New York City. A place where anything can happen... and a place with a rhythm like no other. A rhythm that, once you get hooked to the beat, lets your imagination run wild with endless possibilities. One soul who knew the beat inside and out was a sly dog named Dodger, who exuded an air of streetwise confidence some folks wished they had.

He was out on his usual rounds, gathering some tasty treats for the rest of the gang back home, while their owner, Fagin, was off running his own beat, now feeling a significant weight lifted off his shoulders with Sykes no longer on his - or anyone's - back.

These events rang clear in the terrier's mind, especially a certain cool little cat who put his life on the line to save his own fur, and vice versa. Even though Oliver finally had a family to call his own with Jenny, that didn't stop Dodger and the others from checking in every now and then, being the unofficial 'vice president' of their 'uptown chapter'.

As he swaggered through the city, an all too familiar sound caught his ears: there was a fight brewing in the alley. Can you spell deja vu?

Morbidly curious, Dodger crept over to find a scruffy-looking stray up against two big, snarling stray dogs, obviously outmatched. He was half-tempted to give these boneheads the what for, but their unsuspecting target quickly retaliated with a few fierce snaps and defensive noises. Startled by this, the pair scampered off with their tails between their legs.

Dodger was floored - and pretty soon, so were they, as they collapsed once the pair were out of sight.

"Whoa, whoa, kid, you okay?" he called out, rushing towards them.

Instantly their head shot up, and they skittered against the brownstone with a growl - but Dodger was unfazed.

"Hey, easy now, I ain't gonna hurt 'ya." he assured them with a smile. "Gotta say, that was quite the show you put on there, I'm impressed - and I don't say that lightly. The name's Dodger; a friend... and judging by how you handled those two, someone who does not wanna be your foe."