Song 16: "Streetlife Serenader"
The streets of Harlem were illuminated with water from the downpour and light from the streetlamps. Wind blew scraps of wet newspaper, cardboard, aluminum cans, and other debris around the neighborhood. Some of the trash ended up in the abandoned metro station.
Raindrops formed a deluge that swept down the stairs into the subway station where the homeless gathered. On one side were three men gathered around a trashcan fire.
On the other side of the station was a scruffy man in a tattered green trench coat surrounded by dogs. "Can't go on like this," Fagin mumbled, shivering in the corner. "Can't go on." He bowed his head, teeth chattering.
His oldest dog, Einstein the gray Great Dane, put his head in his master's lap. Einy was weary from the weather and old age, but he kept going out of love for Fagin.
The other dogs of the Company were huddled together to keep warm. Tito the Chihuahua and Francis the English Bulldog were sleeping soundly in each other's arms. They had three puppies sleeping with them, a brown boy, a white girl, and a brown-and-gray spotted boy. While everyone else was asleep, the spotty pup named Billy was awake.
"Where'd ya go, Momma?" he whispered, looking all around the station. He whimpered, just quiet enough to not wake anyone. "Where'd ya go?"
While the rest of the Company slept, poor little Billy was crawling up the slippery steps to sit at the entrance of the subway station, under the yellow caution tape that marked the station as condemned. "Momma?" he called out. "Where are ya?"
The rain gradually came to a halt. Harlem was left sparkling from the downpour, shining from the streetlights overhead and the glow of apartment building windows. Though the night was scary to a puppy, there was enough light that he felt safe enough to take one trembling step out of the station. He crossed onto the sidewalk, leaving the Company behind.
At midnight, the Company slept while little Billy was escaping, searching.
Exhausted from the gang war, from the loss of his once-upon-a-time-friend Noah, and from all the conflict and chaos that had ensued, Dodger returned to Yankee Stadium. He wove through the crowd of Underdogs and fleeing Purebreds, seeking out his friends.
He came upon Skippy Dawg first. "Are ya hurt bad, Skippy?"
"Nah, I'll live," the great black Rottweiler said. "Ya see all tha scars on my body? I've dealt with worse than this." There was a jagged scar on his flank that must've come from a serrated knife. There was surely a story there, but Dodger didn't ask.
Then he sought out Rita and Charlie. "How are ya guys holding up?"
"Tired, but we're okay. Didn't get banged up too bad," Rita said.
"We'll walk it off," Charlie grimaced. "What about yourself?"
Dodger hadn't had the chance to think about his own injuries. He was bitten and bruised several times over, but he had long-endured pain growing up on the streets. "I'll be fine." He gave both girls a friendly nuzzle. "Let's head back to the Company."
And so, with the final battle of the gang war concluded, Dodger and Rita and Charlie left the stadium behind and began the long journey from the Bronx down to Harlem.
The three dogs hopped to the roof of a taxi cab zooming to Harlem, and that made the trip easier. When they arrived at the abandoned subway station, they leapt down and entered. Rita filled Dodger in on what had happened to Fagin while he'd been away, about how their poor master had been evicted from his apartment and they'd taken refuge in the station.
"I'm so sorry to hear that," Dodger said, shaking his head.
"We've been okay so far," Rita said. "But Fagin don't know what to do."
They crossed under the yellow caution tape and entered the condemned station. They gave the homeless camp on the other side of the station a wide berth, running over to Fagin's side. "Hee hee hee," the man giggled while his dogs licked his face. "Nice to see ya too, boy. I was starting to think we'd never see ya again."
The Company was all thrilled to be reunited, and there was much tail wagging and rear end sniffing. Even though they'd been starving and freezing and homeless on the streets, they were happy to all be together again. It made their sorrows easier.
"So tha gang war is finally over," said Tito, hopping around happily.
"And good riddance," Francis added with a dignified humph.
"Now we're all back together," Dodger said, looking around at everyone with nothing but joy. No sarcasm, no snark, nothing but sheer bliss that they were all alive and well at the war's end. He was greeted by two bouncing puppies, his siblings Stud and Kitty, who licked him all over. "Wait a minute," he said, horrified. "Wait a doggone minute. Where's Billy?"
They immediately searched all over the metro station, but there was no sign of his little half-brother. They even searched the train tracks, in case Billy had fallen over the side, but he wasn't down there. "Dog gone," Tito said. "I see what ya did there."
"Not the time for jokes, Tito!" Rita huffed. "This is serious."
"How could ya not have noticed he was missing?" Charlie barked.
"I don't know — we were all asleep until you came in," Francis explained.
"Then he must've left while you slept," Rita said.
"We have to find him. We have to split up and search Harlem."
"He's a small fellow, he couldn't have gone very far."
"Then let's go! There's no time to lose," Dodger shouted.
Although all the dogs were exhausted from the fight and starvation, although it was the earliest hours of the day and still dark outside, newfound energy burst through them as they took to the neighborhood streets in search of Billy. Everyone went except for old Einstein, who stayed behind with the puppies. They whimpered, worried for their brother.
"Let's split up and search," Dodger suggested.
And so they did. Rita and Charlie went off in one direction, Frankie and Tito went another, and Dodger went a third direction by himself. He ran as fast as his legs could stand to run, his heart pounding in his chest. He had to find his little brother. He had to.
"Billy!" he shouted. "Billy, where are ya?"
Dodger searched high and low through the city streets, searching everywhere for the poor pup. The storming rain which had slowed down earlier had now resumed in full. The storm clouds overhead were back to pouring rain, and lightning flashed on and off.
He couldn't help remembering the night that Fagin had found him and brought him back to the houseboat. That had been another stormy night, and Dodger recalled how drenched he'd been. He hated to think of poor little Billy as wet and cold as he'd been.
"Billy!" he said again. But the rain made it hard to hear any reply.
Now Dodger was soaking wet himself, and he crawled under an open dumpster lid to keep out of the downpour. The storm was an indication that the worst of winter was over and spring showers were on the way, but the weather hadn't warmed yet.
"Billy!" he barked at the top of his lungs. Finally, a whimper.
It came from the next alley over. Dodger immediately ran out from under the dumpster and entered the next alleyway, where a white tail was sticking out from a shamble of cardboard boxes. Little Billy was inside, desperate to keep warm, though the boxes were soaked.
"It's okay now, Billy. It's ya big brother, I'm here. I'm here."
"Dodger?" the pup coughed. "Are ya really here?"
"Yes, bro. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere." Dodger crawled into the mess of cardboard boxes beside his little brother. "But why did ya run away?"
"I was looking for Mom," he said plainly. "She was here and then she… she went away." Billy buried his head in the wet cardboard and began to cry. "Where did she go?"
"Oh, Billy," his older brother said. "I think ya already know."
Billy sniffed back his tears and nodded. "She's dead, isn't she?"
"Yes, Billy. She passed not long after ya were born."
"Then it's my fault she died. I killed her."
"Don't ever say that. It was nothing ya did." Dodger cradled his little sibling. "There was nothing any of us coulda done to help her. It was just… meant to be."
"I miss her so much," the puppy whimpered. "I wish I was with her."
"So do I, little bro. But since we can't be with her, I'm glad I'm with ya."
For the first time, a flicker of a smile crossed Billy's face. "Me too." He snuggled up against his older brother, who looked so much like him they could've been twins.
When Dodger looked at him, it was impossible not to remember the puppy he'd once been himself. Billy made him remember what it'd been like to be a lonely pup in a cruel city, a neighborhood that only the tough and clever survived. But he'd survived it.
Dodger remembered running away from his mother after she'd said she didn't want him anymore. He recalled his fight with young Razor, escaping into a rundown building and finding a piano in the basement, camping out there for months. He remembered stealing to survive and outwitting people and other dogs, until the day he'd met Fagin outside a bar. Then he remembered being given a bandana and a name, after the baseball team. And of course, the fateful night that Fagin had carried him home out of a storm.
"Y'know, when I was ya age, I was totally alone on these streets," Dodger told his little brother. "But would ya believe it, I survived. I beat New York."
"How did ya do it?" Billy asked, wide-eyed. "Tell me, please!"
"Settle in, then, cause boy, do I have a story for ya."
And so they spent the next hour waiting out the rain, huddled inside cardboard, telling story after story of how Dodger had gotten by as a pup. Billy was fascinated by them all, and soon his tears were gone.
By the time he was through talking, the rain had gone away.
There was much relief when Dodger walked back into the abandoned subway station with Billy behind him. The rest of the Company had returned, and now they were all soaking wet from the rain outside. That resulted in a great group of dogs all shaking water droplets from their fur at the same time. "Stop it, guys! Hee hee hee!" Fagin laughed, getting wet.
The dogs all crowded Billy, so happy to see him back safe and sound, until Dodger had to tell them all to give him some space. Billy nuzzled his older brother warmly.
"Never leave us like that again, mister!" Tito shouted.
"We were most distraught, young sir," Francis said.
"Yeah, and we missed you, too," Einstein said endearingly. Then the Great Dane let out a nasty cough and laid his head in Fagin's lap. The chilly air didn't agree with him.
Nine dogs surrounded Fagin, nine stomachs to feed, and it wasn't long until everyone was aching for a meal. Luckily, while they had been out searching for Billy, Rita and Charlie had managed to steal a link of hotdogs from a street vendor. They all devoured the hotdogs in record time. "Hey, save some for me!" Fagin laughed, eating two of the beef franks.
"Glad we're all together," Fagin said, scratching Einy behind the ears, "but we can't last like this forever. We're gonna end up freezing or starving to death."
A spark lit up in Dodger's mind. He barked at Fagin, then ran up the stairs.
"What's that, boy?" Fagin asked. "Ya want us to follow ya?"
Dodger barked confirmation. He ran back down and tugged on Fagin's coat.
"Well, what have we got to lose? Let's go, everyone."
And so Fagin rallied his nine dogs to leave the station and return to the streets, following Dodger's lead. They managed to fit Frankie, Tito, Stud, Kitty, and Billy in the cart of Fagin's motorbike, while Rita, Charlie, and Einstein walked on the ground.
Fagin rolled the bike slowly so they could all stay together, with no one falling behind. Soon they had left the streets of Harlem behind altogether and were quickly heading down Manhattan. They crossed into the Upper West Side, walking under street lamps and past alleyways where other homeless people slept on makeshift beds of newspaper and cardboard. The ones with sleeping bags were the lucky ones.
Then they were out of the Upper West Side, heading closer and closer to Midtown, when Dodger had them cross the bottom end of Central Park. They walked all across West 59th Street, going from the west side of the city to the east side.
It was then that Fagin realized Dodger was leading them to Fifth Avenue.
"Oh, Dodger," the shabby man said reluctantly. "We can't go here."
Dodger whined and woofed and insisted they keep going.
"I can't go to the Foxworths," Fagin said. "I know they got money, but I… I can't ask for a free handout. I can't be begging them. I just… No, I'm sorry, boy, but no."
Dodger grabbed the man's trench coat in his teeth and tugged him forward.
"I know we're starving, but we can't… I can't just ask…"
What Dodger didn't realize was that the looming skyscrapers and terrifying penthouses were towering oppressively over Fagin, were judging and condemning him like he was worth no more than the abandoned subway station he had crawled out of. Dodger had been at home on Fifth Avenue for a few months, but Fagin had only come here once before.
That had been for Jenny's birthday, after they'd rescued her from Sykes. They'd had a grand time, but to return to their mansion uninvited was more than Fagin could bear.
Dodger couldn't understand the pressures of the class divide, the feeling that Fagin was less welcome on Fifth Avenue than a moldy bagel. In Dodger's mind, the Foxworths were good and kind people who could help them out of their bad situation.
"No, boy, we can't just walk up and knock on the door and… Oh, I'm sorry, I know we're starving, but that don't mean…" Then Fagin's shoulders drooped. "Okay. Ya win." He rolled his motorcart farther up the avenue. "We can ask."
And so Fagin crawled up to the front of the Foxworth mansion, trembling like a newborn pup, and slowly, quietly, knocked on the front door. No one answered. He took a deep breath and knocked much louder. He rang the doorbell and straightened his back.
"Hello?" came the voice of Winston the butler. "Whoever could that be — Why, Mister Fagin! Whatever are you doing here?" The portly man threw the door open.
"I… I hate to ask… to be a burden… but ya see, we were… evicted."
"Oh, goodness gracious! How awful for you. I'm so sorry."
"We've been on the streets… for weeks now. We need… We need help."
"Why on earth didn't you come to us sooner, dear man?"
"I… I just couldn't bring myself to… to ask for a handout."
"Asking for help," Winston said, "is nothing to be ashamed of."
Winston ushered the homeless man and his nine dogs into the living room of the Foxworth penthouse. They waited on the sofa — after they'd allowed Winston to put down sheets over the furniture, to keep off dirt and dog hair — until Mr. and Mrs. Foxworth appeared from down the grand staircase. They greeted Fagin enthusiastically.
"Fagin, good to finally meet you!" Mr. Foxworth said. "I don't believe we've ever had the opportunity to be properly introduced, since we missed you at Jenny's last birthday party." He walked up and shook Fagin's hand. "But you are the man who saved our little girl. You are welcome here anytime, good man. Anytime."
"I came here to… to ask for help. We were evicted from our apartment."
"How awful!" Mrs. Foxworth said. "Of course we can help you."
"Ya see, I lost my job because of my… my gambling and drinking and smoking… I'm trying to quit, but it's just so… so hard. Then we got the eviction notice."
"I'm trying to quit smoking myself," Mr. Foxworth mused.
"I don't wanna impose, but could ya… loan me some cash?"
"I can do that and more," Mr. David Foxworth said, "It just so happens that we need a new janitor at my business. How would you like to come work for me?"
"A job?" Fagin was on the verge of tears. "Yes, please!"
"I can promise you good pay and the best benefits imaginable."
"Oh, bless ya, Mister! That's the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me."
"As I said," David said, "You saved Jen's life. We can never repay you enough."
The first order of business was for Fagin to take a shower. He was shown into the grand master bathroom upstairs, where he could finally strip off his filthy clothes and wash the grime from his body. He cleaned his hair and trimmed his scruff. Then Fagin borrowed a pair of David's pants, shirt, and coat, and he looked like a new man.
Jenny Foxworth was thrilled to see him; she gave Fagin a tight hug. "I'm so glad you're here," she said, kissing him gently on the cheek. Fagin embraced her.
Then Jenny went to work giving each of Fagin's nine dogs a bath in the downstairs bathroom. They were all dirty, and by the time she was done, the water was a mucky brown. She rubbed each dog clean with a towel, giggling as they licked her face.
"Is this your little brother, Dodger?" she asked when she got to Billy. "He looks just like you! And the others, they're your brother and sister, too?" Jenny was ecstatic.
After everyone had cleaned up, they all gathered in the living room and played with one another. Dodger reunited with Nancy, and they sat together cuddled on the sofa. Rita and Charlie were in an armchair together, watching their adopted pups play with Oliver and Adena. The calico didn't like the roughhousing, but Oliver was happy to play tag with them.
"Alonzo, how happy I am to see you again!" Georgette cried.
"Don't play me, woman!" Tito barked. "Ya only want me to play dress-up."
"Why no, not at all! I've missed you terribly! Please, come back to me!"
"Never ever! Not in a million years! Tu mujer loca!"
They all tried not to laugh at Georgette's face. She'd never been dumped before — it was always her doing the dumping — and her horrified expression was a sensation.
In the kitchen, the adults were all busy working on a meal. Winston was normally in charge of the cooking, but since the gathering was impromptu, they all decided to pitch in. David helped season and roast the chicken, May made everyone salads, Fagin cooked vegetables, and Winston went to work on a glorious cake. Dinner was done in no time.
They distributed canned dog food to everyone — two cans each, for they were all so starved — until Jenny was satisfied that they'd been fed enough.
Then Jenny sat at the table with her parents, Winston, and Fagin. They said a prayer and began to share. They enjoyed a delicious meal, and Fagin had never eaten so well in his life. He had a new job as a janitor, he had a whole wing of the mansion to stay in temporarily, and he had an excellent dinner. There was nothing more he could ask for.
There were few times in his life he'd been truly happy. This was one.
