The pound was not a place for the faint of heart, or for any animal who found themselves less than fortunate enough to end up there to begin with. In there, your only saving grace was hoping you had a collar and a license they could attach an owner to, because if not…?

Well. It wasn’t called ‘the long walk’ for nothing.

Poor Nutsy.

For a certain group of dogs, all of whom had been left behind by their ‘caretakers’, their goal was to avoid suffering a similar fate, no matter how frequently they ended up behind those familiar bars.

There was Toughy, the laid-back terrier; Bull, the well-mannered English bulldog; Boris, the astute Russian Borzoi, and the oldest of the bunch; Dachsie, the wiry German Dachsund; Pedro, the mellow Chihuahua… and then you had the ‘femme fatale’ of the bunch – the one every guy knew if not by name, then by her looks: Peg, the slinky, soft-furred Pekingese with an enticingly coy charm who’d seen it all for as long as her four legs have kept her strutting.

She often led her fellow strays through town, whether to find a spot to rest their weary paws, or perhaps to Tony’s Restaurant downtown for a bite to eat. Fancy, yes, but worth every meatball. The pound had been left in the dust once they gave the dogcatcher the slip; a freedom which they’d gladly keep if they could help it.

With that in mind, today, on this cool, early morning, was a sleep-in day as they snoozed in their alley of choice… though they’d forgotten how noisy a sleeper Boris was. He was a sweet guy, sure, but boy, could he snore. Peg was the first to cave in and awaken, figuring she might as well get a headstart on her day since it was unlikely she was getting back to sleep at this point.

Honestly, these boys…

Still, she couldn’t be upset with any of them. They were a tight-knit group, and she wouldn’t have it any other way, snoring and all.

She yawned, gave her puffy, pale-cream fur a little shake and stretched the last of her sleep out with a few pleasant little hums.

Yep. This was the life.

First up: check on their ‘acquired’ snack supply for breakfast. What little they got kept their bellies full enough for the day ahead, and for whatever their natural canine charms could pull from a few easily-impressed humans. That always did the trick.

So consider her surprise – and indeed, suspicion – when she found that the little box they used to keep their snacks in order was… rustling? From within?

The sleep in Peg’s lidded-eyed gaze faded into wary suspicion as she eyed the twitching box. She really hoped it wasn’t a squirrel. Again. Nevertheless, she kept her guard up and carefully padded over, her sharp nose sniffing away to try and pick up a scent, familiar or otherwise.

She drew closer, closer… until finally, she gave the box a quick whap with a forepaw, jostling up whatever was inside enough to tumble out in a crumby heap, only to find… another stray. One she didn’t recognize offpaw, but there was something about them that cried stray.

Scared, anxious stray, to be precise.

Were it any other scenario, Peg would’ve started barking to alert the others, warding off this ‘intruder’ without a second thought. But with that feebly nervous glint in their eyes, the one that feared retribution… she just couldn’t.

Instead, she simply arched a brow, that signature playful smile tugging at the corner of her muzzle.

“Well, aren’t you somethin’, dearie.” she remarked in her tender, city-lilted rumble, befitting the showdog she once was. She crouched down onto her haunches slightly, eyeing them over with a contemplative, fond gaze. “You do realize you’re chowin’ down on our stash, don’tcha?”

At the shaken look of realization that washed over their features, Peg let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head. “Aw, don’t get your tail in a knot, small fry. Trust me, I get it – we all gotta eat. I’m just hopin’ you left enough for me ‘n my friends back there. They get cranky without their morning fuel, y’know?”

She nodded back to the others with a flick of one long, fluffy ear, still visibly content in their slumber.