It was a beautiful day, and Jay couldn't have been in better spirits if he tried. Everything, for once, seemed to be going rather perfectly. He had a steady gig, a beautiful girlfriend, and the awesomest power he could have asked for(or maybe he was just biased there). As it stood, he was wandering the sidewalk in his Boxer shift, a form that he didn't often break out, but it was a pretty day, and it wasn't a breed of dog too many people ran right up to. His gym bag was on his back, with the strap around his neck, just tight enough that it wouldn't really go anywhere.

He was taking in all the sounds and smells as he walked, tongue lolling out of his mouth a little as his tail wagged happily as he was just taking a happy little stroll--

"Hey, there's one! No collar I can see, either."

His ears perked up, as he slightly turned to the voice he heard. Oh ****, dog catchers....no way am I going back to the pound, he thought as he saw the familiar uniforms coming towards him.

And with that, the boxer form's muscles tensed, almost as if taking a stance before he sprang into action, barreling down the sidewalk, tripping people as he went.

Okay, so maybe his parade got rained on a little bit, but this should be a cinch. A former track runner in a body like a boxer? Piece of cake. He hoped. As long as he didn't run into anyone he couldn't knock over.

The prawn lumbered down the street, a plastic bag clenched tight in one of her massive hands. Though the day was, indeed, unseasonably beautiful, she walked with her shoulders hunched as if it were cold. Though step-by-step each venture out was proving easier than the previous one, she was still on-edge in public. She'd been struck by the strongest craving for bratwurst, however, which had driven her from her abode, and to an old German deli, which resided a few miles south of her current apartment.

Half of Jack pondered getting a potato salad, but the other half was bound and determined to get home as soon as possible.

She was so lost in thought, she did not notice the brindled brown boxer barreling down the sidewalk towards her. In fact, she didn't notice him until he rebounded off of her shins, setting the prawn's knees to clattering.

Jack wasn't one so easily toppled.

"****ing dog," the prawn muttered, her gaze trailing up the street from whence the dog had come. Maybe their owners were not so far behind?

"You sink solks'd 'e etter a'out kee'ing track uzz zere dogs in duh city, eh?"

The prawn stooped, patting the dog's neck. No collar. No tags. Lavender eyes assessed the canine.

"At least you aren't starving."

The question still remained, though-- where the hell was the dog's owner?

He felt like he'd hit a brick wall, rebounding off of it and sliding across the sidewalk. That was gonna leave a pretty bad road rash. The being he'd crashed into had an odd scent; she was female, but beyond that, he didn't recognize the scent. He shook himself off, pretty sure his side was going to be red for awhile once he shifted back.

And then....he hit the ground again as he felt a pair of arms around him. And another put a muzzle on him, complete with leash. Letting out a whine, he looked back at the stranger with his deep blue eyes, pleading for help.

Animal control-- rather than owners, two men in uniforms descended upon the dog, pinning it with a collar at the end of pole, muzzling it, restraining it. Jack watched impassively, for a moment, then her mouth began to move, seemingly on its own volition.

"Duh hell do you sink you're doing?" was her flat demand.

One of the animal control people regarded her with a quiet and careful stare.

"'s ny dog."

"Doesn't have a collar, much less tags," the animal control person smarted-off to her, "If you have a dog, it needs to be licensed."

"Got stuck," the prawn said coolly, " 'e got outta duh yard. Wriggled outta duh collar under duh sense. I accidentally lest it at duh house."

"Uh-huh," the animal control officer said skeptically, "How were you gonna take it home?"

"Easy. Was gonna tuck it under ny arm."

Another measured stare. Jack totally could tuck the dog under her arm.

"Look, I'll show you he's nine, okay. Here."

She hoped to god this dog was trained. Jack walked a few strides away.

"Let 'm go, I'll show ya."

The collar was removed.

"'ey boy," Jack called, "Here, Edgar."

He looked like an Edgar. She breathed a low whistle.

He was still trying to fight despite being muzzled and restrained. But then, he was shocked when the brick-wall he'd run into stopped them, telling them that he was her dog. He guessed the puppy dog eyes worked on all types of women, maybe. Or maybe it was just that he was a helpless looking-dog about to be sent to a pound. And really, Jay certainly didn't want to end up having to shift back, and wind up naked in a dog cage in the pound. That would mean a lot of paperwork, the cops would be involved, there'd be another 'public nudity' charge...

...Edgar? Well, that was as good a name as he'd been given. So he rolled with it. He was let loose, and then he walked to his 'owner' tail wagging and tongue lolled out of his mouth. He even gave a customary, jump up on hind legs for pets type of thing.

Not only did the dog respond to her summoning, but he was cheerful about it. Jumped up and put his front paws against the prawn’s abdomen. Jack gave the dog conciliatory pets, leveling another stare at the animal control guys.

“You can cun wiss nee to ny house iss you wanna see his tags,” the prawn grunted, her eyes thinned in a challenge, “Lizz o’er near duh Central 'ark Zoo, doh.” Which was a bit of a walk. If two New Yorkers wanted to waste a half-hour of their time calling a mutant's bluff, by all means…

“No, sir, we'll take your word for it. Next time, keep a better track of your dog.”

“Sure.”

Animal control left. Jack watched them go, all the while idly petting the dog. Once they slipped out of view, the prawn cast a glance at the boxer.

“Where did you really cun s’run,” the prawn murmured, “Sure are a whole lotta trou’le sore your actual san’ily.”

New York was huge, though. His family could be anywhere. The best course of action would be to take the dog with, and try to find his family later.
“Dang cute, doh. You hungry?”