Huh? Who's there? Dog at the front door barking at the air

"Panda season is over."
The dog snarls, barking once more, grabbing the attention of all.

Wind all "whsshsh" in the trees
Then, "chk-chk-chk-chk," feet on leaves
Uh, it's probably a cat
Might be a guy with an ax
Might be a trap, shit, it's probably a trap

"I promise you, this is not a trap." The dog smiles softly.
"Allow me to introduce myself; I am Dog. Don't let the young look fool you, I'm old and wise in doggy years. My line have been around. We're not as long in the tooth as some of these bastards, but there's plenty of people around who have been around the block and seen what this place can be. For better and for worse."

The dog pauses to hydrate.
And take a breath.

"Ayy, keep it moving," God, I sound stupid
Good chance I'm not even talking to a human
Then again it's probably a trap, somebody had to set it
Depending on the type, maybe several

"My line has been asked increasingly over the years why we do the things we do. Most often, we'd kneejerk and say 'Why not?' - Classic guarding expected of my bloodline, if I'm frank with you. They're paranoid. And generally right to be so, but all the same... It can get in the way. Not every member of my family has come with a brain. Some have had their problems. Not all could overcome the paranoia. Some simply didn't care to, others tried and were reminded why not to. Oftentimes it has cost us rich blood. Pedigrees. Some of our strongest work has been wasted as a result of unnecessary violence. So why the fuck shouldn't we bite back once in a while?"

The dog growls.

"Why has this business become entirely about blood? Is that the only racket that exists around here now? You're not mobsters. You're psychopaths. You've twisted the entire community of mobsters this way. Everyone has blood on their hands... Their paws... Because of you. This dog deserves an apology."

"It's disgusting. You're bloodthirsty. Yet, you'd look down at us as mutts." He bares his teeth. "It's lazy. You're all lazy."

"Power should be treated with respect. You've got the power, sure... But you've not earned it. Why would you get upset when people act out? Call you a fraud? Does a real gangster have to come out into the streets and declare... 'I'm a gangster, I play the part' - Ha! You're a plastic gangster. All of you. Plastic gangsters. Welcome to the 1950s, the new age of mobsters conmen pretending to be mobsters as they hide behind their huge defences and artillery only showing their face to demand apologies for... continuing to slowly feed mobsters into the meatgrinder? Boring."

"One dog was once asked, why do you continue to disrespect 'us'..." He smiles. "What else does 'them' do?"

"This place was founded on business. In the 30s, there was business. Now there's little more than murder. You're fucking animals. Just them and us. No business. Just them, us, spacepole and his apologies... Somewhere in the middle probably, right? One has to wonder. Was it just kisses n cuddles that has given Spacepole the opportunity of new life or are they just milking him as the regime begins to struggle for new investors after sucking them all dry over their reign.

The dog pauses a moment.

"You know what, I could get sent to the pound for saying this but I'm sick of hearing about it... So many of you muppets complain about the terrible reign of Disorder, but let's set one thing straight: Prosperity existed, right? Opportunity existed. It wasn't murder alone, there were moments to share. Memeries. Memories. Now what we got?"

"I'm sure there was plenty of other shit going on, all regimes have their issues, all empires get too much."

"Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely, remember?"

"But at least we had discourse in the streets. At least a voice was offered. Discussions were had. The leaders had faces. People had BALLS."

"Tyranny? Tell me, what is the truest sign of tyranny? Bustling streets or desolate ones?"

"Posturing and murder? Or open discourse and discussion?"

"Media is often one of the first casualties of tyranny."

The dog cocks his leg and pisses up your doorway before dancing onto your law and flicking his paws toward your windows.

Hmm, maybe I am entirely tripping
It might've been the neighbor's kid, but I have my suspicions
I wish it were as simple as a critter, but it isn't
I feel that it's important we consider all dimensions
Like, oh, I don't know, maybe it's a trap
I step onto the lawn, y'all jump out with the bag

"The truth is, my line are bored..."
"... And we breed like fucking rabbits. There's so many fucking dogs n pups. Dogs carrying pups, pups chasing dogs acting like pups being little spups, sup. Ha."

Dog chuckles.

"Some people draw pictures. Some like boxing. Some like spreadsheets. My lot? We do this..."

"That's about the length of it to be honest... My bloodline has never enjoyed the stalemate. It's boring. We should always be striving to improve what we currently have. Always evolving."

"So few try to improve this place anymore... It's all minimal effort and participation trophies. What a waste of opportunity."

"So my lot get bored. Boredom breeds mischief. Hopefully one day... Mischief brings change. If not, meh. Maybe next time."

"Really, though... Honestly, there's just nothing I love more than coming out to chat to you beautiful bastards. Hey. How you doing? How you been? I missed you guys." He chuckles.

"Even if people pretend like they're not listening. Fuck, even if they're really not listening... I'ma still talk. Just ask my friends."

"I'm an old soul. I belong to another era. I fear I am doomed to exist in a time distant from my nature. Never quite fulfilled with what is because of what could be."

He stares down at a polaroid of the Streets in the 1930s. In a time when people still came out to play with the doggo.

He sighs and smiles softly, losing his attention in the photograph.

I wake up in some alley on a wholly other plane
Can't remember who I am or how to get back to the base
I realize you people think that I am off the deep end
I'll say that it's a lovely night regardless of the BS
It is, a perfect snow is freckling the path
It's almost like the atmosphere is begging for a trap

"I know you're probably reaching for your gun now. But if you fancy a conversation before you pull the trigger, either out here or in privacy, I continue the offer my line has always tried to uphold. If I wish to share what we discuss, I will ask permission. You want to be a mobster? Come, be a mobster with me. Let's discuss mafia. My family have always enjoyed connecting with others. This is what has kept us coming back."

"I don't need a gun. I don't need to live forever. You cannot stop the power of the voice, despite your best efforts."

"Mafia is about connecting with those who hold similar visions as you. It's about inclusivity. It's about working together. If mobsters continue down this path, organised crime will belong to the bureaucrats within decades... The same people who tried sending you to war!"

"I appreciate every tip, every mail, every piece of correspondence my line have thus far received and will go on to receive: both the good and the bad. You've a right to be heard. You've a right to enjoy your existence. You've a right to have an impression on how the future is shaped."

"My line have spent time in multiple crews around the country recently. We have experience appalling levels of mobster behaviour. I'm sure you've heard it all before, I'll save you forever-growing list of atrocities taking place."

"Yeah, I'm sure many will come out and attempt to pull me up for contradiction, breaking omerta or some such shit, yada, yada, yap... yap... yap..."

"We don't care. We don't acknowledge your bullshit loyalties. Most of you have no real loyalties, you just haven't found your price yet. You will."

"So you will continue to listen to me yap or you will fuck off somewhere else. No button, gun or 'protection' required."

"Just out here speaking."

"Thinking."

"Freely."

Dog slowly rises and moves to a cleaner patch of your lawn.

He remains standing, his sharp eyes fixed on yours.

He smiles as his brain begins to play with him as his final moments approach.

Did he do enough?

Will they be fair to the old dog?

A clean shot through the skull?

Any words of encourage for his journey on to the next life?

Something for the family?

The mutt goes quiet, one last sniff, lopes inside
Fine, it might've been a baby squirrel who tumbled from the nest
It's probably just you motherfuckers missed

"Let's just hope it's not a bus crash."

The dog closes his eyes.

I appreciate your style pup, something different and something new. Can't say I agree with everything said and somehow I can understand it, who knew I could speak dog, but that is a good thing in its own right to have different opinions. We're not all the same.

Although I cannot stand for animals being hurt, us humans can die for all I care. Yet, not a poor animal!

Admiral was walking down the street, minding his own business, when a loud dog bark shattered his concentration, the insistent sound as if the animal were trying to convey a warning.

"A trap, perhaps?" he murmured to himself, the thought barely formed when the dog seemed to confirm his suspicion.

It burst through a nearby doorway and leaped against his chest, a furry, frantic weight. "Good boy," Admiral mumbled, patting the dog's head.

"I'm gonna keep an eye on this dog," he thought, a sense of unease settling over him.

"Seems like he has a knack for sniffing out traps."

"Thank you, Boss Mistletoe, Consigliere Admiral. I appreciate you both making the effort to step out, to speak and be seen with a humble doggo like me."