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Description
In a vast city, one late evening, two opposite animals have come across each other. Though quite different, their hearts were the same size. Albeit, it took one a lot longer to figure out that being alone is indeed a lonelier existence and that having someone by your side helps ease the harshness in a hard world. Both of them had a grieving past and they could support each other, but there was also one big thing that the peculiar pair could completely relate too.

BUURRRPPPP!

Food was good.

HICCUP! HICCUP!

Food was VERY good.

In the alleyway of the Italian bistro, leaning their backs on hollow bins that were once filled to the rim with meaty, pasta remnants, a certain Collie and Shepherd cross and certain oddly colored Norway rat, relaxed after devouring all the edible leftovers from the said restaurant. The disposal service would definitely be skipping this route this week. It was amazing these two didn’t explode. But getting full, never stops gluttons from enjoy their meals.

Both the canine and rodent slowly rubbed their big, budging bellies, contently smiling non-stop, especially Sierra.

“Now that’s… HIC! …good eatin’!” The street dog slid down a bit to get more comfortable. “I can’t remember the last time I had a huge meal like this… or a huge gut like this,” she remarked to the sated rat next to her who was mirroring Sierra’s lounging position.

The rodent smiled and patted her bloated, yellow belly. “Yeppy! I eat like this… HIC!... All the… HIC! time! Now you can, too, since we awe sistews and… HIC!... sistew shawe all the time!”

The contented canine belched and winked at Medina. “I’m kinda glad I didn’t eat ya when I had the chance.”

Medina smiled. She was young, and may not understand her new companion says, but now she knew the dog was never going to make a meal of her. The rat pondered briefly. “Doggy?”

“Ah, those were some good’a spicy meat’balls! Wha-HIC?!” Sierra snapped out of her food stupor and looked down at the questioning rodent. “’Sup, toots?”

“Umm… were you weally gonna… HIC! …eat Scuzzy?”

With wide eyes, the dog hastily shook her head. “What?! HIC-UCK! No way, sister! I was only… HIC! …playin’ to snack on him to get rid of the scuzzball!” she stuck out her tongue. “Sirius only knows what was growin’ in the… HIC! …fur of that, rotten, ramblin’, raccoon!” Sierra blinked when realized what she just said and half-smirked at the ‘R’ non-dialect rodent. “Heh, HIC! toots, I bet’cha can’t say those three words, five times fast.”

“Shawl I… HIC! …can!” Medina took a deep breath with her furry, green cheeks puffed with air for a few seconds, then exhaled… “Those thwee woyds-those thwee woyds-those thwee woyds-those thwee woyds-those thwee woyds! How was… HIC! …that? HIC!

The canine’s deadpanned expression instantly flipped to grinning and laughing, throwing her forelimbs in the air. “HIC! That… was… PERFECT!”

The young rat overly clapped her paws merrily. “Yay… HIC! …ME!”

Clearly all the eating these two did had reached their minds besides their potbellies. But sometimes, a little silliness can do wonders with combating the stress of the streets.

Eventually, the friends’ folly quieted down and Sierra’s jesting smirk softened to a smile. “HIC! But really, toots, I was happy to help a gal-pal out. So I’m really glad and… relieved to have met ya. Thanks, Medina.”

The young rat’s opened smile was undoubtedly adorable. This was the only time that the dog said her true name with attachment behind it. If the chunky rodent wasn’t so oversized right now, she would be doing her dance of joy… so she counteroffered another happy clap, instead.

“I’m glad we awe gal pals, too! See-ale—HIC!”

Quickly, Medina covered her mouth. Not because of her hiccup, Sierra didn’t care since she was doing as many of them as her rodent counterpart. Medina had just remembered her new ‘gal pal’ didn’t want her to say her name, being hard for Medina to pronounce it.

With determination. The little glutton tried riding herself up like an upside down turtle. After a minute of Sierra enjoying the show, she rolled her eyes and helped the young rat to her paws.

“All be… HIC! …wight back!”

“HIC! Lem’me… HIC! …guess… a ‘wainstowm’?” chuckled the satisfied street dog.

“Yep-HIC-py! Wait wight heal!”

Sierra watched the double over-fed rat scurry (and roll for better movement). The dog glanced and felt the sheer weight of her huge stomach and shrugged with a snicker. ‘Like I would… or could go, anywhere, right now. HIC!”

In a few minutes, the dog burped while she saw the rat waddling (and yes, rolling) back. Sierra squinted her gold eyes at the object that was in Medina’s little muzzle.

“What’ca got there, toots? HIC!”

Medina held up the item in front of Sierra: it was a stale, hard piece of candy that was shaped and shaded as a cigar.

“This is fuw you ‘cause you ask me not to say yaw name, so I wanna give you this ‘cause it was the thing that gave me the wainstowm! I kept it under a stowe matt for a wainy day, but I’m glad it hasn’t been waining, so now you can have it!”

Sierra blinked a dozen times in a mere second. She wasn’t sure what was more surprising: The little indulger loose her hiccups so fast… Medina actually saved candy ‘for a rainy day’... She may had actually understood a popular saying for boring… But now, the rat wanted to give her… a present? The loss of Sierra’s own hiccups proved the answer was the latter.

The taken back canine slowly took the offering and examined it as the rat rubbed her paws, anxious for her newly discovered comrade’s reaction.

“Do you like it? Do you like it? Huh?! Huh?! Do ya?!” squeaked Medina, excitedly.

Sierra felt the candied cigar again and looked back at her newfound friend. “Yeah, I… like it. Thanks, toots, But, this candy is so stale it feels like a rock.” She smiled as she didn’t want to disappoint the young rat. “I’d apprentice the gesture, pup, but I’m pretty sure I’d break a fang if I tried to eat it.”

Again, to the dog’s surprise, the rodent wasn’t offended at all.

“No-no, silly Doggy! It’s not fuw eating and chewing! It’s fuw you to keep in yaw mouth!”

Sierra’s pupils darted to the candy cigar then to the smiling rodent. “Okay, toots, for the first time, ya got ME stumped… Why do ya want me to have this indigestible toffee pokin’ out’da my snapper all the time?”

Medina admiringly gazed up at the inquiring canine. “’Cause you awe: The Boss!”

Sierra viewed quietly as Medina wobbled closer. “You awe smawt, and bwave, like those tiny people I see inside the magic moving boxes in stowe windows and--!”

“You mean televisions, Fatty Ratty,”

Puzzled, Medina wiggled her silver whiskers. “Shouldn’t they be called tiny-vision?”

The street dog deadpanned while blinking once. She re-remembered she wanted to prevent face-pawing inducing headaches. “Just… continue, sister.”

The cheery rat giggled. “Wight! Since you gave me a fun name, I wanna give you one, so I want you to have the cigar all the time to show everyone you awe just awen’t my Boss.” She stretched out her stubby forelimbs over her head for emphasis. “You awe THE Boss!”

Sierra gazed down at the young rat, whose beady silver eyes had now somehow grew wide as saucers from admiration. The street dog never had anyone that looked up to her. It felt different to feel appreciated, and… she liked it.

The dog patted the ground next to her and the rat waddled back to her spot and reclined as she did shortly before.

“Thanks a ton, Medina,” she said as she rotated the false cigar between her nails again. “And I was wrong about liking it.”

“Weally?” said the young rat with a sad pout.

But before Medina could droop her ears, Sierra took out a dinner roll that she had hidden behind herself and gave it to her friend.

“I REALLY like it,” Sierra said with a wink.

Medina smiled and readily accepted the slightly dented roll. Despite eating for the past hour, she had the munchies, but she paused right before she took a nibble.

“What’s wrong, sister?” Sierra asked with a deep chuckle. “Oh, don’t tell me ya won’t eat it ‘cause my newfound girth sort of squished it a bit? For pizza’s sake, I’ve just seen ya eat stuff way more crushed than that!”

“But I thought I wasn’t supposed to eat any cwumbs?” Medina honesty responded. “That’s why I avoided all the bweads when we munched on all the foodies ‘cause you said not to eat a--”

“Uh, Fatty Ratty?”

“Yes, Boss?”

“Just eat the bread stick, already.”

Medina saluted. “Yawl The Boss!”

As ordered, the rodent happily nibbled on the roll, and Sierra chuckled at the youthful animal’s eagerness. The Collie/Shepherd cross patted her well-fed middle, relishing to having it fully filled for once in her hard life. And thanks to an ‘olive’ furred rat, her life would become much more fulfilling than it ever had been. And truth be told, it would be the same for Medina the Norway Rat as well.
The canine looked at the candy cigar, still in her paw. She put it in the side of her white muzzle and rested her forelimbs behind her head, leaning further on the vacant trash bin.

“The Boss...” She mused while twirling the cigar in her savvy smirking mouth. “Heh, I’m ‘The Boss’.”

And for some other unknown reason for her, ‘The Boss’ suited Sierra the Street Dog quite well.

And it always would.

Description
In a vast city, one late evening, two opposite animals have come across each other. Though quite different, their hearts were the same size. Albeit, it took one a lot longer to figure out that being alone is indeed a lonelier existence and that having someone by your side helps ease the harshness in a hard world. Both of them had a grieving past and they could support each other, but there was also one big thing that the peculiar pair could completely relate too.

BUURRRPPPP!

Food was good.

HICCUP! HICCUP!

Food was VERY good.

In the alleyway of the Italian bistro, leaning their backs on hollow bins that were once filled to the rim with meaty, pasta remnants, a certain Collie and Shepherd cross and certain oddly colored Norway rat, relaxed after devouring all the edible leftovers from the said restaurant. The disposal service would definitely be skipping this route this week. It was amazing these two didn’t explode. But getting full, never stops gluttons from enjoy their meals.

Both the canine and rodent slowly rubbed their big, budging bellies, contently smiling non-stop, especially Sierra.

“Now that’s… HIC! …good eatin’!” The street dog slid down a bit to get more comfortable. “I can’t remember the last time I had a huge meal like this… or a huge gut like this,” she remarked to the sated rat next to her who was mirroring Sierra’s lounging position.

The rodent smiled and patted her bloated, yellow belly. “Yeppy! I eat like this… HIC!... All the… HIC! time! Now you can, too, since we awe sistews and… HIC!... sistew shawe all the time!”

The contented canine belched and winked at Medina. “I’m kinda glad I didn’t eat ya when I had the chance.”

Medina smiled. She was young, and may not understand her new companion says, but now she knew the dog was never going to make a meal of her. The rat pondered briefly. “Doggy?”

“Ah, those were some good’a spicy meat’balls! Wha-HIC?!” Sierra snapped out of her food stupor and looked down at the questioning rodent. “’Sup, toots?”

“Umm… were you weally gonna… HIC! …eat Scuzzy?”

With wide eyes, the dog hastily shook her head. “What?! HIC-UCK! No way, sister! I was only… HIC! …playin’ to snack on him to get rid of the scuzzball!” she stuck out her tongue. “Sirius only knows what was growin’ in the… HIC! …fur of that, rotten, ramblin’, raccoon!” Sierra blinked when realized what she just said and half-smirked at the ‘R’ non-dialect rodent. “Heh, HIC! toots, I bet’cha can’t say those three words, five times fast.”

“Shawl I… HIC! …can!” Medina took a deep breath with her furry, green cheeks puffed with air for a few seconds, then exhaled… “Those thwee woyds-those thwee woyds-those thwee woyds-those thwee woyds-those thwee woyds! How was… HIC! …that? HIC!

The canine’s deadpanned expression instantly flipped to grinning and laughing, throwing her forelimbs in the air. “HIC! That… was… PERFECT!”

The young rat overly clapped her paws merrily. “Yay… HIC! …ME!”

Clearly all the eating these two did had reached their minds besides their potbellies. But sometimes, a little silliness can do wonders with combating the stress of the streets.

Eventually, the friends’ folly quieted down and Sierra’s jesting smirk softened to a smile. “HIC! But really, toots, I was happy to help a gal-pal out. So I’m really glad and… relieved to have met ya. Thanks, Medina.”

The young rat’s opened smile was undoubtedly adorable. This was the only time that the dog said her true name with attachment behind it. If the chunky rodent wasn’t so oversized right now, she would be doing her dance of joy… so she counteroffered another happy clap, instead.

“I’m glad we awe gal pals, too! See-ale—HIC!”

Quickly, Medina covered her mouth. Not because of her hiccup, Sierra didn’t care since she was doing as many of them as her rodent counterpart. Medina had just remembered her new ‘gal pal’ didn’t want her to say her name, being hard for Medina to pronounce it.

With determination. The little glutton tried riding herself up like an upside down turtle. After a minute of Sierra enjoying the show, she rolled her eyes and helped the young rat to her paws.

“All be… HIC! …wight back!”

“HIC! Lem’me… HIC! …guess… a ‘wainstowm’?” chuckled the satisfied street dog.

“Yep-HIC-py! Wait wight heal!”

Sierra watched the double over-fed rat scurry (and roll for better movement). The dog glanced and felt the sheer weight of her huge stomach and shrugged with a snicker. ‘Like I would… or could go, anywhere, right now. HIC!”

In a few minutes, the dog burped while she saw the rat waddling (and yes, rolling) back. Sierra squinted her gold eyes at the object that was in Medina’s little muzzle.

“What’ca got there, toots? HIC!”

Medina held up the item in front of Sierra: it was a stale, hard piece of candy that was shaped and shaded as a cigar.

“This is fuw you ‘cause you ask me not to say yaw name, so I wanna give you this ‘cause it was the thing that gave me the wainstowm! I kept it under a stowe matt for a wainy day, but I’m glad it hasn’t been waining, so now you can have it!”

Sierra blinked a dozen times in a mere second. She wasn’t sure what was more surprising: The little indulger loose her hiccups so fast… Medina actually saved candy ‘for a rainy day’... She may had actually understood a popular saying for boring… But now, the rat wanted to give her… a present? The loss of Sierra’s own hiccups proved the answer was the latter.

The taken back canine slowly took the offering and examined it as the rat rubbed her paws, anxious for her newly discovered comrade’s reaction.

“Do you like it? Do you like it? Huh?! Huh?! Do ya?!” squeaked Medina, excitedly.

Sierra felt the candied cigar again and looked back at her newfound friend. “Yeah, I… like it. Thanks, toots, But, this candy is so stale it feels like a rock.” She smiled as she didn’t want to disappoint the young rat. “I’d apprentice the gesture, pup, but I’m pretty sure I’d break a fang if I tried to eat it.”

Again, to the dog’s surprise, the rodent wasn’t offended at all.

“No-no, silly Doggy! It’s not fuw eating and chewing! It’s fuw you to keep in yaw mouth!”

Sierra’s pupils darted to the candy cigar then to the smiling rodent. “Okay, toots, for the first time, ya got ME stumped… Why do ya want me to have this indigestible toffee pokin’ out’da my snapper all the time?”

Medina admiringly gazed up at the inquiring canine. “’Cause you awe: The Boss!”

Sierra viewed quietly as Medina wobbled closer. “You awe smawt, and bwave, like those tiny people I see inside the magic moving boxes in stowe windows and--!”

“You mean televisions, Fatty Ratty,”

Puzzled, Medina wiggled her silver whiskers. “Shouldn’t they be called tiny-vision?”

The street dog deadpanned while blinking once. She re-remembered she wanted to prevent face-pawing inducing headaches. “Just… continue, sister.”

The cheery rat giggled. “Wight! Since you gave me a fun name, I wanna give you one, so I want you to have the cigar all the time to show everyone you awe just awen’t my Boss.” She stretched out her stubby forelimbs over her head for emphasis. “You awe THE Boss!”

Sierra gazed down at the young rat, whose beady silver eyes had now somehow grew wide as saucers from admiration. The street dog never had anyone that looked up to her. It felt different to feel appreciated, and… she liked it.

The dog patted the ground next to her and the rat waddled back to her spot and reclined as she did shortly before.

“Thanks a ton, Medina,” she said as she rotated the false cigar between her nails again. “And I was wrong about liking it.”

“Weally?” said the young rat with a sad pout.

But before Medina could droop her ears, Sierra took out a dinner roll that she had hidden behind herself and gave it to her friend.

“I REALLY like it,” Sierra said with a wink.

Medina smiled and readily accepted the slightly dented roll. Despite eating for the past hour, she had the munchies, but she paused right before she took a nibble.

“What’s wrong, sister?” Sierra asked with a deep chuckle. “Oh, don’t tell me ya won’t eat it ‘cause my newfound girth sort of squished it a bit? For pizza’s sake, I’ve just seen ya eat stuff way more crushed than that!”

“But I thought I wasn’t supposed to eat any cwumbs?” Medina honesty responded. “That’s why I avoided all the bweads when we munched on all the foodies ‘cause you said not to eat a--”

“Uh, Fatty Ratty?”

“Yes, Boss?”

“Just eat the bread stick, already.”

Medina saluted. “Yawl The Boss!”

As ordered, the rodent happily nibbled on the roll, and Sierra chuckled at the youthful animal’s eagerness. The Collie/Shepherd cross patted her well-fed middle, relishing to having it fully filled for once in her hard life. And thanks to an ‘olive’ furred rat, her life would become much more fulfilling than it ever had been. And truth be told, it would be the same for Medina the Norway Rat as well.
The canine looked at the candy cigar, still in her paw. She put it in the side of her white muzzle and rested her forelimbs behind her head, leaning further on the vacant trash bin.

“The Boss...” She mused while twirling the cigar in her savvy smirking mouth. “Heh, I’m ‘The Boss’.”

And for some other unknown reason for her, ‘The Boss’ suited Sierra the Street Dog quite well.

And it always would.