Chapter 4

Brian had undergone his first surgery and had five more to go. He was still in a full body cast, only this time, he was also in a motorized wheelchair. Quagmire, who had paid for Brian, drove him to the Griffins' now half destroyed house, got his stuff packed, and drove him to his house.

At the Griffins' house, Lois said, to the family, "Well, Brian's gone now, so things are going to be different."

Stewie then said, "Are we getting another dog?"

"Sadly, we can't afford it right now," Lois said, "First we have to pay to have this hole in our home repaired and for Peter to get his hair changed back."

Peter then said, "Says the same woman who looks like a carrot head."

"Oh," Lois added, "I almost forgot. We also have to pay for Peter to get mental help."

At Quagmire's house, Quagmire helped Brian into his bed.

"Thanks for doing this for me," Brian said.

"It was nothing," Quagmire replied, "Now; it's time to take your medicine."

He pulled out an oxycodone and a slice of a hot dog and stuffed the pill into the hot dog. He then gave the hot dog to Brian, who ate it.

Quagmire then petted Brian. "Good boy," he said and Brian replied,

"That's the first time you ever called me that. It's almost as if we went from being enemies to close friends."

"Well, it sure feels like it," Quagmire said, "We have started a new chapter in our lives."

"I agree," Brian replied, "Our hatred is history."

"It feels like I've reunited with an old friend," said Quagmire.

"Same," Brian said, "We started off as friends, then hated each other, and now we are friends again."

And he was right. Quagmire took care of Brian by: giving him his medication, feeding him, and siting on his bed side. Every night, Quagmire slept with Brian, to make sure that he was okay.

Four days later, Quagmire checked on Brian, once again.

"Hey Brian," Quagmire said to the dog, "How are you feeling?"

Brian answered, "Miserable. I'm tired of being confined to this damn bed."

Feeling sorry for Brian, Quagmire responded, "I know it's tough and I really wish that I could take away your pain."

"Thank you for your sympathy," Brian said.

"It's nothing," Quagmire replied, "I think what you need is to get out of the house. Maybe we can grab a drink."

"But I am in a full body cast," Brian pointed, "I can't move."

Quagmire then suggested, "How about I carry you. After all, you are a dog so you shouldn't be too hard to carry."

"Are you sure?" Brian asked and Quagmire said, "Just trust me."

So Quagmire carried Brian into his car, brought his wheelchair and drove to the Drunken Clam. When they entered people stopped and stared, but were doing it out of sympathy rather than pity.

"Is that your dog?" Asked a chick with long platinum blonde hair.

"Yes," Quagmire answered.

"What happened to him?"

Brian then said, "I can tell you."

"You talk?" the chick gasped.

"Yes," Brian answered.

"Mind telling us what happened to you?" the chick then said.

"Well," Brian began, "You see, I wasn't always the tortured shell of canine that writhes in pain before you today. I was a vibrant, carefree, happy go lucky dog."

Everyone showed concerned looks and Brian continued, "Upon watching TV at my old family's house, I found myself without any warning, getting hit and finally being crushed by a hard, unforgiving wrecking ball." After telling his story, questions aroused.

"How did you get hit by a wrecking Ball?"

"What do you mean as in your old family?"

"How long do you have to be in that cast?"

Brian explained, "I had a different owner at the time and he was stupid enough to swing on a wrecking ball. I didn't think that I would survive and I kind of wished that I didn't as I was in so much pain and none of the family wanted to pay for my medical expenses. Fortunately, Quagmire took me to his house and I now live with him."

"I thought you hated that dog," a guy, wearing a green polo shirt said to Quagmire.

"That is true," Quagmire pointed, "I hated this dog, but when I saw him like this, I knew I had to do something."

Brian added, "And when he came to my aid, I decided that I could no longer hate him."

"And that's how we became friends."

"Well," the blonde chick said to Quagmire, "You have such a big heart," and to Brian she said, "Also, you are such a brave and strong dog."

"I agree with my friend," another chick with brunette hair said.

Jerome then said, in tears, "Brian, your story really tugs my heartstrings. If I were in your position, I don't know what I would do. So anyway, what would you like to drink?"

"I'll have the usual," Brian said, "a glass of martini."

"Coming up," said Jerome and to Quagmire he said, "What would you like?"

Quagmire answered, "I'll have a couple of beers," and in a whispering tone he said, "I am stressed from taking care of an injured dog."

"Okay," the Jerome replied.

After they got their drinks, both Brian and Quagmire drank some more until they were drunk.

"Wow," Brian said, "Imma so drunk that I'm not in pain no more."

"That's good to heara," Quagmire replied.

"Hey guys," a man in a tux said to them, "I can take you home . . . in my fancy limousine."

"Wow," Quagmire said.

"Yup," the man said, "You deserved a ride in a limo."

When the man drove them home, Quagmire stumbled while pushing Brian in his wheelchair and when he carried him to the bed. The two then became knocked out.