Chapters written by Warriorpup28

Normal dogs didn't stay up until 9 o'clock to work on a project that didn't guarantee a profit when said dog should be sleeping, but desperate times called for desperate measures, which left no room for comfort or logic.

Typing the final sentence, a gray husky sat back in her chair, admiring her now-finished book. A cookbook, precisely. The only project in the works as of late that could provide a different source of income. Any other source would be fine. But rent anywhere in Adventure City was pricey, so she was stuck. As usual.

Looking at the clock, Gasket sighed and closed her laptop, saddening. Cooking was one of the only comforts she had as of late, yet she had such little time to enjoy it. And the range of dishes she could make was shrinking as Jamie, her four-year-old son, was becoming picky.

His diet now consisted of chicken nugget dinosaurs, peanut butter on sliced bread, or french toast —his favorite— on special occasions. She smiled at the thought of teaching her son how to make peanut butter on toast. It was the first recipe she ever taught him.

Cooking was the only time when she truly felt in control of things. But work left her little time for it. She swivled around in her chair as squealing came from behind her.

Jamie was still up, playing in the corner with his dinosaur figures, the only ones she could afford to give him. It hurt her that she had to penny-pinch so much and how it negatively affected him. When he deserved everything she could give him and more.

She walked up to him, kneeled, and watched as he made his T-Rex bite down on the head of a helpless velociraptor.

The toys were toys in the sense of the word, but they were crudely cut-out pieces of wood with paint haphazardly slapped on the splintering surface, but Jamie loved them as if they were hidden treasures only he had the map to find.

"Ready for bed?" Gasket leaned down and placed a hand on his shoulder.

Jamie's smile seemed to waver as he looked up at her with big worried green eyes. And that is when she saw it, the hidden pain that he carried, afflicted with, only this year. But to her and possibly him too, it seemed like a lifetime.

"Already?" he whined

Gasket nodded and reached down and picked him up as he clutched onto his toys, carrying him to his bedroom. Once he was tucked in, she brushed her hand along his cheek as green emerald eyes met hers, clouded with worry.

"What is it, baby?"

"Spots," he said in his small voice.

Realization struck her and she left the room and headed to her room. As she passed the kitchen she glanced out of the window at the glowing city, Adventure City was beautiful, she admitted, she just wished her apartment was in a nicer location. It was closer to work but she didn't know if that was a good thing or not.

Once she was in her room she pulled up the blankets on her bed and quickly found a fuzzy stuffed dalmatian hiding under them. As she gazed into his black eyes like he would respond, she spoke as earnestly as she could. "I'm counting on you Spots."

When Spots remained quiet she brought him back to Jamie's room, who was fidgeting under the sheets, trying to find a comfortable spot. His face was too stressed for a child to be when getting ready for bed. The drowsiness and peace were missing and worry and apprehension masked his features, but a spark of hope lit in his eyes as he saw his faithful stuffed animal.

"There now." She gazed deep into Jamie's eyes, trying to instill into him all the love and comfort she could offer. "Sweet dreams, baby."

Leaving him alone in the darkness was hard. But she only had hours to sleep before her shift began, and she would need all her energy. As soon as her head hit the pillow, sleep pulled at her, yet she kept one ear perked just in case Jamie woke up, just in case Spots couldn't fight off the monsters in Jamie's dreams.

She didn't know how long she had been asleep because she didn't have time to check the clock when crying ripped her out of her sleep and Jamie became the only thing that mattered at that moment. She worked on autopilot, going straight to the kitchen and hurriedly grabbing all of her supplies for Jamie's anti-nightmare drink. Warm milk with honey and cinnamon.

Once the drink was made she hurried down the hall into Jamie's room, spilling milk on her arm as she screwed the cap on and opened the door.

The sound of crying met her ears and agonized her as she sat down on the small mattress where her son lay, with his head in his pillow. Spots was in his arms, head hanging down to the mattress as if remorseful that he had failed to comfort Jamie. It wasn't until Gasket rubbed his shoulder that Jamie noticed and rushed to her side, abandoning Spots and burying his muzzle into her side.

"Shhh. It's ok baby." she cooed, rubbing his head behind his ear until his shaking stopped. She grabbed the bottle and once she sat him up, she gave it to him. He sucked it dry before she could blink and finished with a sniffle, a burp, and then a choked laugh.

But there was nothing funny about this to Gasket. It had been six months of this. Frequent nightmares that plagued him and kept both of them sleep-deprived. She had taken him to the doctors but the medicine they suggested was way out of her price range, so they gave her home remedies instead, one of which was the milk.

"Momma," he said, sleep heavy in his voice, scratchy from the crying. Leaning down, she tucked him in, draping the cover up to his chin and sighing as he nuzzled Spot against his cheek as if Jamie had forgiven him and trusted him again. Her watch buzzed and she knew all at once that she had to go to work. Sighing, Gasket stared into his eyes, rubbing his cheek with her paw.

Fighting to keep his eyes open, he asked a question that hurt her to her core. "Can you stay?"

Shaking her head, Gasket brushed loose fur from his face. "I'm sorry, Mommy has to work." Not waiting for him to argue, which he had in the past, she exited the door, peering in until the last second as the door closed softly.

The streets were empty and most of the city looked asleep, much like she would like to be, if it weren't for Jamie or his need for medicine. The bills and rent.

Bright neon lights shinned down on her as she pulled into the parking lot. Killing her engine, she took a hard look at the front entrance of the building. It was a one story black building with pink neon lights lining the outside with the blinking sign that read "Dancers and drinks."

Chase, the bouncer, was there as usual, arguing presently with a drunk husky who didn't know his head from his tail. His voice penetrated through the closed door but was too muffled for her to make out words.

Sighing, she got out, duffel bag around her shoulder. Her frown deepened as she heard the tail end of their fight. As she recognized the husky.

"You don't know me. I will mess you up brother. Take one step at me. Gasket is my girl, why shouldn't she take extra care? Extra care of me? I. . I haff been comin heres since I was twenty-two." He caught her eye and tried to push through the solid shepherd to no avail. "Gasket, Hey sweetheart! Am I gettin my special? Special dance tonight? I just got my paycheck."

Chase didn't budge and Gasket didn't answer more than a shake of her head and an apologetic glance.

"Don't mind him," Chase said opening the door for her with a small smile, before turning to the red husky and wiping the drool coming from his mouth. "Alright listen. I don't want to see you loitering around here until the club is open. . ." the door shut and Chase was cut off. She hoped Chase wouldn't be too hard on him. John was her best customer, despite his overzealousness as of late. No matter. What happened outside of the club wasn't her problem.

The stage was empty, as were each of the adjoining platforms, but the club didn't open for thirty minutes. Moving through the sea of wodden tables and passing the bar, she headed backstage to her locker.

The gray walls seemed to close her in as she entered, and the smell of sweat, perfume, and cigarette smoke stung her nostrils. Reaching her locker, she unlatched it and opened it, rubbing her eyes as if there was still smoke in the air. Inside she found her outfit, short shorts, and a short tank top, her heels, necklace, and bracelets. Her only armor against the prying eyes of her customers.

She had just closed her locker when the music started. She hadn't noticed her fellow dancers in the room until now, and she was pulled into the conversation. Kylie, a German shepherd, was gushing over the new car she bought. Jackie, her friend, a golden retriever, squealed in excitement and went on about her new bracelet, studded with diamonds, catching the light of the fluorescent lights above.

There was a reason they were able to buy more things, earn more money, something Gasket never felt right about doing. Special dances for special customers. The others had encouraged her to join in and reap the benefits that a little extra attention, a little less clothes, could bring.

She shook her head as her stomach churned. She would never stoop to that level. Before she knew it, her song was playing, beckoning her on stage. Walking out into the open, feeling many eyes burn into her, she approached the pole on the center stage and grabbed on. Locking her wrist to it with the shackles that always came with the job. And even though she had the keys to her freedom, she was certain that this was the only way. And as she began her dance, ice ran through her veins as John was at the front of the stage, watching her with hungry eyes.

Closing her locker, Gasket wiped the sweat from her brow and sat down on the wooden bench, tuning out the other girls getting changed into their street clothes. She was physically there, but nothing else. It wasn't until she was dressed and in her boss's office that she felt present, and that moment of relief was drowned out by disgust.

A middle-aged bulldog named Rubble, nicknamed Trouble for his attitude, was looking out of his window, watching the last show of the night.

Seemingly ignoring the anger she was feeling that was surely showing, he looked at her with an almost guilty expression. But once Gasket reached into her purse, his face lit up. As she counted out his cut, she couldn't help the anger from bubbling inside of her. She was the one doing all the work. Why did he get a cut? When he did was sit at his desk all day, drooling over the performances without paying a dime?

"Don't look so down about it," The bulldog said as he collected the money. "Where would you go if not here?" Laughing, he leaned under his desk and the sound of a safe being unlocked broke the silence.

With a huff of annoyance, Gasket exited the building, stopping to pay a dog that actually earned his keep. Pulling out her money again, she smiled as she gave Chase his cut. He cared for her more than anyone else in the whole stinking building, so that made saying goodbye to her hard-earned money easier.

"Did it go any better tonight?" Chase asked, putting the money in his pocket.

"As well as you'd expect," she said.

Chase patted her shoulder, smiling as the moonlight caught his eyes. "I've been praying for you."

"I don't pray anymore, remember? Not since Dad died." Suddenly Gasket wanted to take back the money she'd given him. He knew this was a sore subject for her.

"That was five years ago."

"Ya, it was! And where has God been in these last five years as I've raised Jamie by myself? When my husband walked out on us? What is God doing to help me now?"

"More than you know," Chase said, smiling sadly. He went to pat her shoulder. She jerked away from him and shook her head, storming off to her car.

Once she got home, she checked in on Jamie, who was sleeping soundly before she jumped into the shower. Showering was an expense in its own sense as it would always take her longer after work, scrubbing herself down with shampoo twice just to get the feeling of eyes on her out of her fur, but it never washed off completely. Just like now, she still felt, well, dirty inside.

Toweling off, she put on her pajamas: a white tank top and some black sweats. Grabbing her squeegee, she began wiping off the steam from the mirror. Maybe if she kept her surroundings clean it would help her feel better about herself. Cutting a clear line through the foggy mirror, it revealed a gray husky looking back at her. But she was hard to recognize. Their fur was the same color, their eyes held the same grief. But there was a disconnect. A static signal that kept them apart. The only time they felt connected was when she and the gray husky cooked. Made things with her body, instead of using it, exposing it. For money that always ran out too soon.

Sighing, she exited the bathroom and walked down the hall, and was about to crawl into bed when the sound of Jamie crying  crashed into her. Gasket rushed inside his room and found him on the floor, covering his head like he was hiding.

"Baby, what is it?" Gasket kneeled and grabbed his paws, trying to find his eyes as he shied away from her. He bowed his head and Gasket rubbed behind his neck as his tears stopped.

"Shhh it wasn't real. It wasn't real," she cooed. "Are you ok?"

His voice came out weakly, "Yes. But. . ." he trailed off, eyes darting to the comforter on his bed. He put a paw over it and looked at the ground.

Gasket scooted closer next to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. "But what?" She sniffed at the comforter and a sour, bitter smell flooded her. When she lifted the comforter, she found a small dark circle soaked through the sheets.

"It was an accident," he burst out, reaching for her and burying his face into her lap as the tears returned. Wrapping a protective arm around his back, she shushed him and stroked his neck.

"Oh Jamie, why did you hide this, baby?"

"I didn't want you to be mad," he said, voice growing tired but filled with guilt as the last of his tears dried up.

"Of course I'm not mad. Come on. Let's get you changed, ok? You're sleeping with Mommy tonight."

"Ok," he said, sniffling.

Grabbing his arm, she helped him up and sat him on the end of his bed that was still dry, and grabbed the bottom of his shirt. "Paws up."

When he obeyed, she lifted the shirt off of him, threw it in the hamper.

And, holding his paws, he took his wet bottoms off. Throwing them in with his top, she turned to his dresser and rummaged for clean jammies.

She turned to him, "Do you want dinosaurs or stars?"

"Dinosaurs," he said, his tail thumping once against the mattress.

Once he was dressed, she carried him to her room. Once he was tucked in, she left him and came back with a glass of water. He drank it without complaints and smiled as she nestled under the covers and hugged him tightly. Once they were settled, she brushed the fur on his arm as he nodded off and as she let her mind wander.

She knew exactly what he needed most, and it ate her up that she couldn't afford it. Affording it meant sucking up whatever reservations she had about her job and doing what was best for them both, ignoring the queezy feelings and guilt that came with it.

Her sleep was broken and filled with nightmares of her own. Protective services would be taking Jamie away. Jamie would be crying. She would be just out of reach. She would force herself awake, breathless, just to make sure he was still there.

After the third time, she gave up on sleep and busied herself by brushing the fur on his neck and letting his small whines of pleasure console her worried heart.

She stayed like that, losing track of time completely until the sun came up.

As the fiery orb rose in the sky washing over her and Jamie, warming them, she wished she could freeze the moment in time and stay there forever. Jamie nestled into her side, sleeping soundly and the sun warming her fur. But the perfect moment was interrupted by the buzzing of her phone.

Jakie was asking if she would be ok with closing that night and Gasket hastily replied yes even though the thought of work nauseated her, and made her skin crawl. More hours were more hours. And she had never let such feelings stop her before, so she shoved them deep down and focused on something more important, something that would make Jamie happy at least. And making him happy made her happy, and when she was happy, she died a little less inside when she left him for work. And that was as close to happy as she could be today.

By the time she finished making breakfast, Jamie had woken up and was walking in, rubbing sleep from his eyes, dragging Spots along the carpet.

"Good morning, baby. I made a surprise for you."

Taking a sniff of the air, all the tiredness left Jamie and his eyes lit up as he scrambled to the table. A big plate stacked with French toast, sprinkled with powdered sugar, a bowl of blueberries and strawberries, and a small glass of chocolate milk was spread neatly on the table. Devouring the sight with his eyes, he turned on Gasket and rushed to hug her, tail wagging fiercely.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," he yipped happily. He rushed back to the table and reached for the glass of brown milk and had the rim up to his lips when she placed a paw on his shoulder.

"Drink this first please," she said, trading the milk for a glass of water.

Nodding his head, Jamie started drinking in rushed gulps, but he almost spit out his drink as Gasket sipped some of the sweet brown milk.

"Mommy, that's mine," he whined. "I dwank my water, see."

"I was just tasting it," she laughed and looked down at his almost empty glass. "Thank you." And she traded him again.

Sitting back, she once again wanted to freeze time and live in the scene before her forever. Leaning her chin on her paw, she took in every detail, trying to commit them to memory. To capture and preserve Jamie digging into breakfast, all of the fear and misery plastered on his face gone from last night. Glimpses of a happier healthier pup that had been missing for so long, shined brightly.

●•●•●

The faces watching her made her stomach clench as she danced, and she tried her best to block them out, but everything she would open her eyes, they would be there, devouring her like Jamie devoured breakfast. They looked just as hungry. Just as eager. It sickened her that she could make comparisons with her son with her . . . customers. They were customers, this was a business, and this wasn't just for money. It was how she made her life, Jamie's life. Better. Happier. So she could bring back the happy healthy pup that had all but vanished in the wake of the nightmares. She missed him.

She paid little attention to the money that collected at her feet, only thinking of her son, how happy he was during breakfast.

Shaking her head, she let out a breath as her song ended and she was able to take her break. Picking up her money, she hurried into the back as Kylie, passed her, walking with purpose to center stage as her song bounced off the walls.

Before she reached the safety of the lockers, an arm grabbed her and she cringed at the sight of John.

He was drunk, that was clear.

"Hey, sweetheart, where ya goin? I could. . I want a private dance. Please, just once?"

"I'm on break, one of the other girls will be happy to take you," she said flatly.

John lowered his ears, a look of desperation on his face. Fishing into his skintight jeans, he produced a wad of cash so thick it made her heart skip a beat. "Are you sure?" His voice dripped with something, whether it was strain or drunkenness she didn't care, because the money in his paws was screaming her answer for her.

"Just one dance?"

The husky smiled a toothy grin and nodded eagerly. His eyes lighting up just like Jamie's did when he saw breakfast. That is what she was seeing in John's eyes. Hunger.

Taking in a deep breath, Gasket, looked around to make sure nobody was watching, and took him down the hall into one of the private rooms, and closed the door.