London, 2 miles from Pablo’s house
Nothing could be heard but arguing.
Victor didn’t understand a lot of what was being said, but he knew the basics. A problem. Involving what, he didn’t know. But that didn’t stop him as he raised his ear to pick up what his owner was bellowing into some poor guys’ face.
Then suddenly the door opened. Victor scrambled out of the way as the heavy boots of Arnold Vickoff thundered out of the apartment. “What are you looking at, you mangy mutt?” he growled. Victor watched as he stormed off, his boots making a large impact on the bare floorboards.
He knew he shouldn’t, but he had a strange instinct to run after the giant man. So keeping himself out of view (although he was a fairly small dog), he followed Arnold out onto the busy street.
When Arnold turned, he did not get the result he expected. Instead of kicking him and shouting in Slovakian, he simply nudged the dog to the side with the heel of his boot. It didn’t hurt the Chihuahua at all.
As Arnold traipsed off down the street (heading into a bar named the “One-Legged Sea Dog”) he started to think it wasn’t such a good idea to come outside after all. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know his way around; he’d lived in London for six years, so he had figured out all the basics...But when his master knew he had run off, he would surely be in for a beating.
Victor pondered the fact for a second. He could experience his first taste of freedom since his owner and his men had lost the war, or he could scurry home and get beaten up and bullied for no apparent reason.
He chose the first option.
At first having your own free will was great, but when you’re a little dog in a big city, bad things start to happen. For example, Victor was nearly stepped on 8 times, and was accidentally kicked at least 4. People didn’t even gasp and apologise; instead they just looked annoyed that a dog had got in their way.
After about 15 minutes or so, Victor came to a crossroads...Literally. He could either turn left, or turn right. He thought for a moment. His brain was telling him to turn right.
So he did.
I suppose it is a good thing he chose this route; for if he hadn’t, he never would’ve found the window, revealing the face of a man he had met many years earlier...