Dog bDog Doggo, whose line you are likely all very familiar with by now, decided to shake things up today. He was going to step out and do his damnedest to not speak ill of the Plastic Mafia. He'd had an evening of mourning. This was a morning of love. He danced down the streets with his usual smile spread across his face, his two front legs arms limbs flicking around as he strolls, yet another tune rolling through his brain.

The funeral had past and aDog had been sent back home to be with Mama Dog eternally. But bDog had started growing fond of the dark suit. He felt dapper. He decided to keep it on. Who said dogs didn't need clothes? He remained cautious though - perhaps it was the attire that was holding everyone back. Everyone seemed to be suited and booted to look the part, but they weren't really out playing the part. There had to be some reason for it.

Of course the Doggos had put a lot of thought into that already - even discussed it openly. They'd had some great chats with people around the country, but so much of it was done in private. They didn't mind per se - any chat was a good chat as far as Doggo was concerned - but it did leave them wondering - why? Why the cloak and daggers?

He'd promised Mama Dog to always try using his words without barking. He felt that was especially important today, out of respect for aDog. He recalled the words his Mother taught him while young, 'Use your words softly, dear. Who knows, maybe you'll even make new friends...' He smiles as the conversation with his Mother replays in his mind. "You got it, Mama." He whispers to himself.

"Namaste!" He takes a deep breath. In through the nose. Hold. And out through the mouth. 

"Doggo has spent all night thinking... And talking to himself, if I'm honest." He smiles. "Should you admit that, Dog?" He squints his eyes, realising his silliness before continuing. He's compelled to ask, "That's normal, right? We all do that...?" His eyes shift cautiously, quickly moving on to the next point.

"We sat in peace for a while, too. That was nice." The dog nods. "Dogs like us don't get much time alone. Mama's an experienced breeding bitch - or a dam, as we prefer. No one's Mama's a bitch, right? Mama's are off limits." He lifts his paw and waves it side to side. "You see, that's something we can all agree on, right? Some unwritten rules are just understood by everyone... Well, by most I mean - we'll always have to suffer that small percentage. C'est la vie." The dog blows in the air, expelling his mind of those types.

"When I was still little... Littler than now... There was always at least a dozen of us running around causing mischief, picking fights with one another, baring our teeth and seeing who might fancy ruffing it up." He thinks back to the early days, growing amongst the litter. "I was never much of a fighter. That was aDog's game. Me, I had my words. My soft words." He leans in. "You know... Dada might have loved aDog, but Mama loved me. I'm her favourite." He beams with pride, and maybe a hint of arrogance.

"One thing our entire litter share though - our freedom. They worked diligently and tirelessly to ensure we were all strong enough to demand our freedom. They know how tough life is, they know how it grinds you down, how it can slowly take it's toll on you. Whether you're in this game or out of it, there are nasty people out there who will try to contain you. They will try to silence you and hold you against your will. So many of this world today are twisted and broken apart until they are nothing but empty shells of the tiny being they once were.

We were all little once, remember? Just pups - or babies. Totally innocent and unaware of what awaited us all out in the wide world. When one finally steps foot out into lawlessness, it's scary how quickly your instinct kicks in. Suddenly your entire environment seems to have changed. You're seeing the world through a new lens. You are no longer just existing and going through the world alongside everyone else - suddenly you are the point in which people are looking at the world. When they stop what they are doing and focus their attention on you, they are no longer experiencing the world the same way they were previously. Now they are experiencing it through you. In that moment, those people are connected. Collectively experiencing."

He stops for a moment to force air out through his lips.

"That's a scary thought, right? Listen, I'll tell you a secret... Mama gave me all the right words to say. She practiced me every day. She helped me and corrected me when my emotions took control of my soul. She reminded me when I was straying too far from my nature. She did everything a dog could ask for to prepare me for this world. She is an exceptional Mama dog, take my word for it.

But that doesn't change it. It's still overwhelming. Your blood pressure rises, your breathing staggers, your mind races... You may even begin to perspire. It's fuckin' scary out here, even if you come out every single day. Even if it's in your blood. Even if you've been doing it year after year. Still, no matter what preparation you think you have, it will bring you to your senses. You will find yourself in the present moment with just your conscience for support."

The dog mulled over his thoughts for a few moments.

"But again, like my line have suffered for so long... It's addicting. Something about expressing yourself freely is just... Freeing. Right?" He laughs. "I considered 'liberating' but it doesn't hit the same as freeing. Free is... Freedom. Liberating? Liberation? That's some fancy word some muppet in a suit made up, no doubt..." He looks down at his attire, quickly skipping on hoping no one would notice.

"The suit instils a little confidence, I must admit. I feel less desire to bark." He thinks for a moment. "Does that mean the suit is freeing me? Is it giving me confidence? Or is it limiting me? I feel less desire to bark... Shouldn't I be barking about that which I am most passionate?" He pulls out a little paw-shaped notepad and a pencil from his jacket pocket, quickly scribbling down the thought to revisit later before turning his attention back to you.

"Accept my apologies, I don't mean to be rude, but there's so much shit flying through this head of mine, if I don't start writing some of it down, I may be liable to burst. Plus, I wanted to use my new little pocket." Dog giggles. "That's in part why my line have put down the guns, you know? Not because we don't have pockets... But a dog bursting with words is a lot better than with a gun, right?" He pauses to let you think. "You see, us Doggos are pretty handy with guns too, historically. We seemed to have got a real kick out of it in the past - we could just keep throwing bullets at every problem we see in the world. But don't you think that's a bit unnecessary? Don't you think there's a better way of approaching this world? Of understanding it?"

He steps forward, coming closer to the people he'd hope would be in attendance, even if not to talk, then to listen. The dog looks around searching for eye contact with a fellow being. He maintained a warm, friendly smile. The Doggo even offered a hug, if you'd like.

"I think a lot of us are just desperate to be heard and struggle to make that connection. I think we're all guilty of using too few words and too many alternatives. Drugs, anger, guns, violence, gambling... The list goes on. I think it's natural for us to turn to these things when we feel in despair. And it's natural to feel despairing when we're not heard, right? Who doesn't want to be heard? We all have thoughts and opinions. We all have our own realities. Our own version of truth. If we live within only our own realities and refuse to be open to hearing other peoples, then what do we become?

Failures, if you ask me."

The dog sighed. He wasn't angry like his brother, he was disappointed.

"We were given the gift of free speech. Look around, this is America baby!" His deep English roots felt torn on the statement, but he did love the American ideals.

"The thought of failing Mama depresses me. I promised her I'd always try my best. She has always been okay with me failing, as long as I was trying my best!" He sighs a happy sigh. "Anything for Mama."

He takes some time to look around the crowd, his engulfing smile grabbing the attention of everyone as he relishes the thought of his Mother.

"The Doggo family would like to extend their paw. Today, we will partake in no malice, no animosity, no hostility. There will be no barking from bDog today."

Dog bDog Doggo drops to all fours, placing his front paws lower than his rear. He wags his tail and looks up at you.

"Shalom, friends. Would anyone else like to allow us to experience the world through their soul for a while?"

"Your topic. Your words. Your freedom. Share with us a speech... A poem... A song... Whatever random thoughts may have been going through your head lately... The floor is yours. Have you anything to share?"

A short shadow emerged from a nearby alley. She had been listening to all the speeches. Hell, she knew everything that was going on in the streets. This time though, she was wearing something different. A smart suit with a fedora hat. She lifted her head up, revealing her face.

"Yes. I do have something to say." she said calmly.

"You see... I am new to this. This... thing. Technically I'm still fresh off the boat... But when I came here from Italy, I had a choice. Find legitimate work and get paid with peanuts or live the life I wanted to live. Free. I did what I thought was best. Because for immigrants like me, the chances of getting a decent job is minimal."

"So that choice led to another... then another... and another. In the end, those choices brought me here."

She paused, taking a deep breath.

"A decent position in our world one would say... I guess you could call me a lucky one... I can't complain you know. I have everything I want... But for better or worse, I also care about others. And it pains me to see people going through this. And all the protesting and all this hatred, with sons and daughters despising leaders because things aren't like they used to be or because they want revenge."

"But the thing that pains me the most... is not being able to understand. I wasn't there when things were 'as they used to be'. I am unable to see the difference. For all I know, there could be no difference whatsoever."

Lucy paused once again.

"When I became who I am now, I swore an oath. It's a promise. And for as long as I am still breathing, I am never going to break it."

"However, I believe in second chances. I believe that your ancestors aren't who you are now. You are who you are. And for as long as it's you, I will treat you like I treat everyone. With respect. I don't care who your ancestors were, I don't care who you used to be... I care who you are now."

Lucy took off her fedora and showed it to the people around.

"You know... I bought this today, along with the suit. I thought it would make me look cool. But if this hat means 'shoot first, ask questions later' then..."

Lucy slammed the hat on the ground and stomped it with her right foot as hard as she could.

"I don't want to be like this. I want to be me. And do you know what 'me' means?"

She took out her luger pistol.

"It means that this... This reaper... Should be the last resort." she said as she dropped it on the ground.

Lucy opened her arms and faced the people around her.

"So now... Whoever is angry, or happy, or wants to hit me on the head with a folding chair, or whatever. I am all yours. I currently have 4 of these credit thingies on me. They are pretty valuable. If you want to act, do it now... Do it here, with everyone watching." she shouted.

Lucy looked around and took one last deep breath, standing in the middle of the crowd.

"Don't you worry. Whatever you do, I'll get your message."

He could hardly believe it. The Detroit mobsters speech had moved him and left him speechless. Rare were the moments his lineage didn't feel compelled to fill the air with yap. He looked down at the fedora and pistol, disappointed in what this world was turning into. He'd heard some sad stories from mobsters around the country about the state of things - he was keenly aware of what the top table were doing with their detestable tactics, but now it was staring everyone in the face in the middle of the streets. 

He sighed and pottered towards Luciana, keeping his eyes focused on the fedora sitting on the ground. He knew it was just cloth and stitching, but a mobsters fedora sitting on the ground in the middle of the streets meant so much more than that. It was a symbol of failing times. He didn't blame Luciana for it, he understood exactly what she was saying - she made so much sense to him where so few did these days. But a mobsters fedora generally only sat on the ground following a bloody conflict. As a believer of fate and the universe's grand plan, the dog feared this could be a foreshadowing. Despite what many may assume of the Doggo line, they meant what they said - they wanted an end to the to the unnecessary murder of young mobsters.

The dog pouts before leaning down to lift the the fedora and the pistol from the ground. He wipes the fedora clean on his chest and looks into her eyes before speaking.

"Consigliere Luciana - right?" He nods to be sure, despite already being so.

"I recognise you. One dog spoke very fondly of you - you took him in and treated him decently. An act unfortunately so rare, it stuck out to him. He told us all about the little, err.." He attempts to find the word. "You gave him a little book, like a starter pack, to help him get started in this world. You didn't treat him with suspicion or cynicism. You took him at his word and ensured he had what he needed to get started. You promised him support." Doggo came over with a pang of second hand guilt. "He felt bad having lied to you, but I think it's obvious you understand why he arrived in disguise."

He looked down to appreciate the crisp finish of the fedora in his hand.

"Great hat. We haven't worn one of these in a while, our line... Reminds me of someone from my bloodline. He was a silly old bastard, he'd tell us all manner of stories..." bDog chuckles. "The last of us to wear a fedora..."

"You're not like him though. The last person from my lineage in a fedora was a bit of an arsehole, to be frank with you. Probably deserved a bullet - but not from the people who took his life. He was cheated." He sighs, waving off the upset. Not today, dog.

"You do remind me of someone from my line though... Our very first generation here, in actual fact. Yeah, he was just like you. First generation and he made it to Left Hand - very impressive. In fact, I think aDog mentioned him - he was the lucky guy with the great sponsor. Taught how to use one of these." He waves the pistol around. It was starting to ache his limb, guns were heavier than he'd expected. "I hope you've had great mentors, Luciana. I fear a mobster of your calibre would be truly wasted without the right teachers. Or worse... The wrong teachers."

"Don't worry, I heard you, you care about who we are now - I won't go into all the details of our first dog. But I felt obliged to mention him because there came a point in his life when all this got too much for him. There was some upset surrounding the crew he was in and he didn't want anything more to do with it, so he gave up." He pauses, his eyes fixed on yours. "He... retired." The dog drops his head. "Ended what could have been a very lustrous career for him."

He looks back up at you.

"I'm telling you this because I don't want you to make the same mistake. I believe you - you are one of the few true oath keepers still around. This thing cannot afford to lose the likes of you. Your blood is rare.

I fear this world may twist you if you let it, you should pay close attention to ensuring it doesn't. But you seem wise enough to know all this already, I'll save you further lecture. I mean... A little dog like me can only know half the story anyway, right? I've read most of what I know!" He laughs and rolls his eyes. "Seriously though, I think you and my ancestors would have got on very well. Perhaps in different lifetimes, in different settings, our bloodlines would have a fighting chance at righting the wrongs of the world together. Who knows? Maybe when this insanity is over, our future kin may meet." The dog quietly hoped.

"There have been periods where it was like this before. They do tend to ebb and flow. This current era has been particularly harsh for many. But as my line have been saying for a while, eventually the tide will turn and prosperity will show her face again. I'd be lying if I said this thing doesn't grow less prosperous with each turn of the globe, but brighter days do usually come eventually." He couldn't be sure, but he did hope so.

He holds out the pistol and fedora, offering it back to Luciana.

"The hat looks good on you. You should keep it. You look the part. You fit the part. I think your bloodline are going to do very well around here."

He balances the hat on top of the gun to free up a paw and grab something from his cute little pocket.

"I don't carry much these days, Doggos never know when the man in the suits are coming, but here..." He places 6 of those credit thingies in the top of the fedora then places both paws underneath the entire package of gun, hat and credits. He smiles at you and inches them forward.

"Now you have 10. Thank you for coming out to share a part of your soul, Consigliere Luciana. You are braver and more respectable than every other person in one of these hats I've come across. You have my respect. I will ensure my bloodline try their hardest not to cause yours any problems."