Yesterday is gone, and now Rocco believes that I like the Ridgeback. No way! She's smaller, weaker, not to mention, she's a dog! So, he had said, I'm a dog.

Ugh.

"So, are you going to talk to her?"

"No," I say flatly, "and don't you dare pester me anymore, you sad excuse for a bulldog." Rocco just shakes his head. Good for him. Whatever. I let a deep growl come from my throat as I check through a garbage bin behind the Pizza Palace. Nothing. The idiot trash deliverers must have taken it. I wonder if they know they're taking away food from animals. Rude human beings. I hate them as much as I hate dogs, if not more. I leap on top of the next garbage bin. I gnaw at the handle and push it up until the lid clatters onto the dirt. Again, I turn up empty.

"Why don't we go to Huckleberry Street, they usually don't get the trash there until after five," Rocco suggests.

"No!" I say too quickly.

"I get it," he says.

"No, no you don't," I mutter without looking at him. But he's right. Those stupid hunks of metal gather up the trash early around here. They don't get over to Huckleberry for a good while. I sigh. Fine. But I'm making this trip quick.

I'm scared I'm falling in love with a dog. A nasty mutt. Nope, I can't let that happen. That's why I'm going to avoid her. Rocco and I turn into the Street. No Rhodesian Ridgeback. Check. No people? Check. And what better? No dogs. Not even that ridiculously cute puggle across the street from the widow lady that I so dearly—no, don't love—like. Yes, that's better. I involuntarily go past the black iron bars and into the woman's yard. Great. She left half a steak. I snatch it as quick as I can. I pause. No sounds. I take off back towards the awaiting Rocco.

"Here, take half," I say.

"Half of a half. Hmm. The rations these days," he mumbles. I roll my eyes. "Shouldn't we be saving some for Heath and the gang?"

"No, are you out of your mind? Besides, then you'd be getting a quarter of a half," I snap. How many times do my answers have to begin with N-O? Then I hear barking. I wheel around. And there she is. Laying on the plush pillow in front of a bay window is the Ridgeback. My face grows hot as I glance around. She's looking towards my direction. Correction, she's looking at me. Dang it, I do like her. No, no I can't. And I won't. I huff to myself. "C'mon, Rocco."

"You just going to leave her like that?" he asks in disbelief. "If I had a chance to get a girl, then—"

"Okay, okay, just stop there," I command. "Anyways, what do you want me to do? Huh?"

"Talk to her maybe?" Oh yeah, great idea Rocco, talk to her, that's—wait, that's not such a bad idea. Maybe. I guess I may as well get another 'friend'. If you could possible call a dog that. But how about my reputation? Sure Heath and gang don't care. They know that I'm scared of them. But the others. The other big guys that I just beat on by tormenting them. If I become friends with another dog… Well then… some things may take a turn for the worse.

A/N: Again I'm going to ask for a review before the next chapter, this way I can spare a while to write some of Bandit. Heehee. Thanks for reading! I hope it's okay... ;)