Meet the Characters who make up the world of Alveridge.

Lonely Dog, Dog Art

Lonely Dog

Arthur Snout, better known as Lonely Dog, is orphan who grew up on the working-class side of Port Alveridge. As he discovered the blues, gritty barbed-wire blues, leaking from the clubs and honky-tonk bars, music became his lifeline and his destiny.

Bullied and misunderstood, Lonely Dog was hounded from town and became a refugee in his own country. Some called him a troubadour, others a troublemaker, but all he cared about was the guitar on his back and his one true love. It is said Lonely Dog’s songs became legends long before he did, but he caught up and the whole world listened.

Lonely Dog is represented in over 40 paintings, in drawings, book illustrations and sculptures. He is pictured as a child as well as an adult in different outfits, with different accessories (ie sunglasses, guitars etc) and with different expressions.

Lonely Dog, Dog Art

Rolph Flannegan

Rolph personally tutored Arthur Stout in the manly art of playing the 5 string Alveridgean Guitar. He is now over 80 years old and is often found at the local pub (Marvo’s Bar and Grill) sharing stories of his early influence on Lonely Dog. “His first chords were the ones I taught him! Now that’s an umbilical chord that can’t be broken! He plays guitar now exactly as I showed him then.”

He still lives in the old red-bricked building that housed the Alveridge County Orphanage. Even now it remains impressive, in a Gothic style, despite its current forlorn condition. The orphans have long since vacated the dormitories and the tired old schoolroom hasn’t heard a houndlings laughter in many years. His residence is in one small corner of the rambling building, where he is and always has been a confirmed and committed bachelor.

Celia Crème, cat art

Celia Crème

Celia Crème is a high fashion goddess, (and high fashion is not something hounds have ever aspired to.) Her signature fabric, a sinuous combination of cashmere and silk she calls ‘cashmilk’, can be seen draped over the languorous forms of felines everywhere. Her ravishingly coiffed face appears regularly on the covers of tabloids and magazines and is instantly recognized and admired by all in Catside.

When telling of her association with Lonely Dog, “It was at the orphanage here on Catside, many years ago now, one forgets the exact date, but then one doesn’t like to dwell on those times.” “We became companions, strange as that may seem, a kitterling and a houndling. He was a perfect gentleman even then, so strange for a hound.”

In spite of all the fame and fortune her fashion empire afforded her, Celia Crème still carried in her soul the memory of those barefoot years in the Catside orphanage.

Lonely Dog, Dog art

Bronson Bostony

Bronson is always attired in the Howlers blood-red patch and sporting dark shades no matter what the time of day with houndly aloofness and coolness personified. He stands out in any setting, literally, head and shoulders above all other hounds in Alveridge. He can be seen on any given evening with his biker boy buddies at any one of a number of bars and eateries in the Port.

“Hounds have been riding bikes, cruising the streets, and howling out loud for generations. We set our own time, sleep when we want, eat what we like, and there will never be any law against hounds doing such things in Alveridge now or never! So I say no politician, cat or otherwise, will ever change what was never meant to be changed. You see, we hounds are governed by a higher law the Hound Law!” he beams a full tooth smile, “You could call me the Mayor of the Wild!”

Lonely Dog, Dog art

The Baron of Beaconsfield

The Baron gazes into middle distance with eyes of uncertain focus. Perhaps dreaming of wars he may once have fought, of a glorious history he may have had, or of a lineage that assumes greater importance with every passing day.

With the Baron as sole guardian of all things historical in Alveridgea, the line between reality, imagination and exaggeration is blurred beyond recognition. The medals on his proud chest are not in doubt, but whether he committed the acts that earned them is the subject of many rumors.

Lonely Dog, Dog art

Brother Jeroboam

At over six feet tall, dressed in coal-black, Brother Jeroboam strikes an imposing figure seated in the saddle of his horse, Righteous, or preaching fire and brimstone from the pulpit of his hounds-only Cathedral in Molars Post.

Some folk say he’s the Devil, some folk claim he’s Divine. The tales and myths about him are as tangled as an old Tumblewood Tree.

One thing’s for sure; this mustachioed preacher has spent his grizzled life travelling the highways and by-ways, with saddlebags stuffed with hard tracts and hard liquor, rousing backsliders in far flung hamlets against the abomination of cats! “Vermin-puss!” as he states it.

He keeps coming back, year after year, like the very resurrection itself, preaching Hound freedom and staying true to your hound roots. He clearly sees through the greed, power and control that has been forced upon them by the cats.

He’s a true defender of the faith. Hound Faith.

With a voice as deep as riverbed gravel you’ll hear him growl,
“Now pass the moonshine and let’s sing a hymn or two!”

Lonely Dog, Dog art

Mick the Bass

‘I’m a Trumaine Hound
And I’m Trumaine Proud
True to my Buddies
True to my Sound”’

Mick the Bass cuts a distinctive figure, either onstage with Lonely and the Sunshine Boys, or leaping from the pages of the Catside Fashion Magazines.

Born in Trumaine, Mick bears the distinctive black and white markings peculiar to hounds who inhabit that remote part of the world.

It’s that kind of remote aloofness that gives him his cool, chic stage persona. Onstage with his Trummer Bass slung low from the shoulder of his full-length green velveteen coat, and shod in his staggeringly chunky platform shoes, he’s the powerhouse of the band.

He surveys the audience from behind his trademark square framed glasses and winks at the swooning houndettes and cats! Mick’s throbbing beat will continue to set hearts throbbing wherever this stylish shoes will take him.

Lonely Dog, Dog art

A K Ruddegan

If the smoke stacks on the Port Alveridge Fish Cannery are a symbol of Houndish oppression then A K Ruddegan is certainly the epitome of all that is evil and corrupt in Alveridgea.

His full title, as emblazoned in gold plate on his palatial office door, is ‘Mayor & Colonel A K Ruddegan, President & CEO’

Diminutive in statue, but a giant in avarice, A K Ruddegan has eyes of cold obsidian and a bushy moustache carefully manicured by a cut-throat razor he keeps in his waistcoat pocket.

He surveys his corporate kingdom from his seventh floor factory office. Here he plots and schemes the Hounds enslavement, from a richly upholstered scarlet leather armchair whilst spearing goldfish with his manicured claw from a cut crystal bowl, swallowing them whole.

His greed is legendary, his power total. But there’s a Revolution coming down the road that not even Mayor Ruddegan and all his thuggish Tom Cats can stop!

Lonely Dog, Dog art

Bella Bostock

Bella Bostock is the portly Matron of the Houndside County Orphanage. Her kitchen is her kingdom, where shelves groan with her preserves and pickles and the warm glow of the Cracklewood fire dances off the well-scrubbed pots and pans that hang from the rafters.

She has a heart of pure gold, but a tongue like a whack from a wooden spoon! And she needs both to keep the boisterous orphan houndling’s in her big-bosomed care, in line. A kiss here; a clip over the ears there; all served with lashings of hearty Spotty Russock stew, and motherly love. The wee houndlings adore her and fear her in good measure!

Bella, divorced and reaching her frayed prime, still feels the stirrings of love for the curmudgeonly old Orphanage Headmaster, Rolph Flannegan.

Maybe her matronly charms and Crippleberry pie will win him over?

Lonely Dog, Dog art


Kelzie had always been the quiet one. With her soft brown pigtails and limpid eyes she’d always stood apart from the other Houndettes at the Orphanage. And those deep chestnut eyes had fluttered at Lonely Dog from a young age. She and he had always been close, attracted at first through their mutual shyness, they had always felt like more like brother and sister.

But over the years it had bloomed into something much more than filial affection.Maybe it was her moist button nose or her petite slim snout?

Or was it the way she always believed in him – saw greatness where others saw failure?It was for Kelzie that Lonely had written some of his most beautiful love songs;
‘…Like a love Puppet on a string with a heart of wood and glue I gave my soul and my everything just like Momma said to do…’

Lonely Dog, Dog art

Larry Four Trucks

Every small town has its share of characters and none more so than Port Alveridge and Larry Four Trucks.

Perpetually dressed in a garish floral shirt that will give you several migraines, and raggedy old shorts, Larry got his nick-name from a hair-brained idea of his that he could adapt his truck to run on rails! Just so he could put his feet up and sleep while delivering goods!

It wasn’t until he’d wrecked four trucks in this manner that he abandoned the idea – but the moniker stuck.

He is whippet thin with a reedy snout and shifty eyes, and you can always find him down by the Port flogging tatty postcards or dodgey kebabs to unsuspecting tourists.

He still has an old battered pick-up truck which grinds and belches fumes all over town, complete with the ironic signage:-
Larry’s Lorry Service
Specialty Meats, Souvenirs, Postcards and Tobacco
Everywhere on Time

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