Amid a pack of male dogs who gather around a female and have a hormonal frenzy, there’s also a street dog who walks besides a human that he claimed, or that claimed him, vice versa. They sit on the stairs to the closed store at night outside, and when the human figures that it’s time to head back home to his shitty life, the street dog gets up and walks next to him. They walk slowly at night; the man with both his hands in his pockets, and the dog agilely on his four little legs. They disappear into the dark. There’s packs of dogs in different gangs who cry together at night, who howl by the moon, and little rascals who tip toe cunningly inbetween moving street car lights. They sit by the roads, they walk with the humans. They bark at each other when there’s disputes with other four legged archnemeses. The world flows like a dog that zig zags inbetween cars and moving people. The world chills like the dogs that cuddle next to dirt by the side of the road. There’s humans who walk on four limbs from disabilities, and there’s dogs who walk on three limbs from injuries. Yet they’re just there; chillin like villians. These dogs are so smart and badass; even if they may have a short life span. It’s much better than getting your balls cut off and being put on a leash or cooped up inside containment for the rest of your life. Or get put to sleep by the hands that feeds them. The street dogs always seem a bit rough, but they’re so much wiser and free. Life isn’t easy for them, but that’s what makes them striking.