Light pink twilight colors the horizon overlooking a small New England town the morning following Independence Day, 1912. Three dogs merrily trot down city streets and sidewalks on a journey through town, two similar looking gray Schnauzer type mongrels and a smaller, cream colored Pomeranian mutt trails behind; her shorter legs restricting the young female to a slower pace than the two males she’s trailing. The two mutts she’s with, Tramp and Scamp are leading the trio to their home on Snob Hill, alas, finally after a lot of convincing and nudging, Scamp has finally decided to do right and return home where he belongs. Angel, having been dumped five times previously by different owners, can only hope that this family will find it in their heart to take her in. Now madly in love with the smaller gray male, Scamp, whom she’d just met only two days prior. 
	Panting with glee as she scurries along, Angel’s little heart wells with emotion watching the legendary Tramp and his son, Scamp, now happily reunited and bonding, something she’d desperately tried to encourage the latter to stick with mere hours ago over life on the street. The trio trots along down dusty sidewalks, ducking through alleyways, occasionally yipping and laughing merrily with not a care in the world, surefooted and content. Finally, they arrive at a busy intersection with Angel following a few paces behind. Tramp and Scamp glance both ways and seeing no motor or horse drawn carriages coming, dart across the street without hesitation. “Slow down you guys!” Angel laughs, panting heavily as she skids to a stop and looks side to side. Nothing to the right, nothing to the left, and with a small leap off the curb she’s now shuffling across the cobblestone street, they must be close to Scamp’s house as these streets are no longer dusty, compact dirt.
	Due to the ringing of joy in her ears, Angel fails to notice right away the thud of footsteps behind her until the last second, and a net falls over her head in the blink of an eye, rudely scoops her small figure right up with the flick of two trained wrists that have done this kind of thing far too many times in the past. With a snicker and cruel laugh, the dogcatcher peers at her through his upturned net and examines her closely, “Gotcha at last! I’ve been after you for quite some time now, you little shit.” Terrified and disoriented, Angel panics and squirms around in the net trying to get free, but it’s no use, “Help me!” she cries. Tramp and Scamp have stopped and turned around, they’re stunned at the sight they’re seeing. “Angel!” The smaller mutt hollered, attempting to run in her direction only to be stopped by his father, the older dog knowing that there’s nothing they can do presently to free Angel without getting both of them caught as well. The dogcatcher, wasting no time hurries in the direction of his truck parked a few yards down the street. Meanwhile, Angel chews and claws at the net trying to tear it apart, but it’s no use, the thick webbing is too durable and was designed with larger, stronger dogs in mind than herself. 
	The dogcatcher hurries around the back of his truck and with a flick of the wrist, unlocks the rear door and hurls the small dog carelessly against the backboard furthest from the entrance. Scrambling to her feet, Angel makes a dash for escape, but the door slams shut before she’s even halfway there. The man peers in at her, his beady little eyes focused, and large nose slightly pressed through the wire. “You know, I’ve had you on my radar for quite some time, especially after how many times you’ve bit me on the ass trying to subdue your little friends. So, I’ve got a special place for you, princess!” He jeered, and turned away to jump into the cab of the truck. “Angel, we’re coming!” a familiar voice rings, to which, she hurries forward to peer out the wire. 
	Tramp and Scamp slide around the corner and the latter jumps up pressing his paws against the door and the two briefly nuzzle each other through the wire. “Don’t worry sweetheart, we’re gonna get ya out!” Tramp says, as he too jumps up trying to reach the latch that’s obviously out of Scamp’s reach. “I’m so glad to see you guys! Buster and his gang would’ve just left me had this happened with them…” Angel started to explain, but the sounds of the vehicle’s engine puttering to life cut her short. Tramp, nudged and bumped the latch, trying to get it to open but this latch was far more advanced than the one he’d dealt with numerous times on the old dogcatcher wagon that was horse drawn. The truck started rolling forward, and the two male mutts had no choice but to let it. Staying in pursuit, they followed the vehicle to the intersection before it turned down the road they’d just ran up from, that led back to the dingier part of town once one crossed the tracks heading south. Unfortunately, the dogcatcher’s vehicle was picking up speed and the dogs started losing distance on it. 
	Angel watched as their figures grew smaller and smaller, her ears folded back behind her head and sitting heavily, the feeling of joy she had been experiencing moments prior quickly fading and heart sinking. With a long sigh, Angel returned to the center of the enclosure and laid down, facing rearward and watching the world tunnel and shake behind the vehicle as it motored along, a small cloud of dust kicking up from the tires. A dread of reality fell over her, she knew where they were going, back to the pound that her and Tramp had recently freed Scamp from. In all her time on the streets as a stray, Angel had not once been caught, not even close, and it figures that the one time she let her guard down that it would happen. 
	The vehicle bumped along, the roads steadily began to get rougher and more uneven the further it traveled. There was a familiar clatter of a vehicle traversing a railroad crossing and she knew they were on ‘that side’ of the tracks, as all dogs referred to it due to the vicinity of the pound kept away from the more proper and civilized areas of town. The buildings around here were much dingier and unkept, and a lot of decrepit houses and warehouses served as sanctuaries for homeless human hobos and stray dogs alike. The pickings were slim for a dog on an empty stomach, the trash cans rarely yielded any exciting spoils unlike the bins found in the richer neighborhoods such as Snob Hill. Even if they did, the contents were usually picked clean by scavenging dogs or people within minutes after dumping. 
	Angel’s mind was jarred back to reality as she felt the vehicle slowing down and coming to a stop. She stood and walked up to look out the rear best she could. The loud ‘screech’ of rusty gate hinges straining could be heard followed by the creak of a wooden gate being slowly opened. Seconds later, the truck moved again slowly, and Angel briefly caught a glimpse of the decrepit old overhang above the gate that said “Dog Pound” written in faded red paint. The terrible destination was here, and Angel slunk back into the shadows of the truck against the backboard as it came to a halt with a slight squeal of the brakes. She held her body low, tail tucked between her legs and ears back, trying to appear as submissive and non-threatening as possible, maybe the man would have a change of heart is all she could hope for. Angel hardly noticed that her body began to tremble and shake with fear, the horrible aromas of the place filling her nostrils.