New panel: Scruffum’s and Squeezer have scraps nearby that they have been eating.
Squeezer: I am telling you, Scruff, one day, I am going to race. And when I do, even the alphas will
bow at my feet. Here, in Society Russia, the humans will beg me for food. In short, I will be a god
among dogs, and a dog among men!
Scruffums: Squeezer, we have both known many dogs who raced. And when they win, they are
celebrated, treated like royalty. But as soon as another dog begins nipping at their heels, they join
are thrown out as yesterday’s keşkek.
Squeezer: Surely you meant to say okroshka, being, as we are, Russian hounds.
Scruffums: Yes, we are Russian hounds, as you say, and so you might have expected me to use a
colloquialism involving that traditional Russian vegetable soup—
Squeezer: —not just any vegetable soup. It traditionally consists of two vegetables, one neutral, the
other spicy. Sometimes it is made with sour milk—

Smash cut to: Russian countryside, Scruffums is playing in a field, with some other nondescript
dogs.
My youth was filled with hours of play. Every where I turned, my fellow dogs were bounding and
leaping, tugging of war, and so on.
Montage of scenes where Scruffums plays with other dogs, looking positively delighted. Tail
wagging, and so forth.
Then, continuing the montage, but now with additional narration boxes:
It was torture and despair.
It was hell.
It was a saccharine, candycoated,
lie.
Cut to: Scruffums and another dog, Squeezer, who is very young.
It was then that I met Squeezer. The beast with the fire in his eyes.
Montage of Scruffums and Squeezer playing. Chasing butterflys, etc.
In the last panel of the montage, narration: From the first minute I met him, I knew that Squeezer
would be the one to kill me.

Exterior, Church, Day:
Narration box: Some folks say that every dog has his day. But like all proverbs, that is a lie.
Zoom in on church steeple, with sound effects of the bell things chiming.
A God. Damned. Lie.
Close up on a floppy eared mutt. The dog looks stupidly happy, despite being the source of the
pessimistic narration.
My name is Scruffums, and what I have seen would drive the strongest to madness.