A/N: So I have decided that my New Year's resolution is to finish this story before I am too old to type. Pretty good promise huh? Well here is the next chapter. With any luck I will have another one up within the next few weeks. Tell me what you think and let me know there are still some readers out there!

"What are you looking at?" Mikey glared at the scrawny dog. It sat across the field in the very same spot it had been before, staring right back at him. His ears stood slightly forward and his posture was relaxed but alert. "I'm not feeding you anymore. Not after you bit me." Mike rubbed his injured hand. "That hurt ya know." He added a bit more sharply.

The dog cocked his head and put a paw forward as if he was about ready to come running to Mikey.

"Oh no you don't. Come on Cokey. Let's get out of here." Mikey stood and Cokey followed him through the house and to the front porch stairs where they sat down again.

"Now what to do with you." He sighed. "I can't stay here forever and you can't stay here forever and you can't come home with me."

Cokey grunted and Mikey looked up at her. She had an old soccer ball in her mouth. "Alright give it here." He had taught her to play fetch yesterday, and now she wouldn't lay off it. He wrestled the ball from her and stood. Cokey pounded her fists to the ground in anticipation. With a grunt of effort he hefted the ball into the air and down the driveway. Cokey mewed and went charging after it. Mikey plunked his rump back on the porch step to contemplate his problem some more.

A movement caught by the corner of his eye distracted him. It was that stray dog again. His head was dipped as he lapped water from a dirty shallow puddle. As if noticing Mikey's gaze upon him, he slowly looked up. Lonely hungry eyes touched the soft part of Mikey's soul. His shoulders slumped. He went into the kitchen and reappeared a second later with the hot dogs he had been planning on saving for himself. He took one out of the package and put it in his hand. At the sight of the food the dog made a steady lope over to Mikey and ever so slowly eased the hot dog from his hand. Once the hot dog was free of Mikey's grasp the dog wolfed it down in one bite like it had never even been there. Immediately his nose shot back to Mikey's hand for more. Not finding anything worth eating in Mike's open palm, he licked the juices from each finger. By now Cokey had located the ball and was coming back with it. Upon her approach the thin dog's hackles shot up as he swung his head around to growl a mean growl at the careless trespasser. Cokey yelped and jumped back a foot. With another grunt of effort Mikey chucked the ball the whole way down the driveway. The green girl forgot her fear of the small black animal and ran off in search of her favorite toy. Mikey turned to seat himself again and discovered the dog's nose in the remainder of hi sausages.

"Hey!" He snatched them back but it was already too late for three more of the tasty treats. "I hope you're happy," he muttered to the dog who was trying to climb over him to get at the bratwurst. "That was supposed to be my dinner breakfast and lunch for today AND tomorrow."

Mikey stared down at his two remaining hotdogs.

The dog whimpered and pawed at his leg.

"You're the bold one aren't you? Is this the same dog who tried to take off my hand when I got too close?" He taunted.

The dog lunged at the package still clutched in Mikey's hand, but he was no match for the ninja turtle.

"Unless you have an idea about what to do with Cokey when I leave I don't want to hear it," Mike told the mutt.

The lumbering beast came back to the porch and Mike launched the ball into the air again. He smacked it with his fist, sending it even farther than before. With a shout of joy, Cokey was gone again.

Mike sighed and sat on the step again to contemplate his problem once more.

The dog next to him grumbled and crawled low to the ground in another attempt to get under Mike's elbow for the two remaining treasures of yummy goodness. He pawed and nosed but the turtle wasn't giving in.

Suddenly he stopped and raised his head, his ears perked forward then back as he lay still as stone.

Mikey noticed the sudden change of behavior and turned to look at him.

"Is this like a Lassie thing?" He asked the dog as he tried to see what he was seeing. The dog rose to his feet. His body leaned forward in a ready position. Ready to attack, or ready to run, Mikey wasn't sure. Finally just as Mike was starting to think the dog was psychotic he spotted the problem. A little red mini van was making it's way up the driveway. His heart skipped a beat. He jumped up and dashed inside the house, hoping that the occupants of the van missed his retreating green shell.

Turning on a pin point the dog scuttled after the green man who was running away with his hotdogs.

Once inside the house, Mikey watched as the van pulled up and parked. A little girl got out with who appeared to be her mother. The little girl wore a uniform and a brown sash. The Girl Scouts?

Instantly Mikey's mind started running through the scenarios. He could just pretend there was no one home. This idea was sounding rather good to him until he saw the little girl's eyes. They were full of hope as she clutched the order form tightly in her little hands. Besides, the thought of cookies made his stomach growl. With a sigh he trudged up the stairs to get his topside clothes.

The little girl stood outside on the porch reaching up on her tippie toes trying to reach the doorbell. Even with the extra effort, her mother had to lift her a few inches off the ground to reach the buzzer.

The little girl waited and waited and waited for what seemed like forever for the door to open. Finally the knob turned and there stood a figure dressed rather heavily for being inside. His head was covered with a stocking cap and oddly enough he wore sunglasses.

"Oh I'm sorry." The mother said. "Mrs. Jones used to live here and she always bought cookies from Tasha for Girl Scouts.

"Cookies!? I love cookies." Mike's mind was only on food after that mutt stole his hot dogs. "I love cookies! How much?"

"Three dollars." The girl said matter of factly as she presented Mike with the order form.

Mike felt about for some money but he came up with nothing.

"I'm sure I have some money in the house. Hold on I'll be right back." Mikey went dashing back into the house looking desperately for any stray nickels and dimes. He looked in the couch cushions, on top of the fridge, and in the freezer. Finally he found enough change on corner counter tops to meet the little girl's price.

As he ran back outside he noticed something off to his left. It was Cokey coming back with her soccer ball. Immediately he felt like panicking.

"Oh look at that. I only have a five. Let's go see if we can find any change." He motioned for them to come in even as he took a glance at Cokey lumbering toward them.

"Oh don't worry. I can break that. I have change in my car."

"No, wait don't!" Mike tried to keep her from turning but once she did it was almost impossible to miss the lump of fur and muscle coming at them from the open field.

Automatically by instinct the mother called her girl over and picked her up. Her eyes stayed transfixed on what she saw as a beast. She took a few steps backward as if preparing to run, but failed to complete the action.

"Wait wait! It's okay! She's friendly."

Mike held out his hands. He stepped in front of the mother and he little girl. The mother stood frozen with fear. Mike stepped off the porch and clapped his hands.

"Come 'er Cokey."

Cokey grabbed the ball up she had been playing with and ran over to Mike as fast as her lumbering body could carry her. Mike gave her a pat on the head and Cokey leaned toward him, begging to be petted more.

The little girl in her mother's arms long got over her surpise. She reached a hand out as she stretched toward Cokey.

"She's pretty Momma."

The mom pushed her girl's hand back, not allowing her any closer to the creature.

"Why isn't she attacking you?"

She asked as Mikey continued stroking Cokey's long green fur.

"Well first of all her name is Cokey and she's a girl. She's only a kid. Here." Mikey pulled out a handful of Cheerios and gave them to the mother.

Cokey's long neck snaked out as she gently probed for the food. The mother tensed as she came near.

"It's okay. She won't hurt you."

The mother's hand shook so hard that some of the cheerios tumbled to the ground. Cokey, seeming to sense this, advanced with utmost caution. She gently nudged the mother's finger aside as she searched for the tasty treats.

"Her mother and sister were killed. My family helped me raise her." Mikey tried to reassure her. "She would never hurt anybody."

Mikey took the mother's trembling hand into his own and placed it on Cokey's head. If it was possible, she began to shake even more.

"She's an orphan."

Cokey titled her head up a little, urging the mother to pet some more.

"She doesn't have a momma?" Tasha asked as she attempted once again to place her hand on the long green fur.

This seemed to flip a switch in the mother. She blinked and the trembling eased in her hands as she stroked the back of Cokey's neck.

"No. No she doesn't…how old is she?" The mother asked.

"She's three maybe four. She's still a little kid. She likes Cheerios a little too much and now people are trying to kill her. I came up here to make sure she didn't get hurt, but now I have to go back home to my own family and she can't come with me.

"Can she do any tricks?" Tasha asked as she cocked her head to the side with a smile.

"Oh you bet. Watch this," Mikey smiled as picked up the soccer ball.

I haven't been head bashing with Raph in forever. Casey thought as he strode across an open rooftop.

They were still best friends. Casey still tinkered in the garage with Raph just as much as before, but after Raph went blind it seemed like he lost his need to pulverize goon skull. It had to have been at least two months since they had gone out looking for trouble together.

Casey's head snapped up as he heard the familiar sound of trashcans falling over. A harshly whispered curse told him something more than a stray cat was in the next alley.

The night was slow though so he decided to investigate.

He headed for the fire escape, making his way down to the street before venturing any closer to the alley. Casey may hang out with ninjas, but even he knew he was no good at the stealthy tick to the shadows stuff.

He pulled down his mask as he rounded the corner and was greeted with a scene he enjoyed just a little too much.

A large goon was giving his best shot at picking a lock to the back entrance of a jewelry store. His clean shaven head was turned away from Casey as he worked deligently at the door knob. Casey figured he would never get in at the pace he was going, but a criminal was a criminal and he should probably be taught a lesson.

"This is why they say to go to college. If it turns out you're not a good thief then you have something to fall back on." Casey announced his presence as he pulled his favorite hockey stick from his bag.

The man started and then straightened up. Casey tapped his hockey stick in his hand as he patiently waited for the presumed drunk to turn around.

With a sniff and a drag of his hand across his nose, the punk slowly turned to face Casey.

Casey's mouth hit the floor.

Cobart chuckled.

"The military is the way to go."

"Cobart! Hey you are supposed to be dead." Casey shook his hockey stick at him.

With another gravelly chortle Cobart shrugged.

"Had to come back and finish the job."

In a flash Cobart turned and pulled his favorite hunting knife from his belt. Throwing it by its blade, he neatly pinned Casey to the wall before the vigilante could do a thing.

Casey cried out as the blade pierced his shoulder. Cobart strode over and with a quick jab of his rifle knocked Casey out.

"And you're going to be the bait."

Cobart yanked his blade from Casey's shoulder and strode out of the alley. An old lady waited for him.

"You know what to do."

"Yes sir."

"Good. Get going."

"You could still stay here if you want you know," Don told Matt as he packed up his stuff to go topside.

"I appreciate the offer, but after a day and a half I'm sure my friend will be worrying."

"Well here." Don handed him a pair of crutches. "Use these for a little while at least."

"Again, not that I don't appreciate the help, but I'm not that short." He demonstrated by settling his six foot frame onto the crutches. His knees almost touched the ground even with his legs bent. "I'm fine to walk." He said again for the fifth time that morning.

"Really Don," Raph said as he entered the room. "Lay off already. It's just a scratch."

"With muscle damage, significant blood loss, and a concussion," Don countered. "Raph and I will walk you topside at least."

"Fine. I'll settle for that."

They headed toward the door, but the ringing of the phone stopped them before they reached their destination.

"I got it." Raph said as he stepped over to answer the device. "Hello? Are you serious?" Raph almost started to laugh, but didn't. "Well what do you expect me to do about it? Alright. Alright! Don't give yourself a heart attack. We'll figure something out."

Raph hung up the phone as he shook his head.

"Casey got arrested. He's in the slammer."