Otarlo

   I dew a blank at first and while trying to think, I started thinking about the name of your boy and thought it was rather fitting for his appearance. I decided to play with the letters a bit, thinking it would be neat if their names were similar, and came up with Otarlo; pronounced "ah-tar-low" with a short "o".
   Nicknames include Arlo, Tarlo, O'Tar and just Lo. I have a habit of giving my characters nicknames, even if their name is already fairly short. I think it's endearing to call a character by a name other than that which is given, almost like...we're closer than standing on formality. Silly I know, but that's me.


   Even thought the two are only technically half brothers, sharing only one parent, they grew up together and have been inseparable until now. If you saw one, it could be guaranteed the other was not far behind. Tarlo has never cared that they aren't fully related, despite what others may have thought - Arlotto has been, is and will always be, his brother. Simple as that.
---Otarlo has always been the strategist, often thinking three steps ahead. Lotto has always been good with the ladies, both human and canine, and that has come in quite handy many a time; in a way, it gives Tarlo one less thing to think about - Lotto is always predictable if there is a female around.
   Otarlo and Arlotto have a blast terrorizing public places and playing minor pranks. They usually have two motives - just for kicks or to get food abandoned in the chaos. Even though they are no longer strays on the streets, both dogs love getting together and reminiscing about the "old times" of these escapades. Needless to say, they often get into trouble "for old times sake" along the way.
   Sometimes it feels like he's always having to pull Lotto out of some kind of trouble or another. While it can get on his nerves at times, Tarlo knows it's just a part of who his brother is and he wouldn't change a thing. Occasionally Arlotto regrets when he's lied and cheated to get what he wanted at the time and Tarlo does his best to console or distract his brother from these depressing thoughts.


The Origins of Some Scars:
           A short story
   "Hey O'Tar! I hear there's a farm down the road...You up for chasing some chickens?" Arlotto called over his shoulder as he trotted up a small incline in the dirt road.
   "Psshh! You know it!" Tarlo called back with a chuckle.
   The two dogs came up on the farm within ten minutes and stopped at the fence. They looked around to make sure there was no one around to spoil their fun right away, then headed for the tell-tale chicken wire. They crept up behind the coop, eagerly watching all the hens poke about the front half of the yard, completely oblivious to their presence. With a quick not from Arlotto, Tarlo bolted forward. Chaos ensued as the dogs raced around the pen, chasing one screeching foul after another. Finally, the farmer's wife heard the commotion from the kitchen and came out to see the cause. Seeing the two large strays, she began smacking her empty pan with the wooden spoon she had carried out with her.
   "Uh-oh. We gotta jet Arlotto!" Tarlo called and headed for the edge of the pen, sailing over the poor fence with ease. The sound of skittering dirt told him his brother was right behind him. Arlotto took the lead and headed fro the nearest indication of the farm's boarder, a rickety barbed-wire fence. Trusting his brother fully, Tarlo followed without hesitation.
   Being physically smaller, Arlotto had no problem darting through the oval hole in the wire's uneven lines. Tarlo was less fortunate and cried out when one of the barbs scraped across his muzzle as he scrambled through.
   Arlotto glanced over his shoulder at the cry, "C'mon! We can't stop here!" He said urgently, his every instinct telling him to keep running. "Can you run?" He asked.
   Tarlo nodded, barley able to see through the pain he followed mostly on his other senses.
   Once they were a safe distance away, Arlotto gingerly cleaned the wound as best as he could, "You'll be fine, but it'll scar." He said once he's finished.
   Tarlo grinned, "Good. Adds some character. Shows how tough I am." He said haughtily, standing tall in an overly-exaggerated show of pride. They both burst out laughing heartily.
   The two strays trotted into the deserted ally; humans tended to throw their unwanted leftovers into the dark expanse rather than hold onto it until they could find a trash can. There was a hap-hazard chain link fence, on one end and few dumpsters sat helter-skelter along the the buildings. Newspapers and other trash littered the ground making it interesting to look for food; Tarlo especially liked the challenge this presented. As soon as he'd turned the corner, he put his nose to the ground and quickly found a reward. He slurped up a french fry he'd found under a work-out pamphlet, earning a mildly irritated scowl from Arlotto; Tarlo made a face in return. Arlotto rolled his eyes and headed further into the ally, hoping for an easier find; Tarlo followed behind at a slower pace, still sniffing the ground.
   Just behind one of the dumpsters on the right-hand side, there was a crumpled sleeping bag and other items indicating someone likely "lived" there. Arlotto wagged his tail, making a dull repetitive thump against the side of the metal container, as he helped himself to the partially-filled take-out bags. Hearing the commotion, Tarlo trotted over, eager to see what his brother had found, and quickly joined his feast. They had nearly depleted the stash when an angry shout made them both jump. Tarlo backed up a step and peered around the corner of the dumpster to see a man in ragged clothes standing at the entrance to the ally.
   "Hey! That's my food you filthy mutts! Get outta here!" He shouted, raising a hand that clutched an empty glass soda bottle.
   Arlotto and Tarlo shared a glance before they bolted for the other end of the ally, both thoroughly enjoying their situation. The man chased after them as far as his bed then threw the empty bottle, hoping it would detour the strays from coming back. The bottle sailed through the air with a soft hum and collided with the corner of a sturdy wooden crate as Tarlo ran by. The impact shattered the glass and the momentum sent the shards flying, two of which glanced off of Tarlo's shoulder as he passed. He grimaced but didn't falter and reached the fence a few strides later. He stopped to allow his brother to crawl through the gap where the chain link had been detached from the brick, and followed after him.
   "That looks like it hurts." Arlotto commented once they were safely away from the ally and had stopped to catch their breath.
   Tarlo shrugged and glanced toward the sting, "Nah, not really. Can barely feel it." He said lightly, then broke out laughing, "Did you see the look on that guys face?!"