Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A bright orange sky rested above the shimmering waters of Adventure Bay. The rising morning sun peeked from behind the horizon and painted a glowing trail across the surface. Its warmth melted across the morning, and the inhabitants of the aforementioned town began to wake up with a start.

The sun smiled upon a tall, shiny Lookout tower. Concrete rose from the paved surroundings, crowned with a glass observatory with a ruby roof and yellow periscope, and a silver slide wrapping down from it. At its feet, six metallic puphouses sat, each with their own color schemes. From left to right: red, yellow, green, orange, pink, and blue.

These were no ordinary puphouses, for in them resided the six mighty members of the PAW Patrol; Adventure Bay’s rescue task force.

 

From the metallic garage-style door of the orange puphouse, a small Chocolate Labrador stretched downward-dog-style with a yawn. Smacking his lips, the pup slowly trotted out of his black rubber-lined puphouse doorway.

This was Zuma, a five-year-old Chocolate Labrador and the PAW Patrol’s resident aquatic pup. Whenever there was a problem beneath the waves, Zuma was always there to save the day!

Well… he was there to save the day. However lately, it seems that he’s been used less and less. Whenever Ryder—the leader of the PAW Patrol—called the pups to the Lookout, Zuma always excitedly donned his orange uniform and helmet on the platform elevator, hoping to be able to save the day… only for Ryder to choose a more “charismatic” pup like Chase, or Marshall, or Skye, or Rubble instead. And so, he sighed in resignation as he was left at the Lookout, while the other pups had more fun than him.

He did have Rocky, who also was not used that frequently, and the two shared a kinship in that fact. However, the gray mongrel preferred to spend his time secluded in his green puphouse, tinkering with whatever project he was working on. This left the poor Chocolate Lab alone.

 

Despite this, he had a heart of gold. Zuma greeted every day with a smile, and his chill, surfer-dude personality kept him cool through even the loneliest of days. Besides, today of all days was no day to be mopey! Today was the day the mobile aquarium was coming to town! Zuma hoped to be among the first to feast his eyes upon the tropical fish from oceans afar.

 

And so, he trotted slowly out of his black rubber-lined doorway to face the rising sun against the bay waters which he loved so. It was still fairly early in the morning, and most of the Patrol was still asleep. This was no matter, he’d been alone before. Besides, the sky was his favorite color (orange!) and he was hoping to catch some early-morning waves on his windsurfer. So, he leaped with a smile to the top of his puphouse and barked a command.

 

“Waff! Hovewcwaft!”

 

At this, pieces of the orange puphouse began to shift on their own, clicking into new places and extending into other areas. Two mouse-ear propellers sprung up at its back and the puphouse had transformed into a fully-functioning hovercraft. The cheerful Labrador smiled as he pressed a green button, and he began to drive the vehicle down the driveway to the little beach under the Adventure Bay Bridge.

It wasn’t the biggest area—the more popular beach lined the Bay on the other side of the bridge. However, Zuma liked it; it was his own sanctuary by the sea.

The Lab hopped down onto the soft, golden sand and marched towards the back of his hovercraft, in between his seat and the propellers. There, an ajar trapdoor trunk held an orange surfboard with a sail. Zuma’s tail wagged as he eagerly bit onto the side, and pulled it out onto the sand.

As he pointed it towards the water, he took a deep breath, and his excited little heart pounded in anticipation.

His eyes narrowed at the sunrise-speckled water and a determined smirk cracked across his chocolate face.

 

“Alwight, let’s wide some waves!” he backed away slowly, hoping for a running start. “Weady… set… get wet!” He howled excitedly as he began galloping across the sand to his windsurfer.

He was almost there. One final leap and…

 

The orange shield-shaped anchor tag on his navy-blue collar buzzed and flashed, distracting Zuma and sending him tumbling along the sand, accidentally pushing his windsurfer out to sea.

 

The sanded pup looked up with annoyedly lidded eyes and sighed. “Wydew needs us…”

 

Now, Zuma loved his job at the PAW Patrol, don’t get him wrong. However, his collar signaling meant he had no time to retrieve his drifting windsurfer in the bay. With a frustrated sigh, the Chocolate Labrador hopped back into his hovercraft and drove off.

 

As the wind blew his floppy ears like flags, Zuma took some deep breaths.

 

“It’s just my windsuwfew! I could get it aftew the wescue!” These mantras always kept him cool-headed and maintained his laid-back perception.

 

The Labrador parked his hovercraft into its designated space and leaped out, galloping towards the glass doors. By now, the five other pups were awake and were doing the same. As the Chocolate Labrador, English Bulldog, Gray Mongrel, German Shepherd, and Cockapoo filed onto the yellow platform elevator, a clumsy Dalmatian stumbled haphazardly into the glass doors.

 

“Look out!” The remaining pups shouted, bracing themselves for impact.

 

The tumbling Dalmatian bounced around the elevator tube like a pinball before finally crashing straight into Zuma, sending the rest of the pups falling like bowling pins.

 

Zuma’s eyes opened to find himself at the bottom, sandwiched between the hard floor of the elevator and the weights of his fellow Patrol members, with Marshall’s behind sitting straight on the Lab’s head.

 

“Heh, sorry! Guess this time was a stumble-through!” Marshall cheekily commented.

 

As the rest of the pups laughed uproariously, Zuma could only utter a sarcastic chuckle. More often than not, it was he who faced the business ends of Marshall’s elevator antics. As the elevator began its ascent, the pups scattered into their line, and Zuma stretched his legs from being under all that weight.

 

The elevator took a pit stop in a dark room. Here was the pups’ locker room, where they changed into their uniforms. It was fairly simple, with most of the zippers and velcro being modified for their paws. As Zuma approached his box locker and stepped into the legholes of his uniform vest, he couldn’t help but sigh a bit.

 

Why am I doing this? he thought to himself. I’m just gonna be left behind again…

 

Once he heard his thoughts in full, his eyes widened in shock and he shook his head like an Etch-A-Sketch to clear his mind.

 

What am I thinking? I’m a pawt of the PAW Patwol! No job is too big, no pup is too small! He reaffirmed his place on the team as he zipped up his vest with a newfound determination and pushed his helmet onto his head before taking his place back in the line, and the elevator ascended once more.

The platform dinged to a stop at the sunny observatory surrounded by big, glass windows. The pups all leaped forward and sat in a uniform line, with the blue-uniformed Chase stomping his paw in salute.

 

“PAW Patrol, ready for action, Ryder, sir!” he barks.

The human boy, in his signature tricolored jacket vest, tapped on his PupPad, illuminating the screen behind him. “Thank you pups for coming so early! I’m afraid we’ve an emergency!”

“What is it, Ryder?” The underbitten Bulldog whimpered.

 

The hazelnut-haired boy taps his PupPad again, displaying an animated illustration of a truck with an icon of a fish—an image which made Zuma gasp quietly and his tail begin to wag.

 

“The Mobile Aquarium that’s coming to Adventure Bay is in trouble! The transport truck carrying the tropical fish toppled over the bridge! And all the fish swam away!”

“Oh, no!” Zuma gulped. The thing he’d been anticipating for the past month seemed to have slipped beneath the waves. His golden eyes beaded nervously as his little mind began to race. Suddenly a more pleasant thought drifted across his conscience. He could be the one to save all the fish and get them back in their tank, being a hero and being able to enjoy the exhibit with a new sense of glory! So, the Chocolate Lab sat eagerly, waiting for Ryder to call his name.

 

Ryder tapped on his PupPad, lighting the screen up pink. “Skye, I’m going to need your hook to help fly the truck out of the Bay!”

“Let’s take to the skies!” The pink-uniformed Cockapoo performs an aerial backflip in excitement, meanwhile, Zuma still waits excitedly for his own name to be called.

The screen lights up red. “Marshall, I’ll need your medical supplies to check the driver for injuries!”

“Ready for a red-hot rescue!” the Dalmatian barks happily, while Zuma’s smile descends a bit.

The screen lights up green. “Rocky, I’ll need you and your truck to help fix the truck!”

“Green means go!” the mongrel cheers. Now, Zuma’s chocolate eyebrows wilt and he gulps.

 

“And finally…” Ryder’s pale finger hovered over the pup pad, with Zuma’s heart pounding faster in his chest. He couldn’t bear the suspense! He closed his eyes and waited to hear his name.

 

As he heard his owner tap on the PupPad, he opened his eyes expecting to see the screen illuminated orange!

However, all he saw was a deep blue.

 

“Chase! I’ll need you and your spy gear to help track down the fish!”

 

Zuma’s face dropped and his mouth hung agape.

 

“Chase is on the case!” he shouts.

As Zuma stares at the ground in shock, Ryder pumps his fist in the air. “PAW Patrol is on a roll!”

 

The pups (minus Zuma) all howled in excitement as the pups who were called began happily sliding down the silver slide, leaving Zuma and Rubble alone.

 

The Chocolate Labrador blinked, for that was all he could do. He was still processing how he wasn’t used for an incredibly water-based rescue.

He knew he hadn’t been the most used pup by a longshot, but this was just too much. A black fog began to encroach his mind.

 

They left me… I’m the watew pup! This is a watew wescue! I should’ve been called! his lips tightened as he began to spiral. But no! You gotta have Chase instead! Because Chase is sooooo good at evewything! And-

 

“You good, Zuma?” A voice called, snapping the water pup from his spiraling. The caramel-and-white Bulldog stood in front of him with big, innocent, hazel eyes.

“H-Huh?” Zuma blinked a bit, recollecting himself. “Yeah, I’m good, dude…!”

“I’m gonna go watch Apollo! Wanna come with?”

As Zuma stared into the big, smiley eyes of his fellow Patrol-member left behind, his ire abided. “Yeah! Let’s go!”

 

The two pups howled as they ran back into the elevator, and they were taken down to the lobby.

 

Rubble trotted onward with an innocent smile on his face towards the widescreen television on the back wall of the lobby, while Zuma’s paws dragged slowly behind.

 

The bulldog turned back and saw his friend’s chin scraping the ground. “You okay, Zuma?”

Zuma looked up. “Yeah, I’m alwight…”

Rubble frowned. “Are you sad about not being able to rescue the little fishies?” At this, Zuma said nothing, blushing at how stupid his reason for being annoyed sounded out loud. “That’s okay! We’re both left behind!”

“I guess you’we wight…” Zuma looks up to face his optimistic compadre.

“Come! Let’s watch Apollo together! And maybe we can go see the fishies later once they’re saved!”

“Yeah! You awe wight!” Zuma’s tail begins wagging anew as he cheerfully gallops with Rubble towards the pillows in front of the screen.

 

The two lie down on their bellies as Rubble boops his nose onto the remote, lighting the screen with an animated Bull Terrier in a red mask and cape.

 

“Welcome back to Apollo: The Super-Pup!” The deep-voiced narrator began.

“Y’see, Zuma! Being home alone has its benefits!” Rubble smiles, his bottom canines rising from his underbite like stalagmites.

“Yeah! Especially with a fwiend!” Zuma grins. The two focus their wonder-filled eyes on the colorful screen before them.

 

“On today’s episode, Apollo will be-” The narrator continued… before being cut off by a monotoned static.

“Huh?” The two pups tilt their heads in confusion as to the phenomenon in front of them.

 

Suddenly, the screen changes, displaying the face of Ryder, calling from his PupPad. “Rubble! We need you! Skye’s trying to pull the truck out from the Bay, but it’s stuck on a sandbar!”

“Rubble on the double!” he cheers, the screen turning off. As the Bulldog turns to run to his rig, he meets the eyes of his Labrador friend, whose mouth is agape in shock once more. Rubble nervously giggles. “Erm… heheh… I-I’ll be back soon!”

 

As the sliding glass doors hiss shut, Zuma is left entirely alone in the Lookout. Zuma could hear his own heart beating in the stale silence.

 

Now, he truly was alone. The black fog that had once clouded his mind began to roll in again, and his thoughts began to take him down another spiral.

 

A watew wescue… A watew wescue whewe they use all of the pups except fow the watew pup… Am… Am I weally that unuseful? Zuma’s eyes begin to gloss and his lip quivers. M-Maybe thewe’s a weason why they’ve been using me less and less… M-Maybe… I don’t belong hewe…!

 

Zuma solemnly flops back into the pillow he was lying on and buries his face into it. Zuma, the typically chill, happy-go-lucky, and athletic pup was now wallowing in a dark, quiet room by himself.

Through the fog of his unfamiliar feeling, a memory sailed in. The memory of his lost windsurfer. He could use this time not being used to go fetch it. However; the pup looked up with teary eyes, and couldn’t bring himself to do it. He simply sobbed into the pillow, tears staining the fabric, with no one around to comfort him…

 

The sun traversed across the sky until it was about three-quarters through its day cycle, and the first hints of sunset began to peek over the horizon. No matter how much it shone upon the Lookout, Zuma felt like he was in perpetual darkness. After his tears (finally) dried out, Zuma simply rested his weary eyes on the pillow, wasting the day away. Occasionally, he peered his squinted eyes up at the black screen, hoping the warm face of Ryder would appear and invite him to save the day.

However, that moment never came. The haunting darkness still gazed upon the Chocolate Labrador in disappointment, and Zuma simply huffed into the pillow once more.

 

As he lay there like a sea slug, he heard the sliding doors hiss open, and he lifted his head to see what it was.

There, he sees Rocky and Marshall, running, giggling, and having a much better time than he was. The two gallop over to the Labrador blanketed in shadow.

 

“Zuma! Let’s go!” Rocky cheers, clearly not noticing the depressèd state his friend is in.

“Huh? What is it?” Zuma groans, wiping his tears with his paw.

“It was amazing!” Marshall began. “Chase used his spy drone to look for the fish! Then, he used his net to gather them all! It was so cool!”

 

As the Dalmatian yapped, each new element stabbed Zuma in the heart, and his frown grew deeper.

 

“Anyways!” Marshall continues as if nothing happened. “The exhibit is ready! C’mon, let’s go see it before it goes away!”

 

The Lab stared at his two cheery-eyed friends, wondering if they were aware of the plight he’d gone through. Zuma stands on his paws and utters “Yeah, okay! Let’s go!”

 

Zuma’s tail begins to start up again like an old machine. He was certainly still down about being left behind on a water rescue. But hey! This was the moment he’d been waiting so long for! The dark clouds in his mind began to blow away and he became newly invigorated with excitement as the three gallop out of the Lookout.

The three pups run across the bridge, down the road, around the corner at Katie’s, and down Main Street to the Town Hall, where a large crowd was gathered around a large glass tank with clear blue water. Inside, multicolored fish of varying sizes all swam about, impressing the audience to “ooh”s and “ahh”s.

 

The three pups run into the crowd. Since Marshall and Rocky had been there before, they took their places back in front of the crowd. However, Zuma found himself trapped behind a barricade of legs. He winced as he did his best to weave himself through the forest. However, he remained trapped with no view of the tank. He leaped up, standing upon his hind legs and swaying, attempting to keep his balance. However, all he was met with was people’s backs.

He let out a frustrated groan as he sat defeatedly onto the stonebricked plaza. Around him, he heard the gasps and cheers from onlookers surrounding him, imagining that they were having much more fun than him.

Suddenly, he heard a voice booming over a microphone. His ears perked up, he could recognize that voice anywhere.

 

Mayor Goodway’s voice traveled among the crowd. “Thank you very much for visiting our town! Now, we must say goodbye to the exhibit!” She cheekily chuckles behind her hand. “Buh-bye!”

 

The crowd erupts into uproarious applause as Zuma hears the motor of the truck begin to rumble, and he hears it get fainter and fainter.

 

No… No!! his mind toiled. He sat up and pushed himself through the army of onlookers, hoping to at least catch a little glimpse of the aquarium tank before it left.

 

He finally busted through to the other side, stumbling onto the sidewalk. He shakes his head and stands up, peering towards the road.

 

However, all he saw was a truck, now too far away to tell what was inside…

 

The crowd dispersed happily, meanwhile, Zuma’s jaw hit the ground in shock. His golden eyes beaded in intense thought as he felt a now-familiar black fog cloud his mind, and a new sensation of a pit in his stomach tie itself into a knot.

 

“Hey, Zuma!” Ryder says cheerfully. “That was some exhibit, huh?”

The Chocolate Lab gulps, muttering under his breath. “Yeah, I’m suwe it was…”

“You’re all good pups for helping to save it! Without you, no one would’ve been able to enjoy it!” He chuckles, hardly even acknowledging the Chocolate Lab at his feet. “Especially Chase! Chase, you prove yourself again and again!”

 

The five pups surrounding Zuma all erupt into cheer. However, noise around him begins to grow muffled as his paws sink into the pavement, hoping to hold on from another spiraling incident.

 

“Let’s go home! The sun seems to be doing that!” The human boy chuckles as he swipes his arm, guiding the pups back to the Lookout. Zuma stands up, his eyes still wide from shock, and he slumps behind the rest of the Patrol back down Main Street to the Lookout.

 

As the dark, night sky surrounded the Lookout, the pups were inside, each gnawing haughtily at a bone in their respective color. Chase’s incisors clopped along the rough surface of his blue bone while Skye brought her pink bone back to her molars. All the pups seemed to be thoroughly enjoying their bones… except for one.

 

Zuma lies on his front with disappointedly half-lidded eyes, lightly licking the surface of his orange bone, and not much making a dent into it.

As Rocky is about to perform a massive chomp onto his green bone, he hears a melancholy sigh coming from behind him. Turning his head, he sees his chocolate-furred friend moping about his bone. His own eyebrows droop as he carefully trots over to the Labrador.

 

“Zuma…?” Rocky whimpers. “You okay?”

Zuma sighs again, a great shock to the mongrel, who (up until now) has known Zuma as the happiest, chillest pup around. “Can I just talk for a bit… ovew thewe…?” Zuma nods towards the far end of the lobby, far from all the others.

“O-Okay…” Rocky nervously smiles. Zuma stands up and the two walk to the back of the room. “What’s up, Zuma?”

“Hey, Wocky…?” Zuma’s voice remains a low whisper. “D’ya evew feel like you’we… not good enough?”

“Huh? What do you mean?” The innocent gray mongrel tilts his head, his sole floppy ear dangling.

“I mean… you do see how Wydew’s been using me less ‘n less fow wescues, wight?”

“Yeah…?” Rocky’s eyes peer up in thought. “M-Maybe there just hasn’t been a rescue lately where you were needed!”

Zuma’s golden eyes stare flatly at Rocky. “Wocky, dude, today was litewally a watew wescue… and Wydew used evewyone except me!” he pouts. Zuma is not complaining angrily. He’s sad. Genuinely sad.

“Yeah…” Rocky gulps, unsure of what to say next.

“Sometimes… sometimes I think the PAW Patwol doesn’t need me—like, they’d be bettew off without me…”

“What?!” Rocky yelps. “Zuma! Don’t say that-!”

Zuma quickly shushes his friend. “I just wanna twy something…”

“O…Okay?” Rocky winces, unsure of where this is going.

Zuma sighs. “Do you still have those little micwophones? Ya know, the weally little spy ones you took from Humdingew?”

Rocky’s gray face lights up and his tail begins to wag. “Of course I still have them! Don’t lose it, reuse it! Why’d you wanna know?”

“Well… I have an idea, and I want you to help me, okay?” Zuma gazes up at Rocky with pure, honest eyes.

“Okay…” Rocky’s lip stifles its quivering. “What did you have in mind?”

“Tonight, you and I awe gonna attach those li’l micwophone dudes to the back of ouw puptags. Then tomowwow, I’m gonna just hide out in my puphouse, and we’ll see if they weally notice I’m gone.”

“Wh-What?” Rocky takes a step back. “Of course, they’ll notice! And if not, I’ll just tell them you’re-”

“Wocky, please!” Zuma hardly ever raised his voice. So this was a moment of pure emotion that left Rocky stunned. Zuma gulps guiltily. “Please, Wocky… Just… I wanna see if they notice…”

Rocky sighs in resignation. “Okay… Come on, let’s go attach the mics.”

“Thanks, dude…” Zuma stands up and walks in-tandem with Rocky. “You’we a weally good fwiend…”

“Thanks, so are you…” Rocky stares down at the asphalt as the two walk outside and around the base of the Lookout until they reach Rocky’s green puphouse. Rocky marches in and pulls out a similarly-colored toolbox. He digs around with his snout until “Aha!” he finds them: Two little wireless microphones. He gently picks them up in his teeth and sets them on the ground. “Are you sure you wanna do this?”

“Yeah, Wocky, I’m suwe…” Zuma notices his friend’s glum expression. “If it makes you feel any bettew, this is only a test! I pwomise I won’t do anything dwastic.”

Rocky sniffles. “Okay. Let me see your puptag.”

 

Zuma marched closer to Rocky, lifting his head to reveal his puptag.

 

Rocky turns his head to his puppack. “Ruff, pincer!” he commands. At this, an orange-boomed tool arm extends from a trapdoor in his puppack. Rocky sifts through his toolbox with the arm until he finds a spool of masking tape. The arm tears off a little piece and applies it to the little microphone. The arm then picks up both and Rocky gazes at his best friend once more. “Alright, here goes…”

 

The arm carefully moves itself closer and closer to Zuma’s orange-anchored puptag. The arm gently flips it up to reveal its metallic backing and gently adheres the taped mic to it.

 

“Alright, your mic’s in place!” A faint smile grows across Rocky’s face. “Just a test, right?”

“Yup!” Zuma smiles toothily. “Now, I’ll do youws!”

“Okay! Just be careful! These are delicate mics!”

 

Zuma gently tears off a piece of tape with his teeth and gently applies it to the back of the remaining microphone. Then, the Labrador gently picks it up with his teeth and uses his paw (an action that caused a light blush to grow across Rocky’s uplifted face) to flip the green puptag and apply the microphone to the back.

 

“Thewe! Now we’we both mic’d up!” Zuma chuckles faintly.

“Alright, we’ll see how this goes tomorrow…” Rocky smiles nervously.

 

The hiss of the automatic doors was heard once more, and Ryder was seen approaching them in the darkness.

 

“Rocky? Zuma? What are you two doing out here by yourselves?”

“Erm- We were just… erm-”

“Getting an eawly stawt fow bed! Yeah!” Zuma saved Rocky. The Chocolate Labrador stands up and begins marching away from the mongrel, around the Lookout to his own puphouse. He shouts one last time. “‘Night, Wocky, dude!”

 

Rocky gulps back. “G-G’night, Zuma… See you… not tomorrow…?” he mutters the last bit under his breath as he solemnly treads back into his green puphouse for the night…

Chapter Text

Between the four shady walls of the metallic orange puphouse, a Chocolate Labrador stirred in the sailor-esque rope hammock he slept in every night.

Zuma was known both among his team and throughout Adventure Bay as an incredibly happy and cheerful pup. He faced even the hardest problems with his bright, toothy smile and signature laid-back attitude.

Today, however, he had to drag himself out of his hammock with half-lidded eyes. The events of the previous day still tolled upon his tender heart, and he just needed some alone time.

His silver garage-style door remained shut, keeping out any sunlight. He didn’t know what time it was, nor did he care.

 

With a sigh, Zuma reached his paw to touch the back of his anchor-clad puptag. “Wocky? Come in, Wocky. Can you heaw me?”

A quiet buzz of static droned from the microphone attached to the back before the quiet voice of his gray-furred best friend spoke back. “Zuma! You’re awake! It’s already half-past ten!” The mongrel was outside in the shadow of a tree, while Marshall, Rubble, Chase, and Skye played with a colorful beach ball in the sun-warmed grass. Zuma loved beachballs.

“Yeah…” Zuma groaned. “Wemembew ouw plan?”

Rocky’s gulp sounded through the microphone. “Are you really sure you want to do this? I’m sure we could talk things through with-”

“I know.” Zuma sighed, cutting Rocky off. “I don’t weally know how I feel. I think I just need some me-time.”

“Alright.” Rocky gently whimpered.

Zuma’s expressive brows drooped as he heard his friend’s wails. “Look, dude. I’m still the same old me! I just need some time to think, alwight? I pwomise I’m fine!”

“Whatever you say, Zuma…!” the gray mongrel sniffed. “I’ll be sure to tell you if they talk about you!”

“Thanks, Wocky! You’we a weally gweat fwiend.” Zuma smiled before tapping the back of his puptag again, ending his end of the transmission.

 

“Zuma…? Zuma?” Rocky, still behind the tree, looked down at his green puptag. However, no more responses came.

 

Instead, the colorful beach ball bounced right in front of him, and a little Cockapoo pup was trotting happily to retrieve it.

 

As Skye jogged towards the tree to retrieve the ball, she spotted Rocky standing in its shade. “Oh, hey, Rocky! What’cha doin’ over here?”

“Oh! Uhh… nothing really! Just… getting some shade!” The mongrel grinned awkwardly.

“Wanna play ball with us?” Skye tilts her head, her contagious smile spreading its warmth onto Rocky’s gray muzzle.

“...Yeah! I’ll play!” The two pups gallop cheerfully through the grass toward the rest of the pups.

 

This’ll help me not think about Zuma…! Rocky thought to himself. He’ll be fine! He’s a real tough pup! Besides, the others are bound to notice him missing!

And so Rocky, ball at his paws, saunters with Skye over to the remaining pups.

 

Well… minus one, of course.

 

“This’ll be fun!” Rubble howls.

“Yeah!” Marshall nods. “Though another player means another way for me to drop the ball!”

“Oh, Marshall!” Chase laughs with the rest of the pups.

 

Back in the confines of his orange puphouse, Zuma hears the static laughter of the pups through the microphone on the back of his puptag. He hears all the fun they’re having without him—like they don’t even notice his absence.

As he solemnly stared down at his puptag, it began to buzz and glow orange.

 

“PAW Patrol, to the Lookout!” The familiar voice of Ryder calls through.

 

Zuma instinctively shot up. “Wydew needs-!” He suddenly stopped himself. A strange tightness lingered in his chest as he hesitantly sat back down. “Not me…”

The Chocolate Lab had never ignored a call from Ryder; the very thought of such a reprehensible act made his paws tremble. It was his duty, after all, to help whenever the time was needed. The loyal pup kneaded his paws nervously on the floor. He felt terribly guilty about ignoring the call.

However, the thoughts that spiraled in his head were interrupted by the faint sound of an elevator hissing upwards from outside his puphouse. It was too late now.

After the iconic paw-printed shield logo of the PAW Patrol flashed in front of the Lookout, the elevator continued its ascent, with five pups all dressed in their color-coded uniforms. On the platform stood the line of pups: Marshall, Rubble, Rocky, Chase, and Skye. All five stood shoulder-to-shoulder, with the first two leaving no room between them, as if no one ever existed between them.

 

When it reached the top, the five pups leaped out of the chamber and seated in an orderly line in front of their PupPad-holding owner. “PAW Patrol, ready for action, Ryder, sir!” Chase stamps his paw in salute.

“Glad you all could make it, pups! I-” Ryder abruptly stopped his announcement.” Something seems off…”

“Huh?” Skye peered to her left and right. “I dunno, Ryder… but as long as we’re all here!”

 

From his reclusion in his puphouse, Zuma, through the microphone attached to the back of his puptag, heard everything and continues to hear everything. His golden irises gently beaded as he listened to the effects of his absence and how cheery everybody seemed to be.

 

“Yeah…” The hazelnut-haired boy shook his head to rid himself of any doubt. “As I was saying, we’ve a big mission today!” He taps his PupPad, illuminating the screen behind him. “Mayor Goodway wants to build a boardwalk along the beach of Adventure Bay!”

 

The beach. Zuma loved the beach. His heart mildly fluttered in his aching chest as he sniffled, listening to the cheers of all the pups through his puptag.

 

“Marshall! I’ll need you and your ladder to help set up stands and fixtures!”

“I’m fired up!” The Dalmatian shouts with a smile.

“Rubble! I’ll need you and your rig to help clear some sand for the boards!”

“Rubbe on the double!” The bulldog smirks.

“Rocky! I’ll need you and your truck to help with any repairs! Also, your toolbox could come in handy!”

 

However, Rocky’s answer was delayed. Have none of them seriously noticed Zuma missing? he thinks to himself.

 

“Uh… Rocky? You okay?” Ryder raises a concerned brow.

“Uh- G-Green means go-!!” Rocky sputters.

“...Chase!” Ryder continues. “I’ll need you and your gear to help guide cars and pedestrians away from the beaches!”

“Chase is on the case!” The German Shepherd nods.

“And Skye! I’ll need you and your helicopter to bring supplies in from the lumber yard! Plus, you may have to keep away some pesky seagulls!”

“Well, as long as they’re not eagles!” Skye giggles as she finishes “This pup’s gotta fly!” with her signature backflip.

 

And in the darkness of his puphouse, a Chocolate Labrador waits in anticipation for his own name to be called.

 

“Alright! PAW Patrol is on a roll!”

 

He shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up.

 

As he rests his chin on the backs of his paws, he feels his surroundings moving. The pups are going down the slide, and the puphouses are revolving around the Lookout Tower orderly.

 

“Huh… it’s weiwd feeling it fwom the inside…” Zuma comments to himself, hoping to brighten his already bleak day.

 

As he heard the screeches of the PAW Patrol’s vehicles grow fainter into the distance, the Chocolate Lab released a long, heavy sigh.

The coast was clear. He can come out now.

 

But right now, Zuma felt like he was chained inside his puphouse. He couldn’t bring himself to even go outside. A strange heaviness weighed upon the poor pup like a ball-and-chain. And so, Zuma just lay there, helpless and softly whining.

 

He didn’t know how long he sat there, lying in the dark. Every time he felt a stirring to stand up, his thoughts pushed him back down.

He hated this. He hated feeling lazy. He hated feeling ignored while everyone else was out having more fun than him. All of this hate bubbled between his eyes, and a tear teetering between anger and sadness ran down his reddened cheeks.

 

As the Chocolate Labrador wallowed in his own self-pity, the sound of muffled footsteps from outside his puphouse startled his ears up and alert. Zuma cocked the one closer to his door, trying to discern who could be outside the Lookout.

The distinct 2/2 time-signatured footsteps meant that it was not a fellow pup approaching; rather, it was a human.

 

For just a moment, Zuma’s heart fluttered. Maybe, just maybe, Ryder had remembered him, and he had come back!

 

Finally, after hours of lying in sorrow, Zuma slowly stood up on all four paws. With a shaky smile slowly growing across his face, he approaches his closed door and whimpers “Ryder…?”

 

However, the high-pitched voice outside unknowingly responded. “Ryder?”

 

It was Katie. Zuma couldn’t see it, but she was carrying a big bag of bone-shaped pup treats in her arms. As her pink sandals clopped against the pavement, she called out again. “Ryder? Are you here?”

 

Zuma’s smile remained frozen on his face. Not because he was happy, but because no facial expression could convey what exactly he was feeling. As his now-sad smile locked onto his face, the corners twitched.

 

“I’m just gonna leave this right here!” Katie shouts to the air, setting the heavy bag of treats down with a thump! “See ya around!” She smiles as she skips away from the Lookout, unaware of the torment happening in the only remaining puphouse at the base.

 

Zuma’s slow, solemn breathing slowly grew quicker through his gritted teeth, and he couldn’t help more tears streaming down his face. As they reached the bottom of his cheeks, his face finally broke from his crazed smile, and he lay back down on the floor and buried his face into his chocolate-colored paws.

 

“Wh-Why does no one notice me??” Zuma sobbed uncontrollably, being only broken by intervals of sniffling. “P-Please someone notice me!!”

Zuma cried and cried and cried and cried, the whites surrounding his golden-colored eyes now red and bloodshot. He continued to bawl. “W-Wydew-!! Please! Come back! P-Please, come back!” All of his emotions were now bared within the confines of his four puphouse walls. “Please! Come back! Hug me! Tell me evewything’ll be alwight-!!”

 

These last words were buried within Zuma’s paws, as his back rose and fell with his sobs.

After what felt like a terrible, terrible eternity, Zuma’s eyes had nothing left to give. He was all cried out, and he just continued to lie in his dark puphouse.

 

“I was wight… no one noticed me…” He sniffed. “I- If I was gone, no one would cawe…”

 

As Zuma rested his chin on his paws, more hours passed. Yet, the usually-active Chocolate Labrador sat perfectly still—maybe if he stayed so, he might actually disappear.

However, his wallowing was interrupted by the faint sounds of laughter approaching the base of the Lookout.

“Ryder! That was awesome!” The voice of a Dalmatian barked happily. “The boardwalk is so much fun!”

“Yeah!” squealed a Cockapoo. “The fireworks were so pretty over the shoreline!”

“My favorite part was all the yummy boardwalk snacks!” A Bulldog chuckled.

“You were amazing today!” A human’s voice sounded. “You’re all good pups!”

 

‘You’re all good pups’. This phrase is what lulled Zuma to sleep most nights; knowing he made the world around him a better place, and he was a part of a team that cared for him.

However, after Ryder said this in his absence, Zuma realized… he was never included.

 

“Alright! You pups should head to bed now! A whole new day of rescuing is just around the corner! Thanks for being such a great team!”

 

As Zuma feels the puphouses around him lock into place after they’ve been parked, he hears the sounds of his fellow pups all happily howling to the night as they take their places inside, the sounds of metal garage-style doors coming from them.

As Zuma contemplated, the more his thoughts dwelt on him. He was never valued on the team. He was hardly a member of the team at all. The sadness and anger that had docked in his heart had combined into an emotion the Labrador had never felt before: angst. With this new feeling in his chest, his brows furrowed with an idea.

 

If no one noticed he was gone, then they never would. He had to run away, and he had to do it now.

 

Zuma stood with a huff. After making sure that everyone was tucked away in their puphouses (or in Ryder’s case, at the top of the Lookout Tower), Zuma carefully pulled up his puphouse door, finally seeing the outside for the first time that day. The dark night sky was nothing unlike the darkness Zuma had spent all day in. After a final glance up at the stars, Zuma leaped to the top of his puphouse.

 

“Waff, hovewcwaft…” Zuma whispered. And at this command, his orange puphouse began to clank and transformed, with the Labrador wincing at the noise.

 

Thankfully, no one noticed his noise… as always. Before long, puphouse was now an orange hovercraft with black padding and gray accents. Zuma hopped into the seat.

 

One deep breath later, he pressed on the green ‘Go’ button and drove away from the Lookout for the last time…