The Mean Streets of Shadow Hills

Bailey is a tough street dog who was tired of the stray life. Through the animal grapevine, he found Koni and Nick; teachers, whose motto is: no dog left behind. Bailey became one of the regular crew and fit in with the many other happy residents of chez Dalton-Pawle. One day, poor Bailey was attacked by a pit-bull. He survived with no long-term damage. But, he has a story to tell. Here in his own words is the story of his salvation and redemption.

The Mean Streets of Shadow Hills,

by Bailey Dalton-Paw

As told to Penelope Artenian

And Written down by Rachel Artenian

I’ll admit it, I’m cute. Which really comes in handy when you’re out in the big wide world lookin’ for a place to hang your hat. I’ve got some choices. Not like those poor mangy curs that get hauled off to the farm, if you know what I mean. Anyhoooo, I was scouting out some suckers, ahem, proper kindly folk, if you see what I’m sayin’. I spy this couple-- goodness just oozin’ out of ‘em. They work with human puppies, for chrissake—you can’t get gooder than that.

I got a nose… I sniff around.  I find out they’ve got a friggin menagerie at their crib.

And just like that, I’m in. I get the lay of the land:  several hundred critters of all varieties hangin’ about. I got no beef with any of ‘em. Except for this one feline. Things don’t start out so good between us. This cat’s kinda mangy and gnarly and he’s got this one enormous fang stickin’ out. That’s it, no teeth, just a fang. Kinda creepy if you ask me. I stay clear of that dude for a piece. Then one day, some prissy skirt comes to visit. I sit on my butt all cute-like, hoping she’ll toss me a scrap or two. Nothing. Fang, doesn’t like to take no for an answer. Just as I’m settin’ there, tongue hangin’ out, Fang bursts out of the night and attacks that high n’mighty lady. She sees that tooth and runs screamin’ and I got to say, I was so happy, I had to chase my tail for a bit. Fang and I been fast friends ever since.

Life is all sunshine and roses for a good long spell. We have servants to cater to our every whim. We take walks, we hunt, we beg, we roll over. I’m no lazy thug, I like to walk—stretch my paws, strut my stuff, the whole shebang.

Until one day this thing happened. Man ‘o man, I was scared outta my mind. I gotta give a shout out:  we got some rockin’ servants… saved my sorry ass that day.

Walkin’ and talkin’ and winkin’ at the ladies, as I’m wont to do, we took a bad turn down a wrong street. I seen that goon before. He and I’ve swapped snarls. All of a sudden, like a bat outta hell, this punk runs at me, grabs me by the neck and starts making a 3-bark sandwich outta me. Just like that… I may be a badass, but this is too much. There was screamin’, there was blood—holy crap, my blood! That’s it, I’m out-- a goner, for sure.

I never been so glad to open my peepers. Battered and bruised, but still king o’the heap. I got some major street cred now. Everywhere I go, I gotta posse following behind. Special steak and some real good drugs. Everyone cryin’ and goin’ on about me. That’s what I’m talkin’ about.

It’s good to be alive.