Those pup, a Portuguese water dog Merpup thought as his head popped out the water. He shook his head. They're having a party and it's way too loud. As the pup continued to ponder it, he continually watches the pups in their fanfare.

The lead was obvious: a pup so talented he makes even Chase shiver in his imagined boots—Rubble.

Moby didn't understand why the bulldog was the lead—he was a terrible singer, yet couldn't help but be entranced by the idea he likes music like the merpups he knows, thus giving him more credit than he deserves.

Moby adjusts his headphones, trying to drown out the sound of a dying seahorse.

There was a new face among them. One he hadn't heard of. An older dog nearing her fifties was up there, singing with such elegance and warmth in her voice. She was eagerly singing along on the stage with Rubble and a spotted Dalmatian named Marshall.

Out of all three voices, the older dog's voice was the best. Her voice was beautiful, like a choir of angels were singing alongside the terrible bulldog and somewhat mediocre Dalmatian. Her voice was quiet, allowing the two the main spotlight as she sung along.

Regardless of how quiet she sung, most eyes were on her.

She sounds familiar, Moby notes, getting closer. Is she some famous singer?

The dog in her fifties was a black Italian grayhound. Her eyes were a brilliant shade of potato brown, sparkling as she sings alongside the dogs before Moby. Her body moved as if she were hunted down like prey. A smile stained her face more beautiful than she already was.

A little plump, but otherwise perfect in every way. That's how Moby would describe her.

Her focus on her music was...inspirational to say the least. She was so focused on staying with the two pups and their band that she didn't focus on the crowd screaming her name.

"Querida! Querida!" Others shout: "RIDA! RIDA!" Either way, her fans were shouting with joy and love in their hearts as they listened to the music.

Her popularity made the PAW Patrol seem small in comparison. Regardless, the PAW Patrol was still the main focus of the concert, and certain people such as their mayor and her unfaithful chicken were there to cheer them on.

Moby recognized Coral in the crowd as well as a few other merpups he would rather stay away from.

Moby moved closer to the concert, wondering if he should even ruin their fanfare to begin with. He likes music but this music was really loud.

Moby considers his options, thinking the best to do right now would flee rather than interrupt. He turns to leave.

"Hey, you!" A voice breaks out. The stunning female's voice was brought to his ears.

He turned back around. "What?" His inherent rudeness didn't make the female dog flinch; she had suddenly ran off stage, approaching him. However, the tone in his voice startled everyone else who was booing him or making them, notably Coral, shake their heads.

The female ran right up to him, stopping only mere inches from him. A smile adorned her face; she wasn't bothered by the sight of him. "Do you wanna join our little concert?"

She indicated toward the stage. "We could always use another singer. You were just watching with curious eyes, so I'd thought I'd offer that for you."

Moby's jaw dropped. He pointed at himself with a paw. "You want me to join?"

He wanted to scoff, but wasn't allowed to due to a familiar cream-and-tan dog bounding toward him with blue-and-purple highlights in her ears.

"Moby!" Her nose presses against his as she squints at him. "You better not be here to cause trouble!"

Moby pulls back his head, unamused. "I was wondering what all this racket was about. I won't ruin your concert since it's on land."

Coral's eyes shifted. Her eyes furrowed as she gazed at Moby like he lost his front two paws. "You serious?"

She didn't believe him. Of course!

"Yes," he bit his lip as his eyes wandered from the smaller dog.

His eyes honed in on Rubble. The DJ's eyes were on him already. His tongue was freely let out and hanging around with disgusting drool sticking to the edge.

"Well, you can always join us," Querida informs, bouncing on her toes with a warm smile. "Merpup or land pup, I don't mind. I'll gladly sing in tempo!" She lets out a howl and her tail wags.

Rubble runs off stage. "Yeah! We always have time for an encore!" Rubble lets out a deep bark, butt wiggling to indicate his excitement. "Even if a villain joins us, its better than suffering in silence. What kind of music do you listen to?"

Rubble starts pulling out records. "We got disco, classical, rock and roll—if you're into that type of music, pop, jazz, country, you name it!" Rubble sits down with the records at his feet.

Querida laughs. "We got a whole ton of tunes." The musical dog informs, a huge smile on her face as she does a little spin. "We can sing anything you would like, Moby. What tune floats your underwater castle?" she inquires with a twinkle in her eyes.

Moby didn't know if he could match her enthusiasm, but her joy was making a smile begin to curl on his face. "Really?" he inquired with part of his upper face lifting.

Moby didn't know having such a party could sound so fun, yet this singer was making it seem like such. Moby didn't know if he wanted to be mad at the pups anymore. This dog in front of them was one of the most peppy adult dogs he's ever met.

How does one hold so much joy like that?

"Absolutely. If you're crazy enough to join us, that is. It's your choice," Querida offers.

The crowd's curiosity peaked, and Moby wondered what she meant.

Coral watches the scene unfold, face furrowing still. Her gaze was easily readable. She didn't believe what was going on in front of her.

"Are you sure you want him to join? He's not exactly a pup who likes loud music."

"Loud music? Music doesn't have to be loud to make a difference. It can be soft music. It doesn't necessarily need to go hard like a boss fight in order to impact a crowd."

Querida's smile never left her as she bounded back onstage, her leap causing her to fall flat on her belly. She didn't let that impact her, standing up and putting the mike close to her muzzle. She indicated with her tail to invite him up.

Moby was still unsure. He wasn't nearly as energetic or as extroverted as Querida. He wasn't even half as extroverted as Rocky—which is probably why Rocky is beloved and he's misunderstood.

He lowered his body, feeling his flight instincts begin to kick in.

"We don't have time for this, Moby. Get onstage!" Coral hisses at him, padding closer to him to grab his paw. Despite being about half his size, the cockapoo with blue highlights in her ears managed to drag him all the way on stage.

Moby panicked, moving his paws frantically backwards. He tried wrenching himself from Coral's grip to no avail. I don't think I'm ready for this!

"Hey, hey," Rubble barked, standing in front of Coral. His voice softens as he looks at Moby with a curiosity. "We shouldn't force him to do anything he doesn't want to. We should slow ease him into this. Let's start with a chorus our self. Then maybe he will join in."

Coral huffs with a pout. "Well he's always trying to force Puplantis to shut up." Anger was clear in her eyes.

Moby gulped. He knew Coral didn't like him and saw him as a nuisance, but he didn't realize she was this bitchy about it.

Rubble sighs, sauntering onstage without a word.

He looks at Querida with a nod. They were ready to begin. Querida closed her eyes as she began to sing a song.

Moby wonders what happened to letting him decide the song.

Querida points a paw at Chase, indicating to him with just her mouth movement of a song. Attentive, Chase nods and starts playing the drums in a simpler beat than earlier. His paws thump down on the pads below, guiding them to making the drumsticks move.

At first, the song was only a drum solo with Chase in the middle. Rubble padded beside Querida.

Marshall races to join them, tripping but managing to stand right as Rubble took a huge breath.

Winded, Marshall scrambling to his feet, inhaling air as quick as he could to add to Rubble's chorus.

"Call me crazy but what if we learn

To love our brother for nothing in return," Rubble and Marshall both sang. Marshall sounded like chalk on a chalk board. Rubble sounded fine. In fact, Moby thought he was better at singing soprano than singing the bass range.

"Oh how the rules would change."

Both pups took a breath, Marshall with his eyes closed. Rubble indicates to Moby, smiling warmly at him. "Come on," he mouths as the song takes pause for the next verse.

Moby gulps, taking half a step back.

I'm not sure I can do this.

Rubble notices his discomfort and mouths, "You can do this. I believe in you." Rubble's eyes held sincerity, hope, and a few other emotions Moby couldn't read.

Moby still wasn't sure. Did he want to sing? Was he even good? Wouldn't it be hypocritical to want to sing after trying to stop Puplantis from singing and being joyful?

Rubble hops off the stage while Querida, Marshall, and Tracker—he took Rubble's place in the meantime—continued the song.

"Reaching out to the ones who need help. Treating them as you first would treat yourself." Tracker sang, pausing momentarily.

"Hey," Rubble addresses him, eying him with worry. "Are you scared?"

Moby didn't respond. He looked down. I have a terrible singing voice. I am not confident.

"Now that would be insane," Marshall sings softly.

Rubble waddles closer. "It's okay if you are scared. We all have those things that make us fearful." Rubble pauses as the three onstage get louder.

"It may just be crazy enough. To work if we could only love," all three sang in sync before Tracker grabbed hold of his mic, singing louder. "What if we somehow change the world. It may just be crazy enough."

Rubble smiles patiently. "You're more than welcome to sing with us. It doesn't matter if Coral sees you as a nuisance or if you're scared. We don't judge here, and Querida and the PAW Patrol would love to have you as a guest singer."

Rubble holds out his paw, bottom teeth gripping his upper lip. He looks at Moby with a profound emotion. His eyes hopeful and inviting.

Rubble then bounded back onstage.

Moby pondered it over. Considering Querida and Rubble were nothing but nice to him, he could join them.

But why would they want me? It just doesn't add up. Is that something others do for free?

Moby tries to think of an answer. Nothing comes to him.

"Is it so strange to think that one day, we will truly see everyone the same? Oh could we be so kind?" Rubble sang as Tracker stepped back to his position of playing the triangle.

Marshall mimics his lyrics: "Could we be so kind?"

Is that why? You want to be...kind to me of all pups? Moby sighs. Fine. If this isn't what it's cracked out to be I'll go back to McSquidly...tight after I ruin their show.

Moby smiles. But I really hope it won't come to that. Rubble seems like a nice pup.

Moby's heart started racing. Well, I guess I can't get further embarrassed than I already am. They're...counting on me?

Moby makes a mad dash for the stage right as the next chorus begins.

Eyes. That's all he saw. Querida handed him her mic. Moby gulped, his fear of crowds surging.

Oh no!

The song's beats played in the background.

Moby's eyes widened, unable to pinpoint a safe spot to sing at. There's so many people, dogs, and cats. I don't think I can do this!

A page was thrust in front of him and a soft voice whispers, "Here. You start at this verse. It starts with, 'To sing along when life's playing their tune.' Hope that helps! You've got this!" The dog in front of him gave him a thumbs up and a warm smile.

Moby's fur was raised slightly. Black muzzle fur pressed right into his ear—Querida was too close.

"Uh, thanks." He moves away from her, suspicious.

The singer beams at him, either unaware of his discomfort or just happy he was trying to have fun. Either way, Moby is keeping his oceanic eyes on this dog. There was definitely something more to her than meets the eye.

Tan-and-white peeked over his shoulder. Do you want me to—

"You stop after the word mind." Rubble immediately backs away, allowing Moby to start the song back up while the crowd waits; Moby could tell they were getting rather impatient.

Moby cleared his voice. He presses his mouth near the mic; it makes a screeching sound. Several people and animals put their hands, or paws, over their ears.

Moby's fluffy-and-floppy ears press against his head. He felt heat rise up in his muzzle, gulping.

He took a breath, still unsure about this. Then he looks at Rubble. Rubble grins at him, eyes closed.

"You've got this!"

A sudden odd surge of confidence strikes Moby, and he starts to sing. It helped that he finally saw the song lyrics.

"To sing along when life's playing their tune. And cry with them when their hearts broken in two; and have I lost my mind?"

Querida, Rubble, and Marshall echo Moby. "And have I lost my mind?"

The soft tone of the song contrasted intensely with the loud-and-annoying operatic chorus that Coral and the other merpups partook in. It didn't hurt his ears.

The last song hurt his ears. He has sensitive hearing.

Moby opened his jaw, feeling elated as he was nudged to continue by Rubble. "Oh, have I gone mad, Believing that love still has a chance."

Moby didn't have enough breath to finish the full chorus because the word chance was sung longer than the rest, and Moby wasn't familiar with this oddly soothing song.

What kind of song is this? He wonders. Rubble, Querida, Marshall, and even Coral sung the background chorus which made the song sound fantastical and mysterious.

Chase's drums were in the spotlight once more and Moby noticed their gray-and-white friend, Rocky, had started playing the guitar.

There were no words on the screen in front of Moby. They were just waiting for Chase and Rocky's solo to reach a point where it entered the next chorus of the song.

Chase smiled, bobbing his head forward while he played. Rocky, meanwhile, squinted at the musical score in front of him, intensely focused and face furrowing.

Finally, words appeared on the screen. "Oh, It may just be crazy enough," Moby and Querida sang. "To work if we could only love." Once more the longer part of the song Moby messed up. "What if we somehow change the world? It may just be crazy enough. It may just be crazy enough. It may just be crazy enough, oh."

Moby finally got the long part of the song correct, managing to stay in tune somehow.

He was about to bow and take off, but Querida stopped him right as he lurched forward. The song wasn't over.

Chase took over, playing the drums with the same overconfident smirk on his face as he vibed along with the tune. Rocky joined in the background, playing softly to allow Chase the main spotlight.

The song ended when both of them played at the same time.

Silence flooded the audience. It was quiet for a good five seconds. Moby adored those five seconds.

Suddenly, Claps and cheers echoed throughout the stage, louder in Moby's ear than before.

Ack! Moby stumbled backward, unable to handle the loudness of the crowd's praise.

"QUERIDA!! QUERIDA!! QUERIDA!!"

Moby landed on his tail, biting his tongue as Rubble helped him up.

"Wow! You have an okay singing voice, Moby," Coral remarked, sounding disgruntled, yet slightly impressed.

Liberty and Everest hopped up from the crowd. "Nice pipes, Moby!" Liberty complimented. Everest nods, tail wagging. "Yeah! If you weren't in opposition of the PAW Patrol, you could join our band!"

Chase pads up to him, stiff. "Good work, Moby. I hope you consider putting the life of crime aside for a more well rounded career such as music. You have a natural talent for it."

Moby flinched. Is that a compliment?

Rocky bounded up to him. "You were decent today!" he barks, tail wagging. "I think we can make good friends!"

Rocky's voice was excruciatingly loud.

Moby presses a paw against his ear and angles it away from Rocky. "Uh, yeah, sure. Later, though."

"Yeah! We still have a few more songs to present. You're always welcome to join us."

Moby holds up a paw. "I think I'm good." My voice is fried from singing too high.

He turns, bunching his muscles to exit the stage with Liberty and Everest. "Wait!" Moby stopped, turning around only for his nose to swipe against Rubble's muzzle.

His eyes widen, and he lets out a small pathetic yelp.

"Sorry, sorry," Rubble quickly states, waving a paw in the air. "I was just wondering if you would like to hang out sometime in the future?"

Moby didn't know what to say. Genuinely. He's an anti-social dog. People and dogs always gave him odd stares whenever he doesn't respond to them.

They acted like silence ensured someone's hate to them, when in reality most of the time Moby just didn't have a proper response or knew a way to appease them.

Pups such as Coral and Rubble were sociable pups—The complete opposite of Moby.

Society has this way of assuming that people who don't talk or who don't succumb to society's wishes are trying to do something.

It hurts. Moby ran away from Puplantis because of how overly sociable they were. While they were nice, Moby didn't trust easy.

Even now, he wasn't sure if he could completely trust Rubble at the moment. However, his friendly attitude and inviting nature gave Moby a sense of direction. Maybe he could trust Rubble, but it would take time and a lot more than just encouragement and friendliness to ensure their friendship would last.

This brought Moby to the question: Should he agree?

There was bound to be pros and cons of hanging out with such a pup as Rubble. Moby was unsure about whether he could handle the more enthusiastic and extroverted pup. On the other paw, Rubble was understanding and kind; something the world around Moby lacked.

Moby wants to get closer to Rubble, but his careful nature made him anxious about it.

What if Rubble didn't want to be friends with him after so long? What if he abandoned him like everyone does eventually? What if—

Rubble's ears dropped, eyes droopy. "Is that a no?" The sound of genuine heartbreak hit Moby's ears.

Was he—was he sincere?

Well, Rubble isn't the worst pup to hang out with. He's at least more considerate than Coral.

Moby nods. "Sure, I guess."

Despite his unsure answer, Rubble bounced lightly on his paws; he happily closed his eyes and hugged Moby. Surprised, Moby hugged back, still unsure the outcome.

Rubble parts and screams, "WOOHOO!!!" He stage dives and jumps straight into the arms of crowd. He crowd surfs, leaving Moby alone.

Wait...how am I supposed to know when to come?

A soft sigh enters his fluffy ears and he looks up, terrified at the size of Ryder now that he was on four paws and not on fins.

Ryder bends down. Moby isn't sure what to do, so he freezes.

"It's okay, Moby. I'm just going to go ahead and give you the Lookout number, so I can call you for that playdate with Rubble."

Playdate?! Moby wasn't sure about that. Ryder chuckles at his sudden facial expression.

Moby frowns. "You forgive me?" he wonders out loud.

"Of course!" Ryder chirps, twisting a screwdriver against Moby's neck. Moby didn't like how close Ryder was. His breath was making him uncomfortable. Ryder backs away, beaming at his work. "You're a good pup, I just know it!"

Ryder leaves, allowing for Moby to finally jump off the stage.

Phew, he thought, racing away from the stage. He heard some pup say, "Good. That pup was awful," with a, "Your voice breaks mirrors, Sweetie," as a response.

"Thanks for coming!" Querida calls to him.

"Shut up, Claw! Why'd the Princess invite your ugly ass?!" Moby didn't bother listen after that.

He continued running, although there was a faint smile on his face as he jumped into the water and a familiar purple merpup with a yellow fishtail appeared in front of him, paws folded.

The merpup barks in frustration, seemingly chiding Moby. A yellow squid nearby barbles a somewhat apology at Moby before plopping on his head.

Moby sighs in frustration. "I wasn't causing any troub—" The merpup presses her nose against his. "le. Ugh."

He hated being a merpup. The feeling of losing those back two legs bothered him intensely.

He then smiles. At least I'll be able to visit Rubble now. But it is nice to be home. Even if home is annoying and misunderstands me sometimes.

Moby then swims into the depths of the ocean with the merpup.