All language subtitles for Isle.Of.Dogs.2018.1080p.Blu

Ten centuries ago,
before the Age of Obedience,

free dogs roamed at liberty,
marking their territory.

Seeking to extend
its dominion,

the cat-loving
Kobayashi Dynasty declared war

and descended in force

upon the unwary
four-legged beasts.

On the eve
of total canine annihilation,

a child warrior
sympathetic to the plight

of the besieged underdog dogs

betrayed his species,

beheaded the head of the head
of the Kobayashi clan

and pledged his sword

with the following
battle-cry haiku.

He would later be known

as the Boy Samurai
of Legend, RIP.

At the end
of the bloody dog wars,

the vanquished mongrels
became powerless house-pets:

tamed, mastered, scorned.

But they survived
and multiplied.

The Kobayashis, however,

never forgave
their conquered foe.

The Japanese archipelago,

20 years in the future.

Canine Saturation

has reached
epidemic proportions.

An outbreak of Snout-fever

rips through
the City of Megasaki.

Blizzards of infected fleas,
worms, ticks and lice

menace the citizenship.

Dog-Flu threatens to cross
the species threshold

and enter
the human disease-pool.

In a special midnight-session

at the Municipal Dome,

Mayor Kobayashi
of Uni Prefecture

issues emergency orders

calling for
a hasty quarantine:

the expulsion and containment
of all breeds,

both stray and domesticated.

By official decree,

Trash Island
becomes an exile colony.

The Isle of Dogs.

Respect-o.

It's not fair to the dogs.

The path favored
by Mayor Kobayashi

is cruel and unscientific.

For a thousand years,

these resilient animals
have loved,

served and protected us.

Now, in their time
of greatest need,

we forsake them again?

A tidal-wave
of Anti-Dog hysteria

has crippled
our moral judgment.

Give me six months,
and I will deliver a serum.

I'm this close, dammit.

Dog-Flu will be eradicated.
Snout-fever will be defeated.

Canine Saturation
will be returned

to sustainable levels

and without mass-neutering!

Whatever happened
to man's best friend?

No, no, no!

The crowd is calling
for the immediate ratification

and approval
of the mayor's proposal.

As a
gesture of public solidarity,

Mayor Kobayashi
is calling upon

his Assistant Hatchet-Man,
Major-Domo,

to furnish
the personal bodyguard-dog

of the mayoral-household,

Spots Kobayashi,

into the possession
of the Committee

for Canine Desaturation.

Spots will be the first dog

to be officially deported
from the city.

Six months later.

Nomadic packs
of once-domesticated

house-pets, sick and hungry,

rove the garbage canyons
and filthy ravines,

scrounging for scraps.

One hundred per cent
test positive

for the Dog-Flu germ.

Symptoms:
weight-loss, dizziness,

narcolepsy, insomnia,

and extreme/aggressive
behavior.

Three-quarters display signs
of early-onset Snout-fever:

high-temperature,
low blood-pressure,

acute moodiness

and spasmodic
nasal expiration.

The exiled dog-population
grows weaker, sadder, angrier.

Desperate.

Hey, wait a second.

Before we attack each other
and tear ourselves to shreds

like a pack of maniacs,

let's just open the sack first
and see what's actually in it.

It might not even
be worth the trouble.

- What do you say?
- I'm not sure.

Maybe.

Alright.

A rancid apple core;
two worm-eaten banana peels;

a moldy rice cake;
a dried-up pickle;

tin of sardine bones;
a pile of broken egg-shells;

an old, smushed-up,
rotten gizzard

with maggots all over it...

Okay, it's worth it.

Get out of here
and don't come back.

Sheesh, Igor. I think
he chewed your ear off.

Hmm... Hmm.

I don't think I can stomach
any more of this garbage.

- Same here.
- Words out of my mouth.

I used to sleep
on a lamb's-wool bean-bag

next to
an electric space-heater.

That's my territory.
I'm an indoor dog.

I starred in 22 consecutive
Doggy Chop commercials.

Look at me now.
I couldn't land an audition.

I was the lead mascot

for an undefeated high-school
baseball team.

I lost all my spirit.
I'm depressing.

I only ask
for what I've always had:

a balanced diet,
regular grooming,

and a general physical
once a year.

I think I might give up.

- What, right now?
- Right now.

There's no future
on Trash Island.

You heard the rumor,
right? About Buster.

- Not sure.
- Can you remind me?

Who's Buster?

Uh, my brother
from another litter.

- What happened to him?
- Suicided.

Hanged himself
by his own leash.

- Hmm.
- Oh, boy.

I want my master.

Ah...

You make me sick.

I've seen cats
with more balls than you dogs.

Stop licking your wounds!

You hungry?
Kill something and eat it.

You sick? Take a long nap.

You cold?
Dig a hole in the ground,

crawl into it,
and bury yourself.

But nobody's giving up
around here,

and don't you forget it, ever.

You're Rex!

You're King!

You're Duke!

You're Boss!

I'm Chief.

We're a pack of scary,
indestructible Alpha Dogs.

You're talking like a bunch
of house-broken... pets.

You don't understand.
Uh, how could you? You're a...

Go ahead, say it.
I'm a stray, yeah.

How does she keep
her fur so clean?

There's no shampoo
on Trash Island.

You heard the rumor, right?
About her and Felix.

- What'd they say?
- Felix? No.

- What happened to them?
- They mated.

Ooh.

Who is Felix again?

All the ones I like:
they're never in heat.

Hey, now, that puddle-jumper's
flying crooked.

- Oh, you're right.
- Ease up.

- Pull up.
- He's gonna lose a wing.

Wow.

Part One:
"The Little Pilot."

Small guy.
Not much meat on him.

Yeah, is he dead?

- He looks dead.
- I have a question.

Are we eating him,
or is this a rescue?

We don't know yet.

Nobody's eating
The Little Pilot.

Not even the dead body of him.
Dogs don't eat masters.

You're not our leader.
We all are. Let's take a vote.

All in favor of not eating
The Little Pilot, say "Aye".

- Aye.
- Nay.

First-things-first:

let's open his helmet

so he can breathe
some air if he's alive,

then see if we can pull that

hunk of
broken propeller-clutch

out of the side of his head
if it doesn't kill him.

- Does that sound right?
- Yeah, that's right.

Mmm-hmm.

Spots-u! Spots-u! Spots-u!

We get the idea.

You're looking
for your lost dog, Spots.

- Does anybody know him?
- Hmm. No.

Uh-uh.

Wow.

In response to questions

regarding the purported
disappearance

of his ward Atari,

Mayor Kobayashi offers
no comment

and urges reporters to respect

the privacy of
the mayoral-household.

Atari, aged 12, was last seen
early yesterday morning

rolling a small airplane
onto a runway

at Megasaki Executive Airport.

24 hours later.

I bite.

I beg your pardon.
Ignore that dog.

He's got Snout-fever.

Just please follow us.

Now, I never met him,
but I asked around.

I understand
he made a lot of friends.

He had a very good-natured
temperament, I'm told.

Of course,
you would know best.

It's just a bit further
up here on the left.

Anyway, as I say,
he seemed to have been

an extremely pleasant animal.

Unfortunately, nobody could
figure out

how to open his dog-cage.

Three years earlier.

The sole survivor
of last week's

colossal
bullet-train disaster,

a young boy named Atari,

awoke from a deep-coma
early this morning

to learn
of his parents' tragic deaths

and also the intention

of his distant-uncle,
Mayor Kobayashi,

to personally adopt him

as ward
to the mayoral-household.

Upon his release
from Megasaki General,

Atari who suffered the loss
of his right kidney

and numerous broken bones
in the crash

will live
in sequestered quarters

within the confines
of Brick Mansion,

where he will be educated
in solitude by private tutors.

Atari has also been assigned
a security-detail

for his own protection

in the form of a highly
trained bodyguard-dog

named Spots Kobayashi.

Um, you're my new master.

My name is Spots.
I'm at your service.

I'll be protecting
your welfare and safety

on an ongoing-basis.

In other words: I'm your dog.

Bodyguard-dog! Not pet!

I can hear you,
Master Atari.

I can hear you.

I can hear you.
I can hear you.

Oh, no.

You need a key.

- Where'd you get that?
- What? I always had this.

I stole it
off the dead skeleton.

Oh, no.

Hey! The wrong dog died!

The wrong dog died!

The wrong...
The wrong dog died.

He's not Spots.

Who is that?

I can't smell him.

This is child abuse.

Chief, you fight
the robot-dog.

Wait. What?

King, Duke, Boss? You attack
the three dog-catchers.

- On it.
- I'll guard The Little Pilot.

On my command. Ready?

Wait a second!

I am not gonna fight
this robot!

I'm against The Little Pilot,
remember?

I don't even believe
in masters.

You're the best in a scrap.

We all know that.
You like to fight.

Well, let's take a vote.

All in favor of Chief

fighting the robot-dog,
say "Aye".

- Aye.
- Nay.

Sic 'em.

My ward, Atari,

has been kidnapped
against his will

by a pack of disobedient,
contagious, infected animals.

He will be rescued promptly,
returned to safety,

and grounded for the duration
of his childhood years.

His five dog-abductors

have been identified
through the use

of advanced Tooth-and-Tail
Recognition Software:

They will, of course,
be captured

and violently destroyed.

Chief ought to
get a check-up, too.

He looks worse than anybody.

I wish somebody
spoke his language.

Sit-o!

Well, I understood that.
Sit down.

Sit-o!

Chief! Sit!

I don't sit.

You're disobedient! Sit!

No.

I wouldn't drink that,
if I were you.

It's full of toxic chemicals.

How do you know?

Because my sister-in-law
drank it,

and her tongue turned black.

Oh.

You're Felix's mate.

I beg your pardon?

I mean, I think you mated

with Felix,
if I heard it right?

That's none of your business.

No, no, I don't suggest

whether it actually
happened or not.

I'm just saying
that I recognize you

from when I heard that rumor.

I think I'm going
to say good-night.

Wait, wait, wait. No.

Wait. Start over.
Who cares about Felix?

I'm Chief.
That's my name.

I see.

I'm introducing myself.
Who are you?

I thought you knew
all about me.

No, I don't know anything.

I should've kept
my mouth shut.

It's all hearsay.

Anyway, you're Nutmeg.

So you do know me, after all.

After all? Yes.

You a show-dog, Nutmeg?

I was bred as a show-dog.

I was groomed
for that purpose.

It wasn't my choice.

I don't consider it
my identity.

Anyway, look around.

What difference
does it make now?

So that's a yes.

So that's a:
yes, I used to be.

May I join you?

You've been attacked.

Hmm. What else is new?
You should see the other dog.

Actually,

I think he was made
of stainless-steel.

I couldn't get my teeth
into him.

Who is The Little Pilot?

What'd he do?
Why are they after him?

Nobody knows.

You're a stray, aren't you?

Yes, I'm a stray.

But aren't we all?
In the last analysis, I mean?

Were you trained?
For competition.

I was a show-dog.

- You know a few tricks, then.
- A few.

Can I see one?

Maybe if I get to
know you better.

Fair enough.

It's not true, by the way.

About me and Felix.
For the record.

I wouldn't bring puppies
into this world.

I don't believe in masters.
I never did.

It's against my principles.

But this is no place
for a dog like you.

You belong somewhere.
You've got papers.

Oh, I'm full-grown,
sweetheart.

You don't have to worry
about me.

Good-night.

I hope I'll see you again.

- Here's one.
- One what?

I'm supposed to be spinning
a nine-pound bowling-ball

over my head at this point,

but you just have to
imagine that part.

Oh.

I can picture it.

Will you help him?
The Little Pilot?

Why should I?

Because he's
a 12-year-old boy.

Dogs love those.

Spots, whoever he is,

might be alive,
and he might be dead,

but one thing's for sure:

he's nowhere around here.

He's not in the dog-community.

There's probably another
500 Japanese hectares

of unmapped waste-land

on Trash Island at least.

Where do we start?

Also,
the mental health question:

maybe it's because of that

propeller-clutch stuck
in the side of his head

I can't say, I'm not a doctor,

but I think The Little Pilot's
got a screw loose.

Those are the cons.

You heard the rumor, right?
About The Little Pilot.

- Which rumor?
- What is that?

Kobayashi is
his distant uncle.

He's the mayor's ward.

- What?
- Whoa.

Be that as it may,
let's look at the pros.

That boy flew here, all alone,

and crash-landed
onto this island

for one reason;
one reason only:

to find his dog.

To the best of my knowledge,
no other master,

not one single human master,

has made any effort
to do that.

They've forgotten
all about us.

I propose we start tomorrow,
first-light.

We'll cross
the Middle Fingers.

We'll find the tugboat
on the Dune.

We'll go see Jupiter
and Oracle.

They'll know what to do.

Let's take a vote.
All in favor say "Aye".

- Aye.
- Nay.

Who's the nay-sayer?

- Him.
- Me.

That kid is gonna get us all
put to sleep. Euthanized.

We won't find the dog,

but we will die trying.

Not a bad way to go.
You're out-voted, anyway.

Science-Party Candidate

Professor Watanabe

has been placed
under house-arrest today

at Toho Mountain Ryokan

after offering sharp criticism
last night

of the
Kobayashi Administration's

Canine Saturation-Crisis
policy:

Foreign-exchange
student Walker.

Thank you, Editor Hiroshi.

You all know me.
I speak my mind,

and sometimes
that ruffles some feathers.

Please, forgive my bluntness.

Mayor Kobayashi is a crook,
and I hate him.

Right now,
he faces a divided congress

during a hotly-contested
re-election year.

Dogs are dying
on a miserable island.

Gullible masters
have been brainwashed.

The Science-Party Candidate
is being held against his will

with no recourse
to legal counsel.

Somebody is up to something.

You have
a conspiracy theory?

I have a hunch.

I don't print hunch.

Huh?

I'll spell it out.

I believe
Municipal Dome propaganda

has deliberately stoked
irrational, Anti-Dog fear

and suppressed a medically
proven Dog-Flu treatment

in order to promote
a secret campaign

to turn the country against
its innocent house-pets.

There. I said it.

Can you prove it?

I don't know.

To tell you the truth:
I don't know.

I've lost all of my pride

I've been to paradise
and out the other side

Part Two:
"The Search for Spots."

With no one to guide me

Torn apart by a fiery wheel
inside me

An untouched diamond

That's golden and brilliant
without illumination

Your mouth's a constellation

The stars are in your eyes

I'll take a spaceship
and try and go and find you

The Middle Fingers
of Trash Island

wind and weave up-river,

inter-stitched
by zig-zagging pipe-lines

and rusty viaducts.

The ruins of
a failed utility-complex

washed-out by tsunami.

The rubble of an abandoned
power-plant

demolished by earthquake.

The remains of a deserted
industrial estate

destroyed by volcanic blast.

I won't hurt you
I won't hurt you

I won't hurt you
I won't hurt you

The Old Trash Island
Athletic Club,

member-less
and long-forgotten.

Okay, I got a question.
What's your favorite food?

A double-portion
of Doggy Chop from the can

mixed into a bowl
of broken Puppy Snaps

with a vitamin
crushed up into it.

King's the spokes-dog
for that.

He's the Doggy Chop dog.

Mmm. Used to be.

Was that
your daily meal?

Not always. My master
was a school-teacher.

We weren't rich,
you know. You?

A center-cut Kobe
rib-eye, seared,

on the bone,
with salt and pepper.

Wow.

It was my birthday
supper. Every year.

Mine's hot-sausage,
yakitori-style.

The snack vendor always
saved me one on game-days.

- Hmm. Duke?
- Ah, green-tea ice cream.

My master had a sweet-tooth.

I probably inherited it
from her.

You heard the rumor, right?
About Doggy Chop.

- Remind us again.
- What rumor?

- Oh, they folded.
- Oh, no.

Doggy... Doggy Chop folded?

How about you, Chief?
What was your favorite food?

Me? Oh, I don't care.

Garbage, trash,
scraps of rubbish.

- I'm used to left-overs.
- Hmm.

Yeah, yeah.

Of course,
I wasn't always a stray.

Wait. What'd you say?

I said I wasn't always
a stray.

- Really? Since when?
- Tell us about that.

I've been hunted by
dog-catchers all my life.

I'm not easy to trap.

I've only got three captures
on my record

where I actually got sent
to the pound, I mean,

and the first two times,
I escaped within 24 hours,

but the third time...

I got adopted before I could

finish digging
the break-out-tunnel.

It was a big family.

Five kids.
Two other dogs, already.

They stuck me
in the back of a station-wagon

and drove me out
to the middle of the sticks.

Grass, trees, swimming pool.
Cartoons on TV.

Anyway, one morning
a week later,

the youngest boy,
his name was Toshiro,

woke me up at 6:15,
bright-eyed, wide-awake,

and he tried to pet me.

He didn't mean anything by it.
He was just being friendly.

Apparently, I bit him so hard,
I nearly chewed his hand off.

Blood all over
the kitchen floor.

They rushed him
to the emergency room

and I got pad-locked out

in the tool-shed
with the lights out.

It gave me some time to think.

What happened?
Why did I do that?

To this day, I have no idea.

I guess he scared me.

I bite.

That night, an old woman,

she must've been
the grandmother

brought me out a bowl of some
homemade hibachi-chili.

I like to think she cooked it

for me,
personally -but who knows?

Maybe it was just
more left-overs. But...

You've got a tick.

Anyway, that's my favorite
food I ever ate.

The old woman made
a great bowl of chili.

What happened after that?

I dug my way out by morning,

jumped on the back
of a dump-truck,

and hitched back to Megasaki.

I was always a street-dog,
let's face it.

Somebody's stalking us.

As you know, we all hate dogs.

Chairman Fujimoto-san,

President of
Kobayashi Pharmaceutical.

You secretly introduced

mega-quantities
of infected fleas

and contagious tick-larvae

into a metropolitan
city center,

creating an unprecedented
animal-disease out-break.

Thank you.

General Yamatachi-san,

Commander of the Megasaki
Municipal Task force.

You oversaw the deportation
of over 750,000 caged-animals

to a nearly uninhabitable
off-shore refuse-center.

Good work.

Supervisor Kitano-san,

Director
of Kobayashi Robotics.

You developed the most
promising artificial life-form

in the history
of corporate-technology-

and a powerful new weapon,
to boot.

Well done.

Yakuza Nakamura-san,

Head of
the Clenched-Fist Gang.

You eliminated
all Pro-Dog opposition

through the use of bribery,

extortion, intimidation,
and violent force.

My compliments.

Brains have been washed.
Wheels have been greased.

Fear has been mongered.

Now we prepare
for the final stage

of our conspiracy-theory:

the permanent end

to the Canine
Saturation-Crisis.

We believe we've
recovered a viable DNA sample

from this article
of damaged aviation equipment.

We're going to check it
right now

if you care to observe.

We call upon
dog-lovers everywhere

to harken
to this transmission:

May-day! May-day!

Unscheduled Junior Turbo-Prop

in severe distress
over Sapporo River.

Engine-failure, and-

- detachment of left wing.

Will attempt emergency-landing
on Trash Island coast.

Please, make note
of the following:

to my security-detail /
bodyguard-dog,

Spots Kobayashi,
if still living,

I leave
all my worldly possessions.

If Spots has preceded me
into the next life,

I ask that everything,

including my own bones
and Spots' carcass,

be burned
in a crematory furnace,

with our ashes scattered
to the four-winds.

It will not amount to much
pollution in this sad land.

If I survive,
ignore this message.

I've gone to find my dog.

Young masters
of Megasaki: unite!

Turpentine brandy.

It cools the head
and warms the dog-bones.

It may snow tonight.

Really? Thank you
very much. Wow.

To whom it may concern.

- She sees the future.
- No.

She understands T.V.

You seek a dog named Spots.

- Dog-Zero.
- Dog-Zero.

As you know, most of
the animals on this island

come from human homes

with domesticated
back-grounds.

However, a small population
of savage, aboriginal dogs

have been scavenging

the Metropolitan
Dumping-Grounds

for nearly a decade.

The graffiti on this wall
depicts the story.

They were born into captivity
on the ends of the fringes

of the most distant reaches
of the island.

They endured
great suffering and cruelty

at the hands
of their former masters.

Finally, in the wake of
an Act of God, they escaped-

to a harsh
and desperate freedom.

Some say they died away
over the subsequent years,

starving and forgotten.

Some say they swam
to the mainland,

but this seems unlikely.
Too far to dog-paddle.

Some say
they're still with us,

in the Far-away Cuticles,
beyond the Middle Fingers.

We know the animal you seek.

He has appeared
in Oracle's visions.

A prophecy suggests itself:

Spots, if he's alive,
may very well be living,

even at this moment,
as a captive prisoner

abducted into the company
of these wild, savage dogs.

Oracle, what do you think?

What?

Continue your journey.
Have faith in your cause.

Luck and good fortune
be unto you.

You heard the rumor, right?
About these aboriginal dogs.

- Remind me again.
- What's the rumor?

Uh, they're cannibals.

So you're telling me they're
going to want to eat us?

Well, they're cannibals.

We're approaching
the end of Old Trash Island.

To the west: the Sapporo River
and Megasaki City.

To the east: the open-sea.

To the north: a long, rickety

cause-way
over a noxious sludge-marsh

leading to
a radio-active land-fill

polluted by toxic
chemical-garbage.

- That's our destination.
- Great.

- Got it.
- Get ready to jump.

Atari, I'm going to drag you
overboard with my teeth,

since you can't understand
the plan.

After that,
we're back on foot.

The next stage...

Where'd they...

Where'd they go?

What are they doing
over there?

How did this happen?

What's going on
with this contraption?

If we get separated,
which we are:

rendez-vous at the cause-way!

- You're not our leader!
- What?

You're not our leader!
We all are!

Let's take a vote!

All in favor of my plan,

which is to rendez-vous
at the cause-way...

Let's go.

No, you can't ride
the Pagoda-Slide.

You're below the safety-limit,
anyway. Let's go.

We made an emergency plan,

even if we didn't get to vote
and agree to it yet:

rendez-vous at the cause-way
to the Far-away Cuticles,

and go find your dog.

Maybe everybody else
just got crushed,

compacted, and incinerated-

but we're going to be there.
Let's go.

Don't.

Repeat:

don't.

I am not your pet.
I never liked you.

I don't care about you.
I won't wait for you.

I bite.

Good luck.

Jerks. Come here.
Oh, do this. Do that.

Our Masters. I'll do what I...

Hmm...

I suppose
if it was working right,

we'd be dead already.

Don't ask me
to fetch that stick.

Fetch-i!

Fetch-i!

I'm telling you:
I don't fetch.

Fetch-i!

I'm not doing this
because you commanded me to.

I'm doing it-
because I feel sorry for you.

Good boy.

Where'd you get that dog?

He looks like me
with a pink nose.

I come from a nine-dog litter,
but they drowned the sisters.

We're not a rare breed:

short-haired-Oceanic-
speckled-ear/

sport-hound-mix.

I'm getting confused now.

My belly feels funny.

Biscuit-o.

I can't accept that.
It's for your dog.

I've never been offered
a Puppy Snap in my life.

I don't even know
what they taste like.

Okay, I'll try it.

Crunchy. Salty.

Supposedly, it cleans
your teeth.

This is my new favorite food.

Thank you.

My pale blue star

My rainbow, how good it is
to know you're like me

Strike me with your lightning

Bring me down
and bury me with ashes

I won't hurt you
I won't hurt you

I won't hurt you
I won't hurt you

Cold up here tonight.

We'll find him.

Wherever he is, if he's alive:
we'll find your dog.

I won't hurt you
I won't hurt you

I won't hurt you
I won't hurt you

I won't hurt you
I won't hurt you

Mayor Kobayashi,

elected leader
of Megasaki City.

For 150 years,
you and your ancestors,

known as
the Kobayashi Dynasty,

a procession of
dog-hating thugs,

stooges, felons,
and their criminal underlings,

have betrayed and deceived
the citizens

of Uni Prefecture.

You make me so mad!

Professor Watanabe,

Science-Party Candidate,
deceased.

The wasabi in your blood
showed poison-levels

in excess of ten times
the maximum dosage required

to stop the heart of a whale.

Why'd you do it?

Atari Kobayashi, adopted ward
to the mayoral-household.

You heroically hi-jacked
a Junior Turbo-Prop XJ750

and flew it to the island...

Atari.

You heroically,
as I was saying,

stole the little airplane,
because of your dog and...

I lost my train of thought.

Dammit!

I've got a crush on you.

Part Three:
"The Rendez-Vous."

Rex! King! Duke! Boss!
You made it!

- What happened to you?
- I took a bath.

- What? He's got soap?
- Just a little.

You're too fluffy.

- We played fetch.
- With a stick?

With a hunk
of rubber radiator-tubing.

And you brought it back
to him?

Yeah.

He's a good boy.

Don't you tell me that!

I'm the one
that tried to make you

be loyal to him,
in the first place.

Stop. Stop!
This is the rendezvous.

Where's that trash-tram
taking you?

You think we booked this ride
through a travel agent?

We were fighting for our lives

in a high-velocity
trash-processor

while you were getting
scrubbed and brushed.

- Jump!
- Where?

- Here!
- When?

- Now!
- Why?

- What?
- Let's take a vote.

All in favor of jump...

Who's that?

I can't smell him.

Come in.

Master Atari...
Can you hear me?

Huh?

That dog's real.

What's that thing
in your ear for?

Are you hard of hearing?

You can't be. Um...

Bodyguard-dogs have to have
20/30-Auditory

just to be certified.

No, the ear-piece
is how I receive

my commands and instructions
and so on.

Obviously, I'm privy to
certain sensitive information

due to my position
in the mayoral-household

at Brick Mansion.

Oh, so you mean

somebody could be talking
to you right now?

Well, the range is only about
75 feet or so, I guess, so...

Battery's probably dead,
anyway.

I got a question for you.

How much money
do you think the mayor makes?

I can't tell you that.

That's highly confidential.

Um, anyway, I'm not
the mayor's accountant's dog.

That's Butterscotch,

and she got crushed

in a glass compactor
the day before yesterday.

No, my duties
are, uh, focused entirely

on the protection
of the mayor's ward, Atari.

I'm not supposed
to be his friend,

but I love him very much,

but that's a private matter.

Um, the only reason
I even said that

was because we're all probably
going to die out here

and I'll never see him again.

That's a tough break.

Well, good luck to you

and watch out
for the cannibal-dogs.

- Hmm?
- Hmm?

- What?
- What?

- Watch out for the...?
- The cannibal-dogs.

- They are dogs that eat dogs.
- Start over and repeat again.

You know what?
Don't even worry about that.

I just heard there might be

some wild, aboriginal,
cannibal-dogs

in the area, you know,

but I wouldn't worry
because you're

in an extra-security
lock cell.

Look at it that way.

You're probably safer
than I am.

Except from thirst
and starvation.

It's got an extra-security
lock on it.

You'll never get it open.

Are you going to eat me now?

What did you say?

Are you going to eat me now?

I heard
you were cannibal-dogs.

Be notified: I'll be compelled
to defend myself

with all means at my disposal.

Hmm.

Who told you that dirty lie?

We resorted to cannibalism
on one occasion,

many months ago,

as a desperate
survival instinct.

We ate one single dog.

His name was Fuzzball,

and he was the leader
of our pack,

and he was already in a coma
from starvation,

so we put him out of his...
his...

His misery and...

And...

Consumed him.

We would have dropped dead
in a week or less

without that nourishment.

We were dying.
Do you judge us for that?

Shame on you!

We only brought you here

in the first place
to help you.

We've got a Master Pass-Key!

Open his cage.

Fuzzball was his best friend.

Oh, dear.
Uh, I think I offended him.

I'm truly sorry.
I had no idea.

What is this place?
How long have you been here?

I can see
you've been mistreated.

Are you okay?

My name is Spots.
Spots Kobayashi.

How can I be of service
to you?

Master Atari-san,
can you hear me?

Can you hear me, Master Atari?

Spots-u?

You're not safe here!

You shouldn't have
come for me!

I can't
protect you efficiently

under these conditions!

Spots-u!

Here I come.

Sic-'em!

Follow me!

All in favor of kicking
Chief out of the pack

and never speaking
to him again, say "Aye".

Aye!

- How did you do that?
- Secret tooth! Military issue!

Technically, I could do it
37 more times,

but I wouldn't be able
to chew my meat!

I assume you're Spots!
We've been looking for you.

Master Atari-san,

I swore an oath when I assumed
the responsibilities

of official bodyguard-dog
to the mayoral-household!

I could never be persuaded
to break that vow

for any reason whatsoever!

I'll always be loyal to you

as my only
and unconditional master!

But circumstances
have radically changed for me

and all the pets
of Megasaki City!

I have new obligations
which I never anticipated!

I've become the leader
of a tribe of outcasts

who depend on me
for their survival,

and I'm going to be a father!

With deepest sadness
and humility:

I must ask you to relieve me
of the duties of my position,

effective immediately.

You son of a bitch.

If we don't drown, I'm going
to strangle you myself.

I don't care
how many exploding teeth

you try to spit-out at me.

Do you have any idea

what that Little Pilot
just went through

to try to rescue you?

How dare you?

- You're a stray.
- Yeah, so what?

What's your name?

Who cares?

You're from central Megasaki.
I can tell by the accent.

You're a short-haired-Oceanic-
speckle-ear/sport-hound-mix.

You were born in a storm-sewer

on Bamboo-shoot Holiday
six years ago today.

Do you know me?

I... I don't... I don't know.

I'm your older brother
by five minutes.

It's been a long time, Chief.

Was... Was I the runt?

Not anymore.

Security-camera footage

confirms initial-reports

of the deaths of mayoral-ward
Atari Kobayashi

and his five dog-abductors
this afternoon

in a sluice channel

at the threshold
of the Far-Away Cuticles.

A statement from Major-Domo,
live at Brick Mansion:

The life
of a promising young orphan

has been cut short
before its prime.

This is a distant-uncle's
worst nightmare.

Mayor Kobayashi asks for your
prayers, your condolences

and your support
for the diligent men and women

of the Municipal Task Force
Dog-Catchers Division:

we salute you for your bravery
and your ongoing commitment

to the continuing punishment
of all bad-dogs.

Originally,
before the volcano erupted

and an earthquake
triggered the tsunami

which obliterated
the facility,

there were over 250

incarcerated animals
here on the premises

being experimented on
against their will.

If you look closely, you may
notice some of these dogs

still bear scars and markings
from the research and abuse.

Actually, it's pretty obvious.

This is my mate, Peppermint.

She's pregnant
with our first litter.

She was due a week ago.

Anyway,

the survivors of the disaster
learned to cultiv...

What's he got there?
What's he got there?

Biscuit-o. Biscuit-o.
Biscuit-o.

Puppy Snaps.

I heard they don't even
make them anymore.

You heard the rumor, right?

About Kobayashi
Pharmaceutical.

- I never heard it.
- What rumor?

They invented Dog-Flu.

- No.
- Of course.

That makes sense.

Where do you get
all these rumors?

I mean,
who tells them to you?

I don't know. Anybody.

Dogs talk, and I listen.
Always have.

I, uh, love gossip.

Spots!

The black owl has a message.

He's come from all the way
across the island.

Get him a cup
of sewer-water, Chico.

Mmm-hmm.

Mmm-hmm.

Yes. We understand.

He has news from the
Metropolitan Dumping-Grounds.

- Metropolitan...
- Shh! Quiet, please.

We're listening, owl.
Tell us your message.

He's going to poison us.

Re-election Night:

at the moment Mayor Kobayashi
is re-inaugurated,

he'll give the order,

and the extermination-process
will begin.

Oracle saw the plan
in her visions.

If the voters choose me again

on Re-Election Night,

I promise:
a final and permanent end

to the Canine
Saturation-Crisis.

Every pet in the
Trash Island Camp will die.

It may be too late, already;

but, if the black owl
reaches you

with this message in time:

Go to Megasaki City.
Find our masters.

Appeal to the people.
Stop the mayor.

Save us.

We're crossing
the river tonight.

Begin preparations
immediately.

You'll meet a bitch
named Nutmeg.

Tell her Chief says:
I'll see you in Megasaki.

Hmm.

Beautiful night.

- Peppermint's in labor.
- Oh.

Come sit beside me.

It's okay.

Master Atari, are you willing
to accept my brother Chief

as new bodyguard-dog
in personal service to you,

former ward
to the mayoral-household?

Chief, are you willing
to accept

Atari as your direct master,

to serve and protect
his safety and welfare

with all courage, loyalty
and friendship?

I can do that.

Good.

Chocolate milk, cold.

Tracy Walker, Megasaki
Senior High, Daily-Manifesto.

Are you Professor Watanabe's

former Assistant-Scientist,
Yoko-ono-san?

Do I have it?

Too late.

Do I have it?

Too late.

Nobody care.

Do I have it?
Do I have the story?

Yes or no? On the record!

I am sorry for your loss,

but we both know:
that was no suicide!

I need to prove
my conspiracy-theory!

Ben is dead.
No future on Trash Island.

I am failure.

Pull yourself together
and act like a scientist!

Professor Watanabe
never gave up.

Is this... Is this the serum?

The Dog-Flu cure?
The Snout-fever treatment?

The end of the Canine
Saturation-Crisis?

Last dose.

Tracy:

be careful.

Part Four:
"Atari's Lantern."

Not fair!

To dogs!

- Not fair!
- To dogs!

- Not fair!
- To dogs!

There will never be a place
for Dog-Flu in Megasaki City.

There will never be room

for Snout-fever
in Uni Prefecture.

The time has come to put
the violent, intimidating,

unsanitary bad-dogs
of Trash Island

humanely to sleep.

For their own good;
and also: ours.

General Yamatachi?
Bring out the replacement-pet.

Sit-o!

The results are in!

Stand by for the incoming
Re-Election Night tally!

That crook!
He's stealing

the re-election again!
Let's go!

This landslide re-election
is a massive fraud,

and we demand a re-count!

Respect-o.

The mayor is allowing

the unauthorized
Pro-Dog student-protestors

a platform to voice
their dissenting beliefs!

Mayor Kobayashi
has dog's-blood

on his hands! You all do!

Atari was a hero.

Professor Watanabe
was murdered.

The serum works!

The mayor is a crook,
and I hate him.

This small minority
of dog-lovers

has been sent by overseas
special-interest groups

to agitate disorder
and incite anarchy.

I hereby cancel and nullify

Foreign-exchange
student Walker's

senior high school study-visa.

She will be expelled
from class,

stripped of
her course-credits,

and formally deported
on the next direct-flight

- back to Cincinnati, Ohio.
- Oh. Hmm.

Mayor Kobayashi
has directed Major-Domo

to bring him the red button.

Nutmeg!

Holy smokes!
My lungs feel clear.

My equilibrium feels balanced.

My vision is sharp as a tack
for the first time in months.

Wow, that's a great serum!

Master Atari, whose death,
I think we can say,

appears to have been
inaccurately reported,

has asked to read a statement
to the General Assembly.

He will then withdraw
from the debate

and respond
to no further questions.

Dear Editor Hiroshi

of the Megasaki Senior High
Daily-Manifesto:

in a series
of first-rate articles

by an attractive cub-reporter
on your staff,

you shine a spot-light

on the great injustice
that has occurred

under the Kobayashi
Administration.

I have spent much of my time
in recent weeks

traveling in the company
of the very kind of animals

our mayor refers to
as "bad-dogs."

They are the finest
living-beings

I have ever come to know

in all my dozen years
on this earth.

To your readers,
the good people of Megasaki,

I say: the cycle of life

always hangs
in a delicate balance.

Who are we,
and who do we want to be?

Who are we?

I wrote a haiku
to try to express my feelings

about the suffering dogs
of Trash Island.

It is also about nature, love,

friendship, eternity,
and a black owl.

I call it: Atari's Lantern.

He said a haiku.

I'll tell you later.

I dedicate this poem

to my distant-uncle,
Mayor Kobayashi,

who took me in
when I myself was a stray-dog

with nowhere else to turn.

Editor Hiroshi,
please extend my subscription

for an additional year.

I enclose a check in the
amount of one thousand yen.

Signed, Atari Kobayashi,

former ward
to the mayoral-household.

Hmm.

Not-fair-to-the-boy.

Not-fair-to-the-dog.

He says: "I-have-no-honor."

Hmm?

Holy Moses!

The mayor
has just officially

unstamped
the Trash Island Decree!

No kidding!

Major-Domo
is accusing the mayor

of breaking
his campaign promise!

He's steaming mad!

It's gonna be a fight!

- Spit him with a tooth!
- I can't get a clean shot.

Too many innocent protesters.
I'll be right back.

Escape!

Escape! Escape!

Escape!

But, what about
the right one?

According
to a long-standing statute

unique to Uni Prefecture,

in the event of the death,

disappearance,
or felony-prosecution

of the chosen candidate

on, while, during,
or concurrent

with the Re-Election-Night
ceremony,

all powers and authorities

vested in his or her
designated office

transfer forthwith
to his or her

next-of-kin and/or
appointed heir.

In other words,

Atari Kobayashi is the new
mayor of Megasaki City!

You heard me right:
Atari Kobayashi

is the new mayor
of Megasaki City!

Let's hope
that new kidney works.

Boy, what a night!

Life in Uni Prefecture

returned to a comfortable
tranquility.

The Megasaki Dragons
ended their winning streak

with a staggering loss
to the Honda Goblins.

Doggy Chop re-opened

all 11
of its domestic factories-

and Puppy Snaps
resumed production

with an improved product.

Graft and political corruption

were reduced to sustainable,
acceptable levels.

The Dog-Flu serum

cured every breathing-animal
in the region.

Some say
a few lost-dogs

continue to roam and scavenge

on Trash Island.

However, these
rumors remain unconfirmed.

Mayor Atari,

we all agree
it should be a crime

to abuse, beat, murder

or yell at any dog
in Megasaki City.

That is not the question.

The question is:

what is the appropriate
punishment?

Exactly. And the answer is:
Death Penalty.

That seems excessive to us.

Possibly. Anyway,
we should make it

at least 30 days
community-service

and a fine
of no less than 250,000 yen.

Meeting adjourned.

I'm standing-by, Master Atari.

So how does it feel
to be a former stray?

Hmm. I take it
one day at a time.

Last week, I nearly be-handed

an industrial lobbyist
from West Suzuki.

They had to give him
a blood transfusion.

He probably had it coming.

Maybe. Learned any new tricks?

Actually, yes. Just one.

Can I see it?

I'm supposed to be juggling

ten bowling-pins
engulfed in flames

over my tail at this point,

but you just have to imagine
that part.

I can picture it.

You still against bringing
puppies into this world?

I'll tell you
when I get to know you better.

Fair enough.

My friends think
I like to fight,

but it's just not true.

Sometimes I lose my temper
and blow off a little steam,

but I've never enjoyed it.

I'm not a violent dog.

I don't know why I bite.

I'm not attracted
to tame animals.

Thank you.