((For Lupus and Fritz. I WASN'T KIDDING!))

The sun was overcast with patchy gray clouds that performed the ultimate display of subtle languidness and a universal bad mood. The main street was just as bustling as ever. Cars honked in frustration as passers-by disregarded the crosswalks; motorcycles came within inches of collison; the little side markets were vying for attention and occasionally recieved it, while formal shops waited for their costumers to give up finding something else new--they understood that such a thing was near impossible--and continue on with their monotonous routine that came with these nasty days. Of course, until the sun came out again. Only then would humans sigh in relief and give each other a break for courtesy's sake.

But people always seemed oddly affected by the weather, something Lupus had yet to understand. She was sitting on a flat-topped dumpster in an almost abandoned part of town, overlooking the commotion upstreet and wondering how long her composure would last in that. True, dogs were hypersensitive when truly inescapable weather was near, say, a hurricane or a tornado. But to her widespread knowledge, they were never prone to snapping at other's necks when it was raining or created families in the glorious warmth. Lupus shook her head; but the movement was vague, like she was answering an internal question or showing a form of experienced pity.

Her inital goal had been set in stone for nights now. This alleyway was a free dog favorite, even if their was only one solemn mutt per hour. The Estrela was naturally patient; being a herd dog entailed watching an entire flock for hours and watching for danger at the same time. Forget no previous experience. It was in her blood to wait, and that's exactly what she did for half a week, checking various points in the city for free dog activity while remaining incognito. Strangely the weather didn't faze her, and she had been a Family dog for the first year of her life. The rain cleared her mind. It was aweing to her, no matter the cold or the oncoming illness. Calming, actually.

But her luck had ran out. Even though dogs didn't go through mood intervals during the bleaker days, they were smarter than the humans (or more cowardly) and retreated to any abandoned piece of shelter available until the rain let up. So now, Lupus had concluded to just sitting sphinx-like with her dark brown paws dangling over the edge of the dumpster, more muddy-looking now because of the city puddles. All the while her thoughts were smooth, calculating, cooking up thoughts and schemes of her special, dangerous secret.