The Undesired Second Chance

Chapter 7: Let Sneaking Dogs Sneak

The other stray dogs had taken to calling him 'Boss', for some reason. This was despite the fact that, when compared to some of the other dogs (all of the other dogs, really), he was positively tiny. Long, yes—but also very, very short.

He cursed his stubby little legs.

And, though they did call him 'Boss', he found that he didn't really get much out of the title. Basically it meant he had to keep an eye on everyone and make sure their small makeshift pack of stray dogs and cats was kept relatively safe, sheltered, and fed. Which, obviously, was often easier said than done. All in all, the title just meant more work for him when all he wanted to do was snooze and quietly watch the world pass him by.

At the moment, however, he had found something interesting to chew on.

Metaphorically.

Not literally, although he did remember spotting a particularly good-looking stick in one of the lesser-used training fields that would serve nicely.

No, now was not the time to be dreaming of chew toys. He needed to focus. This was pack business, after all.

At the moment, the dachshund was spying on the newly-occupied house across the street. His attempt at infiltration that first night had gone belly-up faster than an attention-seeking poodle, but it had worked out well in the end. Clearly he was out of practice if the blond one—who had a peculiar scent that was somehow different from everyone else the short dog had sniffed—had been able to sneak up on him so easily.

Still, the-one-who-smelled-different seemed to be a nice enough guy.

Although, to be fair, ham could do much to sway his opinion of someone.

Hiding in the gutter on the roof of the building opposite the target's house, he peeked his nose over the edge to give a few test sniffs. No change. Deeming the coast clear, he lifted his head to peer over at the target. Or rather, at the building the target was in. In the past week, he had yet to see the blond man actually leave.

In fact, he had yet to even spot the blond man through one of the windows.

It was a bit worrisome.

"Psst, hey Boss," came a barking voice.

"What is it, Miho?" he asked, front half popping up from the gutter to look down at the window below him. Sure enough, a familiar fluffy brown dog was staring back at him. Miho, unlike himself, was quite a large dog: at least five times taller than he was, which, despite his own stubbiness, was not insignificant. Since she couldn't join him on the thin roof, she had had to settle with resting her head on the windowsill and watching from there. She looked quite bored.

"Why do I gotta do this stake-out with you?" Miho huffed an annoyed breath, grumbling, "I'd rather be out looking for that cat... er, you know, whatshername."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." The dachshund wiggled the rest of himself free of the gutter and agilely dropped down through the window. His entrance kicked up a good amount of dust which had both dogs sneezing.

Catching her breath again, Miho repeated her question. "So why am I here, Boss?"

"Because. That's why."

The significantly larger-and-fluffier dog snorted. "That's a stupid answer."

Popping his head out the window briefly to shoot a glance back at the target's house, the dachshund changed the subject. "So who's gone missing this time?"

Miho's white ears pulled back, clearly worried. "The old hissy tabby-cat. Had a bit missing from her right ear?"

"Wait, you mean Tora?" He had liked that cat; a bit crazy and with grand delusions of being a tiger, sure, but she was pretty good at keeping the other cats in line. "She's missing?"

"Since yesterday at the latest."

He frowned, not liking what that meant. "That's the fifth one to go, counting the three last month."

Somewhat reluctantly, Miho said, "Maybe more. Kuromaru, you know him—handsome, dark fur, had to get a sweet eyepatch recently? He's an Inuzuka too, so—"

"Yes," the dachshund was quick to interject. Ever since he had lost his human partner in the attack that left this district empty, the clan had been a touchy subject. "I know."

Thankfully Miho took the hint, dropping that topic and continuing on to her point. "He said that some of the other stray packs have been getting antsy. He thinks they might be missing members too, but not as many as us."

Realizing that he had begun to pace anxiously, he forced himself to sit down. "And what are your thoughts?"

"My thoughts?" She blinked, surprised that he'd ask for her opinion, before her expression grew suddenly grim. "I think something's up, and I don't like the smell of it."

With a grimace, the dachshund nodded. "I agree. Something—or someone, more like—is snatching us strays off the streets. Who knows why."

"Kidnappings? Really?"

"It fits, though again— not sure why anyone would kidnap strays."

Miho snarled as her mind flipped through the most likely reasons. "Nothing good, I'd bet."

Unfortunately, she was probably right. Then a foreboding thought occurred to him and, unable to sit still any longer, he began pacing again. After all, if this mystery kidnapper doesn't mind snatching animals, it's not much of a stretch to think they might raise the stakes. "Have you heard of any missing humans?"

Her ears flipped up. "You think—?"

"No news of that, then. Good." She probably wouldn't sound so surprised at the idea if she had heard of something like that happening already. He didn't stop pacing, though he did slow down slightly.

"Not that I know of," she concurred.

Another few turns around the room and he finally stopped, decision made. "Alright, Miho. You can go look into this."

Suddenly at full attention, the large dog sprung to her feet. "Seriously? Thanks, Boss! I'll track 'em down in no time! But... uhm, what about you? You're not coming?"

"No, I..." The dachshund's eyes drifted toward the house across the street, almost as if he couldn't help himself. "I still have to figure out these new humans."

Miho beamed him a positively mischievous doggy smile, teasing, "Hoh hoh, so you're that concerned for this blond guy?"

"What?!" he yipped, and if a dog could blush he probably would have been bright scarlet. "I— that's— NO. I'm clearly concerned about this guy. Not for."

"Sure you are." Miho sounded a mix between teasing and genuinely pleased.

He determinedly repeated, "Not for."

"Methinks you protest too much."

That earned her a still-embarrassed-sounding growl.

She ignored that, noticing instead the traitorous wag of his tail. Standing up—another smile aimed squarely in his direction—Miho shook off some of the dust that had settled on her fur before heading to the door. "Well, whatever. I'm off."

"Yes. Good. You do that."

"You have fun stalking the new guy."

"I'M NOT—" he started, but he caught himself. Lowering his voice, he tried again. "I'm not stalking anyone. It's reconnaissance."

Miho shrugged and shouldered the door open. "Whatever you say, Boss. Whatever you say."

The dachshund stared at the door after it swung shut, then turned back to the house across the street. To himself, he reaffirmed, "I'm not."

He also firmly told himself that he wasn't that worried that he hadn't seen any sign of the blond man for the past week. It was fine, the blond man was fine, and it wasn't like he cared either way.

Honest.