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January rain soaked the world outside; trees shivered in the wind but the slick black asphalt held firm against the feet of night wanderers. Thin layers of ice had formed over puddles in the road as sleet and rain took turns assailing the earth.

Direnegan Fitzgerald tore his gaze away from the window, sighing deeply. The bar was quaint and warm, although nearly empty at the late hour. Only a few souls loitered on the outskirts of the establishment, nursing their beer with sluggish enthusiasm. A pair of tabby cats talked in hushed tones, their striped forms leaning across their table, glancing constantly at a German Sheppard glowering in the corner. The bartender, an old grizzly bear, lazily pulled his rag across the countertop, wiping away the rings of wet residue left behind by countless mugs and glasses.

Direnegan shoved his snout into the glass, swallowing what was left of his beer. This was no place to be on his thirtieth birthday -alone at a bar, listening to the incessant throb of techno music from the adjacent club. He should have been celebrating with friends. Maybe with Leonard and John, his old navy buddies. Perhaps with his family, back in Wisconsin. But certainly not here, with only the faded photograph of his departed fiancé to keep him company. He ran a hand through his thick gray fur, glancing forlornly at his empty mug. "Frank, another round, please."

The bear looked up from his counter, frowning. "Ren, I think you've had enough for tonight. Aren't you driving home?"

He sighed. "I just really need another beer."

Frank shook his head and started towards him. "Ren, you old dog, what is it this time?"

"It's nothing."

The bear pulled out a chair, dragging it over to Direnegan's table. "If you aren't gonna call your folks about it, you better talk to somebody. It don't have to be me."

He sighed again. "It's...my birthday."

Frank cocked his head to one side, brown eyes warm and expectant. "So?"

"I'm thirty."

The bear laughed--it was a deep, booming sound that startled the cats at the next table. The German Shepard had slipped outside; the felines glanced frantically about as if they were being watched. "That's all? Boy, try forty and then we'll talk. You won't be getting any more beer tonight, Ren. The roads are wet and icy in places--you need to be good and awake when driving home."

The dog scowled. "You don't understand, it's...never mind. It isn't important."

"You sure?"

"Forget it." Direnegan paused, glaring at the wall that seemed to be the source of the increasingly loud music. "How long has that club been next door? It's driving me crazy."

"You're telling me!" Frank gestured widely with both arms. "I'm here all day. It's not very active in daylight hours, but at night it's a nightmare. Damn kids, with their electronic music. They never shut up."' "It's...certainly annoying." He glanced again at his empty beer mug, brown eyes closing tiredly. "I should probably head home, Frank."

"That's a good idea. I'll be closing up in about an hour anyways." They both rose to their feet, and shook hands. "Happy birthday, Ren."

"Thanks," Direnegan said tiredly. He shoved the photograph of his fiancé into his back pocket and started towards the door.

The freezing rain seemed to seep straight through to his skin. He hadn't thought to bring a jacket--his thick, gray fur usually protected him from the weather. Direnegan's paws collided with the pavement, claws tapping incessantly against it. He strained his eyes, peering into the gloom of the parking lot. The rain was so heavy he could barely see his paws in front of his face, much less locate his midnight blue Chevy pickup. He swore loudly, and turned back towards the bar.

The wooden exterior of the establishment was barely visible in the gloom, illuminated by a pair of dim lights. At the edge of the light's reach was a strange shape--a bizarre extension of the ground. Direnegan squinted and started towards the figure.

He smelled the other dog before he could visually confirm his presence. The sopping, blond-furred canine had collapsed in front of the bar, the retina-scarring nature of his clothing suggesting he had come from the adjoining nightclub. Direnegan shook his head, setting his sights on the door. He seriously considered leaving the unfortunate drunkard where he lay, but a pitiful groan from the ground convinced him otherwise.

"What happened?" the dog muttered weakly, as Direnegan hoisted him to his paws.

"Beats me. Come on, kid, let's get you inside. It's pouring rain."

The blond's bright green shirt was saturated with water, clinging desperately to his scrawny frame. His half-spiked hair was plastered to his skull; his brown eyes were distant and unfocused. "What happened?" he repeated, stumbling towards the door.

"You must have fallen down, at some point. Too much alcohol, probably." Direnegan pushed the door open, dragging the young dog by the back of his shirt. "Go on, sit down, sit down."

Frank looked up at them, surprised. "Well, look who it is. I thought you left ten minutes ago, you old dog."

"I parked too far away," he confessed. "Couldn't find my car in this weather. I'll wait till the rain calms a bit, if that's all right with you."

"Sure thing." The grizzly glanced at the dripping canine that had collapsed inelegantly into one of his chairs. "Who's the kid?"

"Found him on the ground outside."

"Damn nightclub. Something tells me this is going to be happening more and more frequently as more young folk start going there...before you know it, nobody's gonna want to come to the bar anymore. Too noisy." Frank snorted in disgust. "Damn kids."

The blond dog, whose fur was actually more brown than yellow, seemed to be regaining his senses. "Where...where am I?"

"You're at the bar next to the club. Frank's place."

The young canine furrowed his brow in confusion. "I... don't remember coming here."

"Drugs do a lot to your mind, kid." The bear returned his attention to cleaning the wine glasses, mumbling to himself about the recklessness of the upcoming generation.

The bar was truly empty now. The tabby cats were long gone, leaving only stools askew and empty glasses to clean in their wake. Direnegan reluctantly pulled out a chair in front of the young canine, not particularly caring to talk to Frank anymore. He didn't have much in common with the old grizzly bear, save for their mutual taste in alcohol. Frank was simply too old; although, to be fair, the dog across from him seemed too young. Direnegan was stuck between generations--he was tired of college life, but didn't fit in with the older crowd. He didn't have any children, and hadn't attempted to find someone else after Caroline. His friends all had pups and kits, and here he was, thirty and single.

"So, uh, thanks, or whatever."

Direnegan looked up sharply. "Pardon?"

"I mean, for saving me and all. I'd probably have gotten like, hit by a car, or something." The dog ran a hand through his bedraggled hair, attempting to revive its former spikes. His brow was creased slightly in pain, but all in all he seemed to be doing an exceptional job of holding his alcohol. "I'm Ty, by the way."

"Direnegan."

"Dir-what now?" the crease in his brow deepened.

"Just call me Ren."

"Ren." Ty paused, as if considering the name. "That's much better."

Direnegan shrugged. "I suppose. I didn't exactly get to name myself, but I can't complain."

"I guess you're right."

Direnegan cleared his throat, glancing decidedly in another direction. "Uh...anyways, kid...where you from?"

"I... live around here," Ty replied slowly. "Born and raised in South Carolina, though--I'm a Carolina dog." He gestured to his curiously pointed ears. "A mix, at least. But most dogs are mutts nowadays, I'm not ashamed to admit it." Ty smiled benevolently. "And like, don't call me kid. I'm 22."

"Really?" he asked, suspicious. "You don't have to lie. I have better things to do than turn in underage drinkers."

"Swear to God, I'm 22. I graduated from being a 'kid' when I left the south." Ty's snout creased in a grin. "But enough about me. I'm just a college student--my story isn't very exciting."

Direnegan nodded, eyeing him with interest. He seemed to have a slight accent; but it didn't seem southern. It was very...preppy. How the stereotypical 'gay friend' might sound in a Hollywood film. But it wasn't overpowering--the sound was slight, so Ty's voice was still easy on the ears. "I'm afraid I'm not very interesting either."

"I don't mind," the blond responded. "If we're stuck at a bar in the middle of the night, you might as well attempt to make this a two-way conversation."

Direnegan's pupils suddenly widened. He remembered the rain, and Caroline's photo in his back pocket. It was probably ruined. "Shit," he muttered, leaning forward in his chair.

He pulled the photo out of his pocket. It was flimsy and some of the color was running -it wasn't a very good photograph, but it was still one of his favorites. The pale white saluki was smiling gently, her long white hair ghosting about her like a halo. The ocean was bleeding into the fabric of her lavender dress, soiling the image.

"Shit," he said again.

"What is it?"

"The rain...it messed up a picture of mine."

"I'm sorry."

Direnegan set the photo facedown on the table, frowning deeply. "Never mind. It isn't important."

Ty shrugged. "If you don't want to talk about her, you don't have to."

Direnegan's suppressed a growl, ears flattening against his skull. "How did you know?"

"I didn't," Ty said sheepishly, "but from the way you looked at the picture, I figured it had to be a girl."

He swallowed hard. "She... isn't important. Where were we, again?"

"I was asking where you were from."

"Right. Wisconsin. Well, ethnically Sweden; my grandparents were from there. My family lives right on Lake Superior...I always used to love watching the boats there as a kid." He shook his head. "I'm rambling."

"No, go on," Ty urged.

"I'm a Swedish Elkhound, Jamthund, whatever you want to call it. Purebred."

"That's awesome!" the young dog exclaimed. "Do you like, speak any Swedish?"

"I get that all the time, but not really. More than the average person, I suppose."

"Cool, cool..." Ty glanced down at the table. An uncomfortable silence settled between them.

"So, who is she?" he finally asked. "I mean, you don't have to, but...sorry, I'm just...really curious."

Direnegan glanced over at Frank. The bear seemed to be sleeping--his snout was propped up by a massive paw and his eyes were closed. He turned reluctantly back to Ty. "Her name is Caroline."

Ty leaned back in his chair, satisfied. "Go on."

Direnegan sighed and flipped the picture over, pushing it towards him.

"She's beautiful," Ty exclaimed.

"I know." He pulled the picture back, gazing at her with melancholy affection. "She was."

"What happened to her?"

Direnegan swallowed hard. "She was my fiancé. There was an accident four years ago...she drowned."

"I'm so sorry," Ty gasped, looking at the picture again. "I think I heard about her, though. Four years ago..." he closed his eyes. "Yeah, I was here four years ago. Looking at colleges. I had some friends here in Maine, so I wanted to come here. I remember seeing her story in the newspaper. Caroline Shiri, I think. I might have met her once, actually."

Direnegan's eyes lit up. "You did?"

"Yeah. I don't remember where I've seen her, but she looks familiar." Ty smiled tentatively. "Small world, I guess."

"Small world," Direnegan agreed. "Her name was Caroline Shirazi, actually. Caroline Rose Shirazi. She was...wonderful. I can't help but miss her."

"Losing someone is never easy," Ty consoled. "But why are you here at this bar anyways? It's like, completely dead in this place. You could like, just as easily be missing her at home--no offense intended."

"None taken. I didn't come here to mope about Caroline. I came here because it's my birthday."

"Well, happy birthday!" Ty cheered. "How old are ya?"

Direnegan sighed, ears drooping. He closed his brown eyes wearily, listening to the unrelenting patter of rain on the ground outside. "I'm thirty."

"Wow," the blond said in awe, "the big three-oh. Thirty. I can see why you'd be a little bummed."

"It's bad enough that yesterday is the anniversary of her death," Direnegan muttered dolefully, "but now I'm getting old and I still can't move on."

"That's crazy talk, you aren't getting old!"

"My muzzle is graying," he said sadly.

Ty looked at him incredulously. "You're gray all over, from what I can see. I think you're suffering through an early mid-life crisis. What you need is to get out more, Ren. Trust me. It'll help."

"I'm not a part of your generation." He gestured in the general direction of the nightclub. "I don't belong at the noisy dance parties, looking for women in skimpy dresses. My college time has passed. I'm a man now. I can't just...get out more. It's more complicated than that."

"I've seen men older than you at the clubs," Ty said nonchalantly.

"It's just...I don't want to move on." Direnegan looked up from the table, his expression softening. "I guess I'm still in love with her."

"After four years?" the blond inquired. "Damn, you're a devoted guy, aren't ya?"

Direnegan grunted noncommittally, glancing at the rain-splattered window. A pair of headlights reflected on the glass, and his ears perked up with interest. "Who the hell could that be?" he wondered aloud. "Frank's place isn't even open at this hour..."

"Dunno," Ty offered, yawning wholeheartedly. "They're probably going to the club."

A full three seconds later, a chubby Corgi burst through the doors, grinning ear to ear. A lanky sea gull followed, his wings folded neatly behind his back, absently running a webbed hand through his feathers. Frank suddenly sat up, staring perplexedly at the new arrivals.

"Or not," Ty said, yawning once more.

"John! Leonard!" Direnegan exclaimed, rising to his paws. "What are you guys doing here? It's almost two in the morning!"

"You're asking us! We thought you'd be at home--Lenny and me waited at that house of yours forever, wondering when you were gonna get home. Ever heard of a cell phone, Ren?"

Direnegan grinned. "I guess I never really had a need for one. You guys didn't have to come find me--"

"You're thirty, Ren! We weren't gonna let you spend this day alone!" the Corgi exclaimed. "Although it's the day after your birthday now, if you're gonna be technical about it."

"That's very kind of you, John. But I was honestly going to head home soon--I guess I got sidetracked." Direnegan glanced back at Ty. John followed his gaze and wrinkled his nose like he'd smelled rotten meat. "You know him?" the Corgi asked quietly. Leonard clicked his beak disinterestedly, glancing out the window as if not wanting to get involved.

"Well, I just met him, yeah." Direnegan glanced back at Ty, lowering his voice. "Why, what's wrong with him?"

John sent Ty a scathing glare, nostrils flaring, dark eyes beady and eager. "You're a good Christian man, aren't you, Ren?"

Direnegan paused, taken aback by the question. He had been raised Methodist, but his religious belief had recently deteriorated into some sort of agnosticism. But by the look in John's eyes, 'no' wasn't the answer he was looking for. "I guess so," Direnegan said warily. "Why?"

"He's gay."

Direnegan stared at him blankly. "Um, what?"

"You heard me." John bared his teeth, a growl rising in his throat. "Good thing we came Ren--think, you'd might never even have known."

"Hold up, John--how do you even know he's gay?" Direnegan asked bewilderedly. "Where have you seen him before?"

"Just last week," John whispered harshly. "Saw him snogging with some big wolf faggot outside that club. Makes me sick to my stomach."

"He seemed nice enough to me," Direnegan said smoothly. "I don't have a problem with him, so long as he doesn't try anything on me."

John's jaw hung slightly agape. "Are you kidding, Ren? You'd be friends with a faggot?"

"I don't think you're being fair to him," Direnegan's voice was rising slightly. "You've never talked to him a day in your life."

"They're all the same!" John barked. "Don't you understand? It's ungodly, what he's doing."

"Who's to say what God has anything to do with anything?" Direnegan bellowed. "He didn't save Caroline that day, and I prayed harder during that storm than I ever did in my life!"

Leonard glanced at the pair of them with dark, pensive eyes. "John, I think we should leave. You're upsetting him."

"I'm upsetting him?" The Corgi gaped at his avian counterpart. "Did you just hear what he said to me? Defending that fag!"

"Just be respectful, goddammit!" Direnegan barked. "I'm sick of you picking on everyone and everything you don't agree with. We've been friends for a long time, John, but I can't keep doing this."

"Come on, John. We should go." Leonard extended a hand, grabbing the stout Corgi by the scruff of his neck.

"Lenny, let me go!"

The bird gave Direnegan a sympathetic look. "Happy Birthday, Ren. Sorry about all the ruckus."

And the pair was gone as quickly as they came.

Stunned, Direnegan glanced over at Frank. The bear was frowning at him pointedly. "I never did like that John fellow very much."

"He's okay in small doses."

"He's a bastard," Frank responded simply.

Direnegan turned around, finding the bar completely empty. "Where's Ty?"

"He snuck out while you guys were arguing," Frank said with a yawn. "You need to get home, Ren, and so do I."

His heart sank. "Oh. Well, I guess it can't be helped." He walked slowly over to the table, ears folded back. "I feel bad for him."

"Don't," Frank said curtly. "It isn't your fault."

"I know, I know." A white slip of paper caught his eye -it was folded neatly on the table, barely noticeable in the dim light. He left a note, Direnegan realized.

He hurriedly unfolded the piece of paper and began to read.

Thanks for defending me. You barely know me, so it means a lot. I guess we didn't get to finish talking, so if you want to talk about Caroline, I'll be here to listen. She seemed like a great person, and I think it'd help you to get some things off your chest.

_ _

A number was scrawled at the bottom of the page, and Direnegan's lips tugged upward into a smile.

_ Sincerely, Ty._

_ _

_ P.S. Happy birthday!_

_ _

The rain had stopped outside, and as Direnegan made his way to his dark blue Chevy he continued to smile. Hell, it was a new decade to live--a new start. Maybe thirty wouldn't be so bad.

The dog fumbled with his keys and slid onto his truck's leather driver's seat, glancing at himself in the rearview mirror. He resolved to call Ty in the morning.