paws in the dirt, refusing to budge an inch as they slashed and crashed against their rivals. Skippy leapt off the boulder to join in the fight. Two of the pures were ganging up on a mutt, but once Skippy showed up, they ran off in fright.
"Are ya hurt? Can ya keep fighting?" Skippy asked. The dog licked one of his wounds and dashed off to keep fighting the good fight.
They had done well to lure the Purebreds into an ambush, using Adena's intel to tip them off to the attack coming, and Rita's infiltration to sow discord and cause a rift between Noah and Ruscoe, crippling the Purebreds' numbers. Those advantages meant that even though the pure breeds were larger and stronger dogs, there were fewer of them, so they were being attacked by two or three Underdogs at a time. The battle was quickly turning in their favor.
In the midst of battle, Skippy saw dogs he'd befriended lying on the ground in pain, others not moving at all, some whimpering and moaning. Purebreds and Underdogs alike were among the wounded. Skippy saw three pures ganging up on a little mutt. "How about picking on somebody ya own size, eh?" He charged at them, growling.
"Keep fighting, Underdogs! We're winning!" Skippy barked, running through the middle of the forest clearing. "Don't give up! They ain't taking more territory tonight!"
"Keep attacking, Purebreds! It's not over yet!" Ruscoe barked to his dogs, but even he was smart enough to realize when a battle was over. He looked all around and saw no victory.
He didn't want to embarrass his father's name. But he had no choice. "Ceasefire!"
The moment he said the word, the dogs drew apart to either side of the clearing.
"Skippy Dawg," the Doberman said, glowering. "Traitor to his own kind... I hate to admit it, but this battle is over. Your gang of mongrels have got us evenly matched."
"Evenly matched? I'd say ya lost. We Underdogs ain't going anywhere."
Ruscoe looked at the battlefield with a scowl. "You may have won this battle, but the gang war isn't over yet. You Underdogs are going to bow before us or leave Manhattan for good. Your choice." Ruscoe nodded for his dogs to move out.
"Oh yeah?" Dodger said, finally stepping forward. "How about setting a rematch?"
The Doberman looked him over with an amused chuckle. "A rematch?"
"That's right. Your Purebreds versus our Underdogs. Tomorrow at midnight."
"It's a date," Ruscoe cackled. "And where is this rematch taking place?"
Dodger thought long and hard. "Yankee Stadium. Let's make it a real ballgame."
"Fine by me. Tomorrow night, we'll euthanize you mutts."
And with that, Dodger watched the remaining Purebreds turn and leave with their heads held high. Some of them limped away, some managed to stagger to their feet, but a few of the Purebreds were left lying on the ground, either unconscious or worse.
Dodger watched Rita leaving with the enemy. She had avoided the fight, but she was still keeping up the ruse of being one of the Purebreds. They locked eyes for a moment, fear passing between them. For now, the game was still afoot.
