Buster: All right, all right. That is not what happened. He met this girl, see? Queen of a kennel club set. But it still leaves a bad taste in my mouth, and her prissy little name is Lady.
Angel: But he met his true love.
Buster: He betrayed me! You can't have a family and still be a junkyard dog at the same time. So I gave Tramp a choice. It's either me or her. And he picked life on the end of a chain. Hooked up with a real powder puff. Sleeping on carpets. Free room and board! Living the cushy pillow life! And that's when I learned the first rule about being a junkyard dog: "Buster's trouble is Buster's trouble." [notices the way Scamp scratches] Hey! Hey, hey, hey! The Tramp used to scratch like that. You ain't related, are you?
Scamp: Who, me? No way!
Buster: Good. 'Cause if you were, you'd be nothing but kibble.
Scamp: Right, Buster.
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