Boom, Crash!
Several Dalmatian pups scurry across the house, running wild after a big lunch. Da Vinci and Delgado are on pupcare today. To some dogs, this means free time to be social, or catch up on hobbies that are gathering dust. But to others, this means an awful afternoon until Mum and Dad get back. At the moment, the living room is filled with pups circling around Da Vinci, providing a seminar on expression. At least, that's what she thought she was doing!
"Oi!" Da Vinci squeaks. "What happened to reflecting your moods on the canvases? I don't want to lose my vision…"
Dumpling Dalmatian furls a brow: "But my mood can't be on a canvas! It's expressed through…my…actions!" He hops up, flailing around his canvas like a chew toy.
Several other pups join in, swinging their expressions every which way. A rainbow of droplets splash onto every surface, including Dalmatian fur! Da Vinci pounces on her own canvas, ensuring that not a single strand off her tummy scratches her art. Da Vinci growls, barking with irritation. All of the siblings drop their canvases as their eyes go wide. Bursting with laughter, the pups roll around the floors, splotching the recently mopped flooring. Da Vinci quickly steps away, looking for the other caregiver of the day.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen…
Crunch!
A stool leg snaps, leaving the seat lopsided and useless.
Delgado gasps. "Dolce Vita! Mum and Dad will have our heads!"
Dolce Vita raises her nose: "Whose fault is that? I told you we should run out back, but no, it's 'too cold'. Hmph!"
"Argh, fine! Let's go freeze our tails off then! Better than being punished by Mum anyway…"
The pup-wave crashes through the halls straight out the back door. A sea of paw prints mark the floors, walls, and even other pups who didn't get out of the way in time. Normally, gasps and groans would follow, trailed behind by the scrubbing of a sponge. But Dylan isn't home at the moment; he and Clarissa are on an outing, their first in a long while.
"B-b-but, I just…agh!" Dawkins stomps his paws in frustration. "It is not my day, so it is not my problem. …I suppose a few scrubs in my path won't hurt, but I mustn't delay myself!"
Dawkins heads upstairs, rubbing a circular motion into a sponge with every step of the stairs. While everypup is busy mucking around the home, Dawkins prepares himself for a "real" tour, the meaning behind that phrase alluding the Dalmatian. Outside of locales in Camden, Dawkins and his family rarely go about the rest of London, or any other parts of Britain for that matter. Humans aren't exactly fond of dogs traveling by bus or vehicles, and they sure don't like human-less dogs traveling. The furthest they've traveled is their yearly visit of Cornwall, which requires loads of strings to orchestrate.
Finally making it into the pup bedroom, Dawkins heads towards a small armoire. It is a dingy brown color, tattered with claw marks and age alike. According to Delilah, it is a family heirloom, far enough back that it went through three generations of Dalmatians! Dawkins scoffs at the hunk of junk furniture; what good is an heirloom if it hardly functions? The armoire creaks open, revealing a mountain of dog accessories in a rainbow of colors. Collars, bowties, winter boots, and even pawlinks (that is, cufflinks for dogs).
Dawkins shuffles around the collars, going through blue, orange, black, red, and even hot pink bands for dogs. His ears shoot up as he spies his prize: a couple of refined looking vest shirts, similar to the kind Spencer Sausage-Dog likes to wear. There's one in sleek black with white highlights, another in bright red and a black collar, and a third with a cool shade of lavender finished with an ivory collar. Dawkins' eyes dart between the three vests; he groans as he tries each on without checking how they fit on him.
Dawkins taps his head with a paw: "Perhaps I am complicating something rather simple. I mean, they just moved into their home and their human is out most of the day. Disregarding that, I am by no means a qualified 'tour guide'! Hmm…a simple outing at the park could be nice…"
"Hey, the guerrilla goths called, Spence wants his vests back! Ahahahah!" Dolly guffaws from the top of the armoire.
Dawkins throws himself in the closet, "Ah! D-Dolly, do you mind!?"
"I was sleepin' here first, so, yeah, I kinda do. 'Sides, since when do you dress fancy-fancy? Or like, at all?"
"Since now! Can I have a moment to myself, please?"
"Gah, fine, don't get all red 'bout it…" Dolly hops down, striking a pose as she lands. As she heads for the door, she turns back to Dawkins: "Oh, by the way, lavender's totally your color. Pick that one."
Dawkins looks down at the lavender shirt-vest. He heads over to a mirror and tries on the clothing, squeezing his large head into the collar. It's a bit of a snug fit around the neck, but it isn't the worst feeling in the world. Miraculously, there isn't a single wrinkle in the shirt-vest, making it an amazing choice on short notice. But something's missing. Something to tie the look together…tie…
"Ah, of course!" Said Dawkins.
He finds himself in the armoire once again, digging through a box of bows. It is a collection of bows in every color, an apparent necessity for the nearly hundred Dalmatians living in the home. However, many of them have not seen the outside world since their first picture day, rotting away as forgotten accessories. After enough digging, Dawkins raises his paw to the skies, impressed by his find. At the tips of his claws rest a mint green bow, light and bright just like the lavender vest! He carefully moves back to the mirror, adjusting the pin of the bow into the vest's collar. Dawkins stares at himself in awe.
"The pastels blend wonderfully, and I do look rather dashing. But it's a bit much for walking around Camden, hmm…feeling unsure…"
Ding-dong!
"I'll get it!" Dolly yells.
Dawkins' paws smack against his cheekbones: "Oh, kibbles! They've arrived already!? Ah, hurry it along, Dawkins! Must prevent my robust relatives scaring them off!"
He stumbles over loose collars and bows as he quickly stuffs them back in their place, skedaddling to the lavatory. He quickly splashes his face in sink water, shaking it off before it can reach his vest. Dawkins takes a deep breath, clearing the clouds in his thoughts for just a moment. A couple of tension wiggles to himself in the lavatory, and Dawkins prances downstairs, eyes closed as Dolly chats with the dogs at the front door.
Squeak, ah! Pompf!
Dawkins smacks against the bottom stair, breaking his fall with a rubber ball. He can't bring himself to open his eyes. Three times, three times has Dawkins made a fool of himself in front of his new acquaintance! He tries to not move, hoping everybody will just leave him in his puddle of sulking. Just as he goes to groan, a hefty paw taps against his head. Dawkins raises his eyes a bit…
"You good?" Asks Beaumont.
Dawkins glances away: "Erm, yes…I have been unusually clumsy as of late, forgive me…"
Surprisingly, no other pups are in the house; a cacophony of barks and yips erupt from the backyard, accompanied by the occasional crash or two. Dawkins sighs in relief, instead looking back at his acquaintance. Beaumont wears his usual grey snood, this time sporting the chef hat pin instead of the alien one. From a glance, Dawkins notices slight differences. Beaumont's fur is now decidedly closer to his body, and his nails are now a manageable length.
Beaumont raises his brows: "Ohh, you got plans or somethin'? Cuz you got that biz on!"
"I simply felt like wearing something different for the tour. Is that unusual?"
"No, no! See, I was tryna compliment you…"
Dawkins hunches a bit: "A-ah. Erm, thank you…"
Dawkins catches a glimpse of Brooklyn. He can't see much different about her, sans the headphones on top of her snood. She drops them to her neck as she points at Dawkins.
Brooklyn gives an amused glance. "Heh. Now you're even dressed the part! When's the next act, I want front row for this circus, hawhaw!" Beaumont glares at his sibling.
Dolly looms over Brooklyn. "You throwin' shade at my fam?"
"Girl, please. I AM the shade." Brooklyn scoffs.
"I get it now! You're one of those types of goths." Dolly rolls her eyes. "What're you even doin' here? I know a couple of dark dogs you'd fit in with!"
"…Really? Why didn't you say so, lanky! Bark it out!"
Beaumont hops to the front door. "Hold on! Brook, we got plans! Don't bail on me." Beau turns to Dolly. "Dolly, I know we just met, but listen. We got a reason for being here. Your bro's treating us to a tour of Camden, right Dawkins?"
Dawkins shrinks: "Uh, yeah, I suppose…"
Dolly's head turns like a rusted crank at Dawkins. "You…!? Give a tour!? Pffft…hold up. Would you excuse us, you two?" Dolly brushes the Basset Hounds to the porch, closing the front door behind herself. She grabs Dawkins by the face. "Did you bump your head or somethin'? You know nothin' about touring Camden, Dawkins!"
"It can't be too difficult. I was simply going to take them to the park and around the local markets. They just moved here, there is no need to go wild."
"Oh, bro…" Dolly facepaws. "if you wanna impress your date, Dylan-isms ain't gonna work!"
"D-d-date?! Dolly, please! Don't speak at the volume, you'll incite a scene! That's beside the point, I am not going on a date!"
"Hmm…yeah, I guess you're right. It'd be pretty awk with that third wheel. So you want me to distract him?"
Dawkins furls a brow. "If anyone needs a distraction, it's Broody over there."
"What was that?"
Dawkins stares at the ground: "N-nothing! As I said, this is not a 'romantic outing' of any nature, Dolly."
"But the vest, and her…? I mean…huh?" Dolly shakes her head. "Never mind. Y'know what? I was kinda bored anyway. I can't lie to you bro; your plan is gonna put those two to bed. We can still do that, but lemme give 'em a dose of Dolly!" She smiles ear-to-ear.
"Wait, we!?" Dawkins slumps. "Kibbles! It is futile to argue against this. You'll come along even if I protest…"
"Don't be like that. I know Camden like the back of my paw. It'll be lit!"
"Feeling uneasy."
Dolly swings the front door open, nearly knocking the twins off the porch! With a flurry of words, she sets the group off on their mini-tour. Dolly front-runs on board, much to the chagrin of her younger sibling. Dawkins and Beaumont keep a steady pace behind Dolly, who circles back every few steps to maintain her momentum. Meanwhile, Brooklyn waddles a considerable distance behind the group, slack-jaw bored. The group first trails through the local areas, checking out small shops and districts filled with humans going about their day.
One stop is the corner market close to Dalmatian Street, recognizable for its rather podunk design. Operated by a freshly shaven human and his rowdy Pomeranian, Snowball, the shop garners a decent crowd in the morning. It's a great option for humans looking to grab a couple of trinkets and snacks before their day begins. Where the place really shines is for the dogs; Snowball the Pomeranian runs a drop-ship shop for Camden dogs who are in the know. Dolly waves at her friend Snowball as the group enter the shop.
It's an urban paradise of packaged snacks and bottles of oddly colored liquids. To some, it almost appears like a weird laboratory, lined with mysterious things dogs dream of tasting at least once in their lifetime. Stanislav, Snowball's human, stands behind the counter, briefly glancing up from his phone before slumping over once more.
Snowball hops from her post. "Dobroye utro. Ah, Dolly and Egghead Dalmatian, welcome. I see some new faces behind you. Are you chaperoning an event of some kind? Never seen Egghead wear a vest." (Dobroye utro means "good afternoon".)
Dolly pawbumps her friend, "Hey Snowball! They're the new neighbors that moved in last week! This is Beaumont and Brooklyn Basset Hound."
Beaumont and Brooklyn meekly wave, eyes caught by random packages scattered about. Nothing's recognizable! There's brands and products that seem familiar, but have a strange aroma to them. Less paper factory odor and more brick factory stank. Snowball chuckles at their awe; not even pups are this lost in a corner market! Dawkins' fur begins to feel damp. He taps Dolly.
"Now that I see my theory in practice, I understand the Dylan-ism about it. Can we go elsewhere?"
"Chill, Dawkins. Plus I got an idea. Hey, B Hound twins! I'll treat y'all to anything you want. Just gimme a bark."
Beaumont tilts his head. "Ah…that's cool Dolly, but it's like wandering onto another planet in here?"
"Girl, we just moved here. I ain't ever seen these products!" Brooklyn scoffs.
"Oh yeah, my bad. Snowball, can I get four packs of PupBerryPaws on my tab? I'll pay you later today."
"That you will." Snowball retrieves packs of pink colored dog biscuits. "Egghead still owes plenty, so the fam cannot hold heavy tabs until he pays me back." Snowball furls a brow at Dawkins.
Dawkins' face burns red as Beaumont and Brooklyn pretend to be busy. "Ah, I will get on that soon. Dolly, let's get back to it."
"Yeah, yeah, Dawkins! Thanks, Snowball!"
Dolly hands each pup a package of the pink dog biscuits as they meet outside the market. The biscuit is shaped like a dog paw, shaped with indents for digits and the pad. Its fuchsia coloration gives away its strawberry coating over a hollow treat filled with a thin layer of dog-friendly peanut butter. Dolly motor mouths about how the treats are her favorite and how she usually buys them just for herself, but made an exception. Brooklyn quickly tears into hers, not paying attention to the outside world. Beaumont stares at Dawkins, whose gaze is captured by an ant moving across the concrete. He thinks about getting Dawkins' attention, but decides to eat his own treat.
Dawkins finds a bit of fuchsia running down his arm as he sits motionless. He licks at it a bit, ensuring that his vision stays close to the earth. He feels his head become a bit heavy. Is this really the best that he could think of? Going to his supplier's market wearing a fancy vest like he's a big shot? Dawkins shudders, peeking over his shoulder. Each twin is busy with their own sweet treat as Dolly continues on about other products in Snowball's market. Eventually, the group gets moving again, avoiding teenagers and adults with their phones glued to their eyes.
"Continuing Dawkins' tour, here we are at the pa—" Dolly looks over her shoulder. "Feels like I haven't said this in forever. The paaaaark!"
"Dolly, no!" Dawkins ducks.
Brooklyn and Beaumont tilt their heads as the Dalmatian siblings relax a bit. Dawkins assures it's nothing unusual, just that Dolly's volume surprised him. The group heads through the gate, Dolly still leading the pack in the guide. As usual, the park is an extraordinary location for tourists and citizens alike. Walkways extend for miles, traveling through vibrant trees and bushes, even crossing a bridge over a small canal. In one corner, there's a large, swan-infested swamp-like lake, teeming with life. The surrounding trees shower the area with wispy leaves that fly through the air like silk. Finally, there's a fountain in the center, along with several statues of notable figures, including a local hero horse!
The group weaves through a human fair, skirting past the swarm of legs into a more grassy area. Dolly provides a brief overlook on what to expect at the humongous park, making sure to focus on the most unplugged aspects. Beaumont and Brooklyn lean in, curious as to what could possibly go on in sleepy London. Dawkins tries to interject, but eventually gives up. He thinks about taking a deep breath, holding his snoot to the sky as he does so. Beaumont glance at him with a frown. How could Dawkins not like being out here? There's enough space for hundreds of dogs to run free!
"But enough about this puppy place, wait till ya see the skate park! C'mon, it's straight through that overpass!" Dolly speeds off.
Brooklyn quickly hops behind Dolly: "Hey! Slow your roll, hawk! Don't leave me with these dorks!"
"Rude! You're ditchin' me, Brook!" Beaumont yells.
"Of course this went exactly as I anticipated…" Dawkins shakes his head. "Do not worry, Beaumont. Dolly may seem flighty, but she'll look out for your sibling."
Beaumont sighs, "Brook can take care of herself just fine, I— uh, never mind all that. We keeping this thing going?"
"Um, perhaps it would be better if we stopped this." Dawkins rubs his paws together. "I am awful at being a tour guide! Dolly coming along was a miracle. I am not good at planning things like this, please pardon me."
"Huh." Beaumont steps in front of Dawkins, gazing into his eyes. Dawkins whimpers a bit. "I don't know you like that, but I knew something was up when Dolly took over. I can tell when somebody's forcing something. You didn't have to tour us around, y'know? We could've figured somethin' else out."
"I-I know, I, um…this is embarrassing to admit, but I don't have many acquaintances. There are some adjacent dogs through my siblings, but none that I can call 'friend'. I haven't the slightest clue on how to make things interesting."
"Ohh, I see what's up. Listen, you don't gotta try to impress me to be friends, Dawkins. I'm down for video games, movies, even chilling on a couch with a mix. No offense, but those seem more your speed than bein' out and about. Truth is, I just wanted to see Camden so I could spend time with Brooklyn. She's been brushing me off since we moved here. She's my twin, y'know? Twins ain't supposed to fuss. And now she thinks I'm just out here for…oh, dang. I-I'm bein' a motor mouth."
Dawkins' ears dangle on the ground. "…I understand. It would be best to head home and forget this ever happened. Dolly can continue her 'tour' in my place."
"Wait, what? Nah, don't go, Dawkins!" Beaumont sits in front of Dawkins. "Sorry if I got too real, I'm going through it dealing with my sis. I want to hang with you, but it bums me out seeing that uncomfy face. If you're not having a good time, let's work it out."
"Ah…okay. I will stay if you want me to." Dawkins places a paw on his own shoulder. "Well, y-you are correct, I prefer tinkering and my tablet over skateboards and kick flips, or whatever it is you do on those things…"
"Alright, then how 'bout this? When we get back to your place, I'mma give you my socials so we can text later. We could talk more about Princess Positron! Or we could watch something together if you want. Whatever makes you feel comfortable, I wanna do that."
"Is that alright? To try and befriend somebody like me…? What I mean to say is…you're okay with how I am?"
"Yeah?" Beaumont furls a brow. "I get it. Back home, I didn't have many friends either. Maybe a couple of dogs at daycare when I was a puppy, but nothin' past that. It was me and Brooklyn against the world. Oh, and Neil. Uh, besides all that, you're you! I don't wanna change that. Friendship takes time, maybe you'll warm up to new things eventually. And even if you don't, that's cool."
Suddenly, Dawkins springs forward onto Beaumont, clamping him in a big hug. Beaumont grunts with surprise, looking down at the spotted fur attached to him. Dawkins squeezes as hard as he can, which isn't very much. Realizing what he's doing, Dawkins quickly lets go, squatting on his hind paws. His forepaws lay limp in front of his body, twitching with embarrassment.
"I'm so sorry, Beaumont! I-I come from a hug-heavy family, and-"
"You're good, Dawkins!" Beaumont gives a wiggly smile. "Just didn't expect it is all."
The pair sit in silence, interrupted occasionally being barking dogs and tweeting birds. Neither of them know what to say! What's the best way to break an awkward lull like this? For a moment, the quietude is almost comforting, until it isn't. Dawkins clears his throat.
Dawkins' jaw droops a bit. "Umm…perhaps we should catch up to Dolly and Brooklyn, yes?"
Beaumont nods without a word. Silence creeps up on the duo as they awkwardly walk side by side. Dawkins feels a bit jittery. What is Beaumont's true feelings on the sudden pounce? Did Dawkins mess things up again, and Beaumont's being nice about it? Beaumont walks a bit slower, lost in his mind. Would it really come down to being virtual friends to just make things work? Or did Dawkins need time to get used to his new acquaintance? Just as the duo reaches the skate park, they notice Dolly and Brooklyn in a crowd of dogs. Dawkins shakes his head as Dolly shrugs at the scene. A rather fancy Sausage Dog, a pampered Poodle, and an inverted colored Dalmatian stand before Brooklyn and Dolly.
Dante Dalmatian smirks, "That's a nice vest, Dawkins. Did you plan on wearing it to your OWN FUNERAL!?"
Notes: I ended up splitting this chapter in half. The end part has enough of its own conflict to warrant that. Anyway, yeah, Dawkins probably isn't the best Dalmatian for touring around Camden...
At least Beaumont is an understanding dog.