Nobody in Manhattan is having a particularly swell seventh of August this year. It’s way too hot, the subways are running late...and then, just before nine in the morning, a heavily-armed, well-organized militia descends upon the city with guns, explosives, and a seemingly indiscriminate bloodlust. Not a swell day to be a New Yorker, to say the least...but an especially un-swell day to be Jairzinho Navias.
That’s not just because Jairzinho’s having problems in his personal life (he is), or because he’s more than a little hungover today (not unrelated). It’s mostly to do with the fact that he’s a professional dogwalker. Which means he’s got nine dogs strapped to his waist when half the city - including the dogs’ home - blows up. Which, in turn, leaves him with a choice: ditch the dogs and find a way back to his place in Brooklyn...or keep hold of the leashes, and find a way to lead the dogs to safety with him?
The dogs, of course, don’t give two squats about Jairzinho’s big choice, or his failing relationship. They’ve got their own dramatic little doggy disputes to worry about; Why’s the walk route so jumbled up? Why’s Ducky being such a dingus today? Does Barmit like Meatball more than Kelso? And most importantly, what does all of this mayhem mean for their Breakfast? It’s only a matter of time, as Jairzinho tries to wrestle his Giants off the island and out of harm’s way, that some of the dogs start to wonder if their most pressing problem might not be the agitated monkey-man at the other end of the leash...