and she said.. "how you interpret the dream is probably more important than the dream itself"

Dj Truckz-Tank was a solid boy through and through, from his first words as a toddler - "I rules" - to his last camel cigarette. He was the sort of kid you see sitting on the curb eating a slice of pizza but you immediately like him anyway. He was the sort of kid who had bums asking him if he needed some money, and was he okay - even though he was completely fine. He was the sort of kid who you would still call a kid even though he was 27 years old. In short, he was alright.

Dj lived on the fourth floor of an old wharehouse with his minature schnauzer named Fifi. The girls came and went but Fifi was a standard and so Dj loved that dog like he loved his mother - inately. He was even the one to give his good friend the idea to start Schnauzerware.com - the first, original & most comprehensive Internet resource for people with Giant, Miniature & Standard Schnauzers. In the mornings Fifi would wake him up by snorting around in his bed and licking his face. At night the dog would lay on the end of the bed with his paws crossed and stare at larry king live with intensive interest. During the day he would stand on his hind legs, peaking over the windowsile, looking for Dj to return home. He was a smart dog.

Dj Truckz-Tank was a bit of a loner for somebody with so many friends. He spent large amounts of time by himself reading comics, writing letters to his senator, and generally feeling bad for the third world. He thought the X-Men were contrived, Spiderman was silly, and Batman was brilliant. He disliked the idea of gun control, was all for banning smoking in bars, and believed whole-heartedly in the possibility of a new world order of hydrogen efficiency. He was not really an activist, more like a concerned citizen - a rarity in a nation of french fries and movie popcorn.

When he was younger he used to live in the suburbs with his parents. He was an only child but his street was full of kids and he spent most of his days playing in a big gully out behind his house with his neighbour Jim. Somewhere along the line Jim faded out, a victum of the conflict in the middle east - not so much because he died but because he was sucked into the military machine never to be seen or heard from again. But Dj was okay with that. Faces that faded into and out of his life were a common theme and he worked well with change - something most people have more of a hard time with - so when he moved into the city at the age of 17 to persue a career as a rock DJ the transition was minimal.

He quickly made new friends - the pizza guy, the girl that worked in the coffee shop down the street, the cute waitress at Clive's - and so when Fifi showed up it was like icing on the cake. One of life's sweet little candies you suck on after dinner with a smile on your face. At first it seemed as though he was a stray when he first showed up outside Dj's door. He found him sniffing around some garbage cans looking a bit ragged and grimey, and so he let him in and shared a pork chop with him. When he was still around the next day he took a picture with his digital camera and made a poster which he put up on the telephone pool outside his building. "FOUND: Minature Schnauzer that likes Pork Chops. If this is your dog, ring #410" - below a snapshot of Fifi on the couch, lying on his back, with his paws sticking up - very much looking like greek royalty.

"I dunno, I think it makes you look fat." Dj mused and Fifi just grunted at him.

A few days later an old man showed up and claimed the dog and Dj shook his hand and sent him on his way so he was surprised a year later when a woman - probably about 35 - showed up with a small boy and a big paper bag. They rang the doorbell early on a tuesday morning and he ran down the four flights of stairs in his boxers and 2 days beard stubble. When he swung the door open the woman stepped back and the boy looked at him quizzically with large round eyes. They were wet.

The woman explained to him that her father had died - the old man whose dog he had found - and that he left the dog to Dj in his will. "Here," she said, passing over the paper bag, "is the dog." Fifi stuck his head out of the bag, his ear stuck under one of the handles making him look lopsided, and sniffed the air. "Oh, well.. uh." Dj didn't really know what to say. "Okay, I guess. Thank you."

The boy was visibly crying now and so he asked what his name was "Billy," the woman said before the boy could answer, "He's my son. He is upset that we can't keep the dog." She, however, didn't seem to be upset at all. "Oh, well it was your father's dog.. by all means, I think you should take it." Dj said to her. "No no," she sighed, as if she had expected this, "We're not allowed pets in our apartment building. It's better this way." Dj thought for a moment and then looked down at the boy again. "I'll tell you what, Billy," he said, "What you say you come by whenever you want and walk your dog, how would that be?" Billy perked up and his eyes brightened and he said "really?" "Sure, why the heck not?" Dj said, and looked at the boy's mother to see if this suggestion went over well with her. She didn't seem to mind one way or the other. "Okay then, then it's settled. #410.. Anytime you want".

And that's how it came to be that Dj Truckz-Tank and little Billy Rollins became pretty damn good friends - along with the dog too - which I have yet to explain how a he dog ended up with the somewhat effeminate name of Fifi, but that's a story for another volume.