He wasn’t always like this...
Before the trench coat and the smell of cheap cigarettes, he was a truly “good boy”.
Young, collar clean, eyes sharp — the kind of dog who still believed truth had weight. 😵‍💫

He started where all good detectives start: listening.
Behind bar counters. Under stage lights. Outside penthouse doors.

Later, he became the one, who could find anything...
Lost trinkets. Lost lovers. Lost dogs. 🔍

But Dogtown doesn’t raise good boys.
It chews them up and spits out whatever survives. 🩸

He saw bribes change paws in quiet hallways.
Saw reports rewritten with clean ink and dirty paws.
Saw the innocent dogs get dragged into cages, just because it's easier. 💸

So he left. 🥃
A resignation letter and the first cheap scotch bottle of many.

Later, he became a private eye.
Same instincts. Less faith.

At its peak, Dogtown was a city that makes you wonder you’re the one holding the leash…
right before it yanks you. 😰