Leah got better over the course of the week.

She slept longer than usual and it pleased her parents, but Sinclair often caught Prim and Honey muttering their worry over her health. He had accompanied them to the hospital twice, but nobody said a word about the results.

With Prim's permission, Matilde took Leah out into the yard to play, with Sinclair tagging along, of course. They took long strolls and he discovered that there were even bigger mansions than the Hopkins's scattered about the vast estate, but with smaller yards. To Sinclair, they looked empty and imposing, like big bullies, although Matilde did clarify that they could flood with such large amounts of people on certain nights that one would be shocked at the liveliness.

"The Woods live there." Matilde pointed to a tall white building, slowly pushing Leah's stroller.

Today, Leah was awfully quieter than normal, dressed in a bright blue tutu and soft pink shoes. Her hair had been flattened against her scalp, exposing colored cheeks and teary, watchful eyes. She had been wailing right before they walked outside. Sinclair often glanced at her and felt a pang of sadness if their eyes met and she did not smile. He knew she was very sad and sick too, but there was nothing he could do about it.

Unlike adults, she could not say more than a few familiar words, and so, there was no way for her to communicate how she felt. Sinclair would have loved to know what she was feeling. He dearly wished she would grow up quickly and have conversations with him – like Matilde did. That was the only way he could truly know what was wrong with her.

"That one belongs to Mr Aaron Brooks." Matilde continued, lifting a chin toward a different mansion. It was flanked by very vibrant vegetation. "His wife used to be a dear friend of Mrs Hopkins until, sadly, she passed away two years ago."

Because she held on to his leash in the same hand with which she gripped the stroller handle, Sinclair had to walk at her pace. He could barely see the mansion because of its tall fence, but appreciated the fact that Matilde had considered him enough to describe what it looked like.

"Mrs Jillian Brooks loved to garden," She went on. "So when she passed on, Mr Brooks let all her plants grow wild. It's why the place looks like a little jungle. I pity him. He's barely moved on. He always looks a little wistful and a little sad. You can see it through his smile whenever he says good morning. He wears a hat half the time so you rarely ever see his eyes. Boyd says they're a vibrant blue."

At that point, Sinclair glanced up at Matilde because she suddenly seemed to be speaking to herself and not to him.

Uninterestedly, he threw his gaze to the other end of the asphalt where light poles stood in a sequence. Several street signs were stationed at every corner, leading into a different street. Each was green with words written in bold white letters and an arrow serving as a guide, pointing at said direction. There were pleasant looking bushes here and there, with flowers peeking out of them and bees perching in them. Sinclair flinched at the thought of being stung by one. He once knew a dog who had experienced a bee sting before. Malika. She was just as young as he was, spent two weeks at the vet and never came back. No one really discovered what became of Malika, but he still hoped she was alright.

"Ah, look who it is!" Matilde exclaimed, making Sinclair turn.

Coming up to them was a blonde teenage girl leading a tall dog by its leash.

"Eloise." Matilde halted with a large smile.

"Hello and good morning, Matilde." Eloise's bright face brightened some more as she lowered herself to peer into the stroller. "Oh, hi, Leah. I haven't seen you since New Year's party."

She gave Leah a finger to shake, but Leah stared blankly, appearing uninterested.

"Oh, Lee's not feeling so well now. She's recovering." Matilde put out, half leaning over to peer at the baby.

Eloise's face fell. "Oh, I didn't know. Poor little baby! Get well real soon, Leah. I'll come visit you at home this evening."

"Taking Maxie for a walk." Matilde stated, glancing at the dog.

"Yep," Eloise confirmed, standing up straight. She turned to her dog. "Doctor says he needs to stretch that bad leg, you know, but Maxie's not exactly excited about walking such long distances. He gets tired easily."

"Not as young as I used to be. Don't got the spunk no more." Maxie chuckled, staring at Sinclair. "But anything to get away from Preston and his series. I been seeing The IT Crowd, until I can recite every damn dialogue. Say,  you the Hopkins new pet?"

"This is Sinclair." Matilde introduced as if on cue. "He's Leah's."

Sinclair thought it was hilarious how Eloise lowered herself forward to peer at him. Her head was unnaturally large from that angle.

"Aww, such a cute dog!" Eloise expressed, her eyes softening. She reached out to touch his head and rub his fur. "Hi, Sinclair."

Suddenly, Leah cried out. All the hairs on Sinclair's back stood on end as both Matilde and Eloise rushed to attend to her.

"Ugh, gods!" Maxie gagged and turned away. "Little thing's throwing up. I can't watch." He looked at Sinclair with a squint in one eye. "What do you say I introduce you to the hood, eh, while those two fuss of the Hopkins kid?"

Sinclair had half a mind to stay with Leah. He hated how panicked Matilde seemed. But Maxie had already picked up his leash in his mouth and was casually walking away. The dog was apparently bigger and older, and there was nothing Sinclair could do to make him stop.

Without much of a choice, he followed.

Maxie, or Maxwell – as the dog introduced – was a Great Dane. He belonged to Eloise's parents, Mr and Mrs Greer, and had lived with them for five years and counting. It was during a terrible car accident the year before that Maxwell's leg went bad after being caught in a jammed seat for hours until it was freed. Now, the dog walked with a permanent limp and was two times slower than Sinclair himself. He talked a lot too, like Fighter back at the pet store, but Sinclair easily suspected that Maxie was not all bark and no bite. He seemed like he could actually hurt someone when necessary.

"Those boys don't leave no trails in the hood like before," Maxwell was saying. "Because of the new rules. Woulda been easier to trace them with it, but now it's hard. Can't tell where they are no more cause no business lies around. Say, tell me if you spot any dogs down there."

Sinclair felt slightly irritated that Maxie was not sure where they were headed, but he did as he was told. A gated fence with reasonably wide bars was all that laid between him and an incredible yard mowed to perfection. Although he could sight no mansion, Sinclair thought the yard was the surrounding of one – one similar to the Hopkins's.

He glanced about and shook his head. The yard was empty. "No one around that I can see. Who owns the yard?"

Maxie limped toward the fence. "Odd. This is rendezvous, why is nobody here yet? Where's that bloody entrance again?! Haven't been at rendezvous since Christmas Eve."

The dog walked to a different part of the fence and nudged the bars. They swung inwards like a mini gate.

"Ah! Here we are!" He exclaimed and turned to Sinclair. "Come along, newbie. The others might be waiting already."

"Whose yard is it?" Sinclair nervously asked, walking timidly toward Maxie.

"Belongs to Dame Valerie Clay, but the lassie's long gone. Moved to the States with family since the late 90s. Agents take care of the place for now and until some rich bloke comes along to buy it, it's a dog's palace."

Sinclair tailed Maxwell quietly, peering here and there. Indeed, they came upon a mansion, but since it was not their destination, they went around it. Halfway toward the extensive backyard, Sinclair heard voices, and then spotted a company of dogs in a small circle.

As they drew closer, he counted seven in total.

". . . whatever you have to say, poop sack. You're a bloody rude frankfurter, and I'm gonna give you a piece of me." A short legged, tricolored dog was saying. He looked exactly like Bubble because he was a Beagle, but fiercer.

"You don't wanna get in a fight with a Sheepdog, now do ya, Harry?" Another dog, a Pug, asked, rolling his eyes. "Look at em. He's taller than you first of all."

"Well, drat heights because I'm smarter and have more self-respect than that good-for-nothing pooper scooper." The beagle defended.

The Sheepdog sighed in obvious exasperation. He turned in the direction of an approaching Maxwell. His face lit up. "Look, everyone. It's Max!"

The dogs all rose and said their greetings to Max, who was apparently older than the rest of them. When the noise died down, Maxwell nudged Sinclair into the middle.

"Take a look at what I found, homies. This is Sinclair, the Hopkins new pet for their sick little girl. What y'all make of him?"

One dog suddenly burst into boisterous laughter. "He's small fry for sure. What kinda dog are you, Eclair?"

Sinclair managed to clear his throat, regretting his decision to follow the Great Dane. "Um, it's. . . it–it's Sinclair. I'm a Corgi."

"I'm a Dachshund. Name's Rudi, son." A different dog introduced.

"A.k.a Weiner." The beagle added, joining the hysterical fit of laughter.

A quiet looking gun dog came forward. "Felix. I'm a Brittany."

Sinclair probably mewled, but he barely heard himself make the sound. "I-I know a Brittany when I see one. Pleasure to meet you."

"Look at em! So tiny, like a football." The hysterical dog, a Rottweiler, went on laughing still. He appeared sick because his eyes were oddly red.

"You're all scaring him." A different dog said, approaching. She was just as small as the Pug and Sinclair himself, with near golden fur and small eyes. "Shut your big mouth, Carl and Harry, or I'll make sure you both gargle bathwater."

Carl instantly quietened, but Harry continued to snigger.

She looked kindly at Sinclair, who had all but melted into the grass. "Hi, my name is Rosy. I'm a Yorkshire Terrier. Welcome to the neighborhood."

"T-Thank you." He responded.

"Now, for a proper introduction," She went on and walked to the Sheepdog. "This is Charming. He belongs to the Prestons."

"Hiya, Sinclair." Charming greeted with a wide smile.

"Rudi belongs to the Woods, Maxie to the Millers and you might already know that. Felix is the Murphys', Carl's the Chapman's, Floyd is the Heath's. Bruce is absent. He's our pitbull and he's with the Boyds, but they don't own him. Harry here lives with the Lowes."

"Say, that was a pretty fine introduction you did there, Rosy." Harry snorted. "Ladylike and all. You already like the newbie from the looks of it."

"Where's the wrong in that, Harry?" Maxwell questioned. "Your irritability's starting to piss me off. Can't ya just say hello to the little guy and let your hair down?!"

"Harry doesn't like newbies." Rosy interceded quietly. "But he'll warm up to you in no time."

Sinclair stared at Harry baring his not-so-intimidating teeth at the Great Dane then at Charming, who had supposedly interfered. "Yeah, I don't think he'll be warming up to anybody."

Rosy chuckled. So far, she was the only nice dog and did not make him shiver. "That's just how he is. You'll get used to it. He's harmless once you get to know him, I assure you."

"Oh yeah?" Harry challenged Maxwell loudly then glared at Sinclair. "How about I get our velvet hippo and pound your new friend so he's a couple of inches shorter?"

Sinclair gulped, his insides squirming. Rosy's assurance was not so assuring anymore. The last thing he wanted was to be ganged up on and beaten, and it was beginning to seem like that was exactly what Harry had in mind to do, more as a reason to prove his point – whatever it was – and insult Maxwell.

"You won't touch the corgi, Harry." Maxwell ordered plainly, but his twitching eyes showed he was dead serious. "He's new and he's small. He's no troublemaker. If you as much as nudge him, you'll pay for it."

Harry scowled.

In the next frightening moment, Sinclair realized that the beagle was on top of him, furiously teething his collar. Everything was blurry and hot, and he was too much of a mess of nerves to process how long it took, but eventually, Harry was pried off him.

His breathing came hard and his heart threatened to explode in his chest as he ran to stand behind Charming. He stared wide-eyed at his collar between Harry's teeth. The dog was oblivious to the numerous objective barks and yells around him, smugly displaying the ruined collar.

Just then, Matilde and Eloise emerged from the corner. Instant relief made Sinclair shiver from head to paw. He bolted toward Matilde with a yelp and flew straight into her safe arms.

"Oh, thank goodness!" She exclaimed, also sounding greatly relieved. "I'd wondered if you were lost. Mrs Hopkins would've had my head right after Leah did, that's certain. Don't walk off on your own and give me such a heart attack ever again."

Eloise came forward, handing over something red. "I think he might've gotten into a fight. Poor thing! Some dogs can be bullies."

Matilde received the collar and examined it for a moment. "Oh, well, we'll get him another one. Come along, Sinclair. Best we get going."

With that, Matilde turned.

"Bye, Sinclair. I'm so very sorry." Rosy called out sadly.

Sinclair buried his face in Matilde's shoulder to shut out Rosy's kind face. He did not want anything to do with the neighborhood dogs.

They were all bullies.