Beth Road, the neighborhood behind Dalmatian Street, is a quaint area in London, England. The residents are shadows, keeping to themselves even on the busiest of days, and it's rare to hear a bark or meow from any home. Nevertheless, some new hound-y residents in freshly moved in terraced housing may change things. The house is a bit generic; standard business grey roofing with an attic window, and vermillion bricks lining the outside walls. Unlike the houses on Dalmatian Street, Beth Road homes have only two floors. Less expensive and less cleaning dust is a heaven-sent bonus! From within the home…
Clink, clink, clink! Grumble, grumble, tsssssss…
A second floor study room roars with mechanical machine mumbles. Once a barren upstairs room, the study transformed into a makeshift laboratory. While not as grand as a real one, the lab is lined with ingredients and equipment, perfect for any experiment. Between the rumbles, a man stares at the machines, watching liquids bubble and flow between tubes. One machine is filled with dark brown beans wafting an earthy aroma as they are dissolved into a vapor. The vapor is pulled through a column via helium, separating the original bean gas from the dissolving liquid. Results are recorded onto a complex graph that identifies the vital flavoring components. The man quickly scans the graph, eyeballing the crucial ingredients. In a flash, his hands fly into several different boxes, grabbing vials in every color.
"Now, to flavor the food…" Said the man named Neil. He opens a package of home-prepped poultry.
It is standard cuts of white meat chicken, flayed so that the strips can be pulled apart. Neil grabs two small bowls off a shelf, filling them with bits of the meat. Then, he grabs the various vials, taking a needle-less syringe and pulling droplets from each one. He leans over the bowls, ensuring the liquids are dripped with absolute consistency. Finally, Neil takes the two bowls and places them in a microwave for a couple of seconds.
Hum…ding!
A bit of steam erupts from the bowls, which house moderately brown tinted cuts of chicken. Neil places them down, curling his nose a bit at the odor. Weird, but not off-putting…almost like a morning diner's smorgasbord of smells. Neil hums to himself as he ensures his machines are off before taking the bowls out of the room.
Fwip-fwip-fuweep!
Neil puts a hand to his mouth: "Brooklyn, Beaumont, I need my favorite taste testers in the kitchen!"
Two doors down the hall rests a pair of hounds, gathering energy for the day. The hound bedroom is messy; somehow, there's already a dirty snood pile and dog toys pepper the room. Beaumont, the cow-spotted hound, swipes his paw against a tablet. He scrolls through troves of social media, lost in the internet. He wears the same basic snood, but the chef hat pin has been replaced with one resembling the typical grey alien. His dog bed is fluffy and grey, like a cloud on the horizon. Opposite to him is Brooklyn, the heavy browed hound with a pair of dog-friendly headphones. Her snood sits around her neck, working as a makeshift scarf to make room for the headphones. She rocks her head back and forth, caught in a hard rock web. Her dog bed is flat and black, appearing more like a floor mat than a place to sleep. Beaumont's loose skin catches up with him shaking out strands of fur.
Beaumont yawns: "Hey, Brooklyn. We gotta check out the neighborhood! I wanna see stuff we'd never see at home, y'know? …Brook?"
Brooklyn keeps bobbing her head. Beaumont steps over to her, patting a paw between her brows. She growls, moving her head away.
"What the heck, Beau!? I told you not to bother me!"
"I'm not 'bothering' you, I'm trying to talk! We can't stay in here all day, we gotta find stuff to do when Neil's out."
Brooklyn scoffs: "So? Do that when he's actually out, I ain't going anywhere till the room's done."
"Aight, lay around till you grow mold then. I'm gonna get my steps in with Neil whenever he stops labbin'."
"Mmhm…" Brooklyn hops up. "And since when are you so eager to explore 'The Capital', huh? You were just so heated about leaving home, and now you're acting like you love this brickstuff country!"
"Don't be like that…you know I miss it, I wanna keep my mind off it…"
"Yeah? And going to look around for Egghead will keep you busy, huh?"
Beaumont tilts his head. "Egghead? …Who?"
"I know you didn't forget, so stop playin'. Does 'm-maybe I'll see you two on a w-w-walk' ring a bell?" Brooklyn smirks, lifting a jowl up to her eyes.
"W-who said I was lookin' for him!?" Beaumont yells, his face burning. "…Don't do that. You know I don't like it when you do that."
Brooklyn reels with laughter. "Hahah! Do what? Talk about your—"
"—favorite taste testers in the kitchen!" Neil's voice cuts Brooklyn off.
"Ooh, there he goes!" Beaumont waddle-hops out of the room.
Brooklyn scoffs, following behind with a slow stride. The hounds take turns stepping down the lengthy stair steps, careful to watching their footing. Unlike most homes, Neil's kitchen is extremely dog-friendly! And for good reason too. Many dogs would give away their favorite chew toy to chew on random junk cooked up by a food chemist. Many dogs won't ever get a chance to do that. Brooklyn and Beaumont reply back to Neil's words with small woofs. They step down to the ground floor simultaneously, landing with a sizable thump. The hounds walk over to Neil, who turns to them with a wide grin. Neil pats Beaumont on the head and tries the same with a weaving Brooklyn.
Neil assures the dogs are in for a treat, sitting down two bowls, watching his dogs walk up to them with their noses going to work. The smell of fresh chicken hits like no other, but there's something odd about the other aroma. It's not a gravy, too dark for it to be that. Profile is very earthy, strong smelling, nearly blankets smells around it. What could that weird smell be?
Neil grins, "Alright, dig in!"
Chomp-chomp-snrf…blegh?!
Chicken goop smacks against the flooring. Beaumont shakes his head violently in disapproval! What the heck is that flavor, yuck!
"Oh, careful! It's kinda bitter." Neil scratches the back of his neck.
Chomp-chomp-snrf…gulp!
Neil's eyes go wide. Brooklyn's bowl is crystal clear, not a speck of food left in the bowl. She even goes back to lick just to make sure. Beaumont reels in disgust as Brooklyn's nose reaches his bowl.
"Huh. I'm lucky to have two testers! Seems like coffee-flavored kibble is gonna be a maybe…"
Rooooooooo!
Beaumont bays at Neil.
"Oh, nah nah. My formula's non-toxic, Beau! It just has the flavor profile of coffee. Decaf coffee. I gotta try tea next, get the local markets before I get customers back home. Anyway, lemme go and get dressed. Be back in twenty, we're gonna check out the neighborhood." Neil wanders out of the room, head in hand.
Beaumont flops around in agony: "THAT'S what coffee tastes like?! Why would anyone ever want that!? Nasty like dirt and fur mixed with…ugh!"
Brooklyn lays on the ground, sniffing the bowls a bit more. "I guess it would be to puppy taste buds."
"Nah, you got issues. No other dog on the planet would want somethin' like that!"
"We'll see when it's on shelves. Neil knows gimmicks make your wallet fat, let him have this."
"….Whatever gets us out the door faster." Beaumont lays on his back, staring up towards sunlight beaming from a window.
Egghead…what a corny nickname…but it sorta fits that guy, thought Beaumont. What was with that Dalmatian anyway? Staring's something that the hounds don't mind; when humans constantly latch their eyes on, it's something to get used to. But dogs never do that, especially to stranger dogs. For most canine, unknown dogs approaching in any manner means bark or yelp. So what was that one's deal? He wore such a funny expression, somewhere between "house training incident" and "caught sneaking extra kibble".
Still, since he is the first dog they met in Camden, it won't hurt to try and befriend him, right? It's easy to label somebody as weird and write them off. Maybe he was just shy?
Beaumont flips over, shaking the funky flavor from his fur. "I've made up my mind. Neil, let's make it ten!" Of course, Neil only hears barking.
"Keep it casual, Beau," Said Brooklyn. "My paws are asleep."
Suddenly, Neil steps down the stairs with a frown. "Ah…sorry Brook, Beau. Work called in, they want me to come in for a half day. The walk will have to wait till Wednesday. But hey, at least we got the backyard for now!"
He opens the sliding door. The Basset twins slump out onto the empty yard, lazing about. Beaumont does everything in his power to not give Neil puppy eyes. Brooklyn couldn't care less…she has already fallen asleep in the grass! Neil steps back in, quick to not look back at Beau's worsening expression.
Meanwhile, at 101 Dalmatian Street…
"Aha, brilliant!" Dawkins yells. "Come along, Fetch." A flatter, disc shaped Fetch skates toward the Dalmatian. "This Fetch Lite is perfect! All the features of the original without the fragility, beautiful as it is…"
Dylan Dalmatian furls a brow: "What was that about beautiful?"
"Oh dear…" Dapple adds. "Our brother has fallen for another machine. Pity."
"What!? Don't be absurd! 'Another machine', really…nothing can compare to the simple perfection that is the Fetch assistant…~"
Dylan chuckles, "If that's the case, why are you ditching the original for a sleeker model?"
Dawkins' gaze meets the fur covered floor. "I…can't tell you."
"Oh?" Dylan and Dapple exclaim.
"Personal research, that is all that I will say. Your efforts are appreciated, but now I must configure this Fetch to my liking. Thank you." Dawkins shoos them away with a limp paw.
Dylan rolls his eyes: "Okay, rude. But you know secrets don't last long this fam, Dawkins. Somebody's gonna find out eventually!"
Dawkins blows a raspberry. That doesn't matter to him, what matters is learning more about the new neighbors! He climbs into his cubby, quickly shutting the curtain behind him. Dawkins scrambles around a container, pulling out the original Fetch…except, not really. It's his personalized human personified Fetch, Fetch-Dodie Alpha! Dawkins grabs a loose USB cord, sticking it into the Fetch Lite and F-D A models. Both devices hum to life in unison.
TRANSFERRING DATA…DO NOT POWER OFF FETCH SYSTEMS…
"Right…this may take some time. I suppose this is a chance to unwind a bit." Said Dawkins.
But right when Dawkins' chin touches his bed…
"Umm, pardon me…" A delicate, hushed voice rings into Dawkins' ears.
"Or not…is something the matter, Da Vinci?"
She approaches slowly, looking up with foreboding stare. "I know your secret."
"M-m-my…what secret?"
Oh good heavens! There is no way she found out, I make certain that nobody will ever know! Has she been spying on me? And if so, what would she gain by knowing that? This must be a prank or some sort of psychological warfare! Mmh…calm down, Dawkins…Perhaps I should make an inquiry about her accusation. Yes, that should sort things out…
Da Vinci continues: "There's no point in denying it. I've been hearing you ramble about it for days."
"Err, just so we are clear, this is about…" Dawkins leans in. "The new dogs, correct?"
Da Vinci nods.
Dawkins exhales. "Ah, what a relief! I-I mean, uhh, you got me…"
She tilts her head. "Um, Okay…? But listen, Dawkins," Da Vinci flashes a determined glare: "I want in."
"Please don't tell anyone, I will never hear the en—wait, what?"
Da Vinci sits, "Yeah. If what you said about those neighbors is true, they seem like the perfect inspiration for a piece I've been working on. I would like to meet them before the fam does, if possible."
Fwump!
Dawkins' head flies out from behind his curtain. "Absolutely not!" He yells.
"What? Why not?"
"I don't want the neighbors to know about our…unique living conditions for now. It's too risky."
"But it would only be me! What if you need emotional support, like what if an awkward situation arises and you clam up? You and I both know you are not the most social pup around."
Dawkins sighs, knowing Da Vinci's blunt words are true: "Fine, you can come along, Da Vinci. Can you be discreet?"
"I've snuck around the town market with my bandana over my nose, quiet as a mouse. I believe I can be discreet, yeah."
"Hmm…and you won't tell anyone about this? Not even Dylan or Dolly?"
"Of course!"
"Hmm…."
"Paw promise on it if you're uneasy!" Da Vinci holds out an outer digit on her front paw.
Dawkins tries his best to emulate the paw position. "Alright, fine. Paw promise."
"Brilliant!"
Dawkins shakes his head in disbelief. "Right then, here's the plan…"
Notes: I thought it would be nice to write a chapter from the deuteragonist's perspective. Also thought it'd be cool to involve Da Vinci in the story a bit. Dawkins and Da Vinci never interacted on-screen in the show, so why not? It was a bit difficult balancing Da Vinci's character; since we know she has autistic traits, I imagine her being the more "innocently outgoing" type compared to the "homebody genius" type that Dawkins is.