February, 1930 something

Waking up from a long nap usually accompanied some sort of treat, but there would be no kibble for Buck today. Only a warm smog filled the air choking every last inch of the house - he had always enjoyed hot weather, but not like this. Hugging the floor as best he could, he quickly worked his way out of the house and across the street where the full picture bloomed into view. 

His house. His family. It was gone. Good thing he had never liked them much anyways.

"Awoooooooo.", yet he couldn't help but give them a final farewell.

It was time to move on and so that's exactly what he did. Quickly escaping from the scene of the crime before the blare of sirens woke the entire neighborhood, Buck ventured quickly down into what was his favorite part of the city. The underbelly, there were always plenty of things to do and poodles to flirt with here. The scraps weren't that bad either.

"Hey, you mutt. Over here. Psst." 

It was the start of a new life and he hadn't even realized. The second he walked over to the man everything was set into stone, and Buck would never be the same dog again.  For the first time in his pampered life he would have to do things that very few dogs before him had ever had the chance to do. It was a revolution.

New York

Sewers were a funny thing. No one can see you as you peer above, yet you can see everything. Hear everything. If you're okay with a little bit of shit and sludge, you can be everywhere all at once. Your eyes and ears move to the motion of the city itself. New York was the perfect place for this sort of... undercover work. 

"Who the fuck does this?"

"What do you mean?"

"It smells like shit."

"That is shit."

"Then why the fuck am I walking in it? No man should be doing this."

That was his cue. Flying out from one of the many spiraling tunnels, Buck flew face first into the syrup colored water creating a rather exciting splash. This excited him, and so he splashed a little bit more. Looking up, he realized the two men staring confusingly down at the shit stained creature. Then he remembered.

"Woof. Ach! Ehchhhkkk. Ahem. Sorry about that, bad habit. Yes, wait. Can you say that last thing you said again? Sorry.", both men stood there confused. 

"Why am I walking in shit?"

"No. The bit after that."

"No man should be doing this."

"HA! HAHA! YES. THAT PART. HAHA. Uh, oh. Yeah. The punchline. Fuck. Can we start over?"

That's when the rumbling began. Buck knew that roaring sound from a mile away, this tunnel was no longer safe. It was time to move and he had to move quickly. Looking back up at the men he flashed a smile before jumping on top of one who in turned knocked over the other. Disoriented and confused, they both could not regain their balance. 

"Thanks for meeting me here, boys. Your services were helpful for a time."

Prancing down another set of tunnels he howled to himself as he heard the water roar and rip just feet behind him. If they didn't drown then maybe the rats would get them. Buck didn't like using guns, he was more inventive than that. Sometimes people lived, other times they died. He liked playing the long odds. 

Upon reaching the topside again, he could hear the two men angrily yelling deep below. This wasn't a good sign. He should have knocked them out first or something. Shit. Literally. They worked for a very important man, with very important guns, the kind that killed dogs. It wasn't the most ideal scenario, but he had to think of something quick. Following their rather loud and unpleasant voices, he finally reached the grate they'd try crawling out of.

"Lets get the fu-"

All they needed was a little extra push and it was over. The sewers would eat well tonight, but with this it was time to move on from New York. There was nothing left for him to do here. He had been feeding those two information for months and all they had done was used it for their own gain, their boss didn't even know Buck existed. They thought they could use him. They were wrong. 

Los Angeles

Moving on was hard, but he had heard stories of this boss. He was not a very thought-provoking man, he would only want to kill the poor innocent dog. This would not be good. So he was off. He had heard of they city that went by the name of Los Angeles, a city that was currently being ran by a group of people he had heard about - those who would be able to protect him. 

His city. His family. It was gone. Good thing he had never liked it much anyways. It was time to move on.

"Awooo-ckkk-ckk-yech. Wrong pipe.", at least he tried to give it a final farewell.

He didn't intend to let this story end like the first two. LA would be different, but in many ways still the same. After all, he fucking loved sewers. Loading up his things he set off on the plane, they made him sit in the storage compartment but it was a small price to pay for finally being able to turn over the proverbial leaf. 

It's tough being a dog. Next stop - LA.