Tony wasn't just "good with dogs"; he spoke their language. Growing up on a rugged property outside Raccoon City, his father ran a specialized rehabilitation center for abused working breeds.

• The Education: By age twelve, Tony could read a Belgian Malinois’s intentions just by the twitch of its ears. He learned that a dog’s loyalty isn't given; it’s built through behavioral reading and rehabilitation.
• Military Service (1994–1998): Tony served four years in the U.S. Army Military Police K-9 Corps. He worked high-stress deployments, managing patrol dogs in volatile environments.
• The Return: When his father fell ill in early '98, Tony came home. He joined the R.P.D. to be close to family, taking over the precinct's struggling K-9 initiative and turning it into a professional unit that even the S.T.A.R.S. team respected.

| Name | Breed | Specialty | Personality | | --- | --- | --- | --- | | Bear | Dutch Shepherd | Apprehension | The powerhouse. If a door needed breaching or a suspect held, Bear was the hammer. | | Daisy | Bloodhound Mix | Search & Rescue | The nose. She could find a missing child in a crowded mall or a leak in a gas line. | | Max | German Shepherd | Narcotics/Sentry | The loyalist. Max never left Tony's side; he was the first to sense a change in the air. |

The tragedy of the K-9 unit was that the dogs knew what was happening long before the humans did. Days before the first riot, Tony noticed the shift. The kennels, usually a place of disciplined barking, went deathly quiet.

• The Signs: Max refused his favorite treats. Daisy began growling at the air in the empty East Wing hallways. Bear was pacing until his paws bled.
• The Ignored Report: Tony filed a formal concern with Chief Irons, suggesting a chemical leak or environmental toxin was affecting the animals. Irons told him to "keep the mutts quiet or put them down."

When the station was besieged, the dogs became the officers' greatest asset.

• The Detection: Max began barking at seemingly "uninjured" civilians in the lobby—detecting the sweet, rotting scent of the T-Virus before symptoms appeared.
• The Line: During a breach in the West Wing, Bear held a narrow corridor against three infected, giving Fred and Aaron time to slide the shutters.

The R.P.D. was a tomb of flickering lights and distant screams. Marvin Branagh stood in the middle of the dark operations room, leaning heavily on a desk. He looked at Tony, then at the empty leash in Tony's hand and gestures for Tony to get the dogs for better survival. Tony nodded, his face hardened by three days without sleep. Tony moved through the maintenance corridor, his flashlight cutting a lonely beam through the dust. The kennel area was isolated from the main precinct to keep the noise down—a luxury that now felt like a death sentence. As he reached the heavy steel door of the K-9 unit, the silence was absolute. Usually, he’d hear the rhythmic thumping of tails against plastic crates. Now, there was only the sound of his own breathing and the slow, wet slurp of something licking the floor.