September 26th, 2043, 7:28 PM

I may be a dog, but I'm as cathemeral as a coyote. Whenever I want to do something, no matter the time, I do it. If I wake up in the middle of the night, I find something to do until I'm sleepy again. But despite that, my "day" usually starts at the end of most others'. And today was no different.

I woke up in my small, makeshift wooden doghouse on the rooftop of a run-down, abandoned brick building to see that it was evening. The bright sun glowed over the artificial red sky onto the freakishly tall buildings, and humans glued to their phones, earpieces, etcetera began to thin out on the sidewalks. While not as many or fast as daytime, expensive-looking cars rushed up and down the street, almost all on automated paths, still making it an absolute deathtrap. And I, just like every other day, was in the thick of it as if I wasn't the most wanted living thing in the city. One thought always comes to mind when I look down at this fiberglass city that I stood over;

"This is either too good to be true, too good to last, or both."

I left my doghouse and walked to an elevator on the side of the building. I pushed a red button on one of its walls, taking the elevator to the alleyway below.

Several animals had made this place home, settling down or asleep. There was a wide range of species in the alley. But there was one thing that almost all of them had in common. They were smaller than me. And that's why I lived there.

Pioneer City as a whole might be my base of operations, but Old Pioneer is the only part of it that I call my home. Almost entirely free from humans (mostly since every human who's here in the first place can afford to live somewhere better), this is the only place an animal that isn't a pet can thrive. And there sure are a lot more than you think. But even a society of animals has the ones who get the short end of the stick. Especially even. And here, most of them are right here in this alley or near it. And if I weren't there to watch over them, no one would.

I looked at almost every one of them individually as I walked through the alley, reminding myself that I was, indeed, looking after every one of them. Before I knew it, I was out of the alleyway. Then, I was out of Old Pioneer. Out of my home. And into the "real" Pioneer City."

One edge to being a dog to a human is that while humans with half a brain could distinguish any other that they'd seen before that had made an impression on them, we dogs' faces naturally mix. Even if the said dog, me, for example, is a border collie German Shepherd mix, which in and of itself is unusual. And that same reason is why there's a doctrine in this city to avoid accidentally getting the wrong dog; you could only engage me while I'm committing a crime. Otherwise, you sit back and watch me go.

So, I was making my rounds. Watching the people and cars go by, looking for the perfect little heist to start my day. I'd seen a "Grand Reopening" sign propped up last night at some sandwich shop called The Crisper that had to close because a car crashed into it. It was only fitting to stop by; the record has shown that my stealing from places like this does help their publicity.

But as I was thinking about how much of an ironic unsung hero I was, I finally saw him from the corner of my eye.

A Chilean human. Six feet tall on the dot with a buzzcut and just about the most defined face you'd ever seen. He was wearing a full-body suit of sleek yet bulky metallic body armor that was primarily silver except for the bright yellow chest plate and white wristguards, with the letters P.C.G.D all over it.

Joaquin Bravo. Captain of the Pioneer City General Defense Agency. And my quote-unquote arch-nemesis. He's, in all honesty, the only human I respect around here. I've had plenty of close calls when it comes to him. But that doesn't mean I don't like to have fun with him.

Bravo was on the sidewalk across from me, talking to some presumably older human male in a silver suit. From his mannerisms, I could tell he was talking to someone he respected. Despite his attention not being on me, I decided to keep my distance. Although odds were, we'd see each other tonight.

After a few more minutes, I'd made it to the Crisper. I heard a few humans inside, so I decided to eavesdrop a little. I quickly looked in either direction, then put my ear close.

"I don't think you realize how lucky we are that we didn't get robbed!" One human voice said.

"Oh, come off it. As if Roger would rob any place in broad daylight. And even besides that, you know the entrance has a history monitor now. If the boss gets word that we closed even a minute early, especially on the first day, we've got a reprimand and a half in store for us!" another, more chill-sounding voice argued.

This job ought to be an easy nick. Just wait till one of them leaves, then slink in while the door is still open. The first voice then grumbled.

"We'd also be in for it if we got robbed by the greatest menace to Pioneer city on our first day of business! You know how thin our ice is right now, May. If something like that happens just as we're getting back on our feet, I don't think we could ever get back up. I think even the boss would be able to rationalize that it's worth locking up a few minutes early if it meant not having all our food stolen." He insisted. I heard a light thump as if the first voice was laying his hand on "May's" shoulder.

Oh, well, that wasn't what expecting. But I'm helping the place by robbing the place. Right? Imagine how popular the restaurant would be when word got out that the great dog thief of Pioneer City hit it.

"So please, be more careful." he insisted.

A short silence. Then a sigh.

"Okay." May replied, followed by another sigh.

"Good. Now let's go." The first voice said.

Then, footsteps. It was about to be now or never. But part of me was starting to second-guess this particular nick. The publicity these guys would get might be different from the good kind.

I was just about to turn around and look for another target. But then, I saw a magazine stand in the small waiting room that stood out to me. That golden cursive title in front of a hot pink background couldn't be mistaken for anything but what I was assuming was the latest issue of a series I knew all too well.

Pioneer On Paws.

Believe it or not, the people aren't the thing I hate most about Pioneer City, and neither is the local law enforcement or how artificial everything seems to be. There is one thing I hate about Pioneer City more than all of those. And that one thing is the pets.

Pioneer City's pets have got to be the absolute most infuriatingly pompous things I have ever met. It's as if they took all their owners' worst traits and made them their whole character, making them much worse than their owners. Those pets that think they're so high and mighty as if they wouldn't be exactly where the rest of us is if they weren't lucky enough to be picked to be brought or born into some human's house or pet store. And you'd think that the kind of pets I described would be the kind that would have to be pampered and spoilt by some pretentious rich or famous human. But guess what? Those kinds of humans just so happen to be the only ones that own pets in this city! And Pioneer On Paws was just the magazine to remind me of every good reason to hate them. All it does is focus on the cushy lives of these pets instead of focusing on the animals like us in Old Pioneer as it should, considering it supposedly "keeps its readers updated on the animal world." This whole thing might sound like a political allegory, and I'm sure it would be if it were an animal writing this magazine. But for all it's worth, I more or less don't care about anything political that this could be an example of. In this case, my thoughts only go as far as what I say they do.

I was sure of my intentions again. Once the humans walked out of the sliding doors, I went right in behind them. My eyes were set on the magazine rack until I could pull out the magazine I was looking at in the first place. Once it fell on the dark green and white tile floor, I could see the pet on the cover. It was a siamese cat with blue eyes and what looked like a solid gold collar thick like an Egyptian necklace. I think an usekh is the kind of collar I mean. One thing I noted about this particular siamese is that the fur on her face was the same as the rest of its body.

"Joy Harrison's prize Siamese Cat Belle wins her second Cat Of The Year award in a row!"

I wasn't exactly surprised when I read the caption, and at least it wasn't a new low for this series. But either way, it gave me the perfect idea of where I would hit next that night. Yes, there first to show them what for, then I'd hit a store to get what I needed from tonight's run. With that, I left the Crisper to continue my night. And thanks to that magazine, I felt that it would be pretty interesting.