[pshrynk]

Vivaldi ran down an alley in a blind panic. The smell on Slite! He's never smelled a dog that had that odor. The engineers on the Army Post back home all smelled that way. But not dogs. What do dogs have to do with TNT, wondered.

And now, a maniac, freelance spy dog the size of Vermont was almost certainly tracking him down! Vivaldi had been in his share of dog fights. Well, be honest, he'd run away from his share of dog fights. He was much more of a lover than a fighter. And dogs were much better at protecting their vulnerable bits than humans. Heck, fighting someone with Harv was just second nature. If there wasn't an unfair advantage to be had, Vivaldi just wasn't interested.

But when a small gray dog was cornered by a hug dog who definitely looked like he worked out, someone was going to get hurt. Usually the small gray dog. He had to get away.

Looking around, he spied a garbage pile and dove in. Anything to disguise his scent was welcome. The fact that it was garbage was just a bonus. He forced himself to get out of the pile and keep running. No time for simple pleasures when being pursued by someone a lot bigger and with all his teeth.

He was beginning to panic. Well, panic more. He didn't know this territory at all and had no safe holes just mapped out for purposes of diving into to avoid a dog fight. This just wasn't Panama City?

He rounded a corner and ran headlong into Bob and George.

"Yo! Dude! Where you going in such a hurry!" said Bob.

"Anywhere but right here!" cried Vivaldi, keeping up his world record pace in the Smallish Dog Avoiding Horrible Death by a Large Dog Event. He figured himself at least a silver, if not gold.

The chihuahuas scurried after him. "Slow... down... we... can't ... keep... up!" Bob was screaming.

Vivaldi made a sudden turn into yet another alley and came to a full stop. The chihuahuas plowed into his butt.

"You don't understand! Slite is going to kill me!"

"The Big Friend? Why? What did you do?" asked George, adoring fan.

"It's not what I did, it's what I know he did! The Taxi Boss' house was blown up and he showed up smelling of TNT! He's a Bad Dog!"

"Dude! That guy was inducted into the Chihuahua Cartel by Little Friend months ago! He can't be bad!"

"You didn't smell what I smelled. I'm lucky I got away as fast as I did. One bite on my neck and that's the end of a great literary career!"

"Oh, man! We gotta tell the Little Friend! Come with us!"

"What about getting away form Slite?"

"We're chihuahuas! Places we can get into a Bernese can't even pee in! Let's go!"

The three dogs ran off down the alley.