Dogsitting 
By Limewah
18+
CW: oblique references to trauma

“Drop it! Drop. It.”
You hate having to raise your voice. It almost feels like an admission of defeat. But this puppy is just way too much to deal with. 
You grab a bit tighter onto the purple strap, and they bite back harder, growling and trying to pull it away from you.
“Drop it. C’mon, drop it.”
When their owner did this, they would just let go instantly. You remember full well; the last time you’d seen it happen was only three days ago. 
You’d listened very intently to her instructions, too - she was your mistress too, after all, though in a much more casual sense. 
It was so fucking unfair, you told yourself. Why didn’t you get to live in the big house with her? 
In your darker, lower moments, you fantasised about kicking Puppy out and living with her alone. But that was unfair, and selfish, as much as you disliked Puppy with their big eyes, their wagging tongue, their grin…
Do they know what they’re doing, even this deep in pup space?
They’re such a brat, but they’ve got such a heart-melting smile. They’re fine, really. Much better than they used to be.

Then again, the bratty side always seems to come roaring back out when Puppy’s, well, a puppy again.
Mistress must spoil them rotten. They’ve always been good at getting what they want, with that lethal combination of privilege and ego. You kinda never liked them, though they did mellow out once Mistress moved in with them, into the condo Puppy’s parents bought for him, that you could only dream of affording to rent for a week. Once they’d had themself broken down and rebuilt, bit by bit.
Though, when they were in pup space, they were incorrigible.
And you had to deal with them, while Mistress went home to visit her family for two weeks - in boy mode, no less.
You still taste her lips on yours, remember her whispering “I love you” into your ear as you saw her off at the airport. 

Fuck, you miss her. 
Puppy probably misses her too.
You’ve thought of giving her a call, to ask for advice for dealing with Puppy, just to hear her voice, but you know that’s risky. If she’s able to talk, she’ll call you. But you have to expect that you’re going to go another ten days without hearing from her.

“C’mon, don’t you wanna go for walkies?” You say, trying to put on a sweet tone that mimics your Mistress to the best of your ability. You can’t access the same qualities.
Puppy barks and gets up on their haunches, their mouth finally relaxing enough to let you take the leash out.
“C’mon, let’s put on your clothes first,” you say. “You gotta pretend to be a human for a little bit.”
They whine, but sort of mellow out a little. They definitely resist a bit as you dress them up - long skirt, baggy hoodie to hide the leash hidden up their sleeve, a face mask on to keep the world from seeing them nibbling on their chew toy.
You don’t really make much small talk while you’re out and about. Puppy sort of wanders and orbits around you. They know the route better than you. 

Dinner sizzles in the big pan as you endlessly stir and scrape to keep it from sticking. 
Puppy has moved from their big bed in the living room to give you big sad eyes. They’re really getting into the role - that or Mistress seared it so deeply into their brain that it’s as natural as breathing to them.
Either way. It’s very convincing.
“Wait.” you say, firmly, but gently. “You don’t wanna burn your puppy mouth, do you?”
They bark at you and whine, wiggling and wagging their little tail. Obviously, you don’t feed the Puppy dog kibble, that’d be a step too far. Croquettes and risotto from scratch; you can already tell they’re gonna keep their puppy paws on, and won’t be using utensils. You could have sworn they were doing it just to make you clean up after them. 
Were they always like this with Mistress? Was this their love language?
You were still learning it.

As soon as dinner was finished, they’d pad back to the living room where the TV played an endless loop of videos of birds, cats, and other animals that a dog would find hypnotic - the almost totally invisible spirals overlaid certainly helped with that too.
They’d bark at you until you put the headphones on over their ears to listen to the binaurals, and then you’d have a bit of free time as they got comfortable. 
You couldn’t join in, as much as you wanted to. Someone had to be responsible.
Not to mention the deadlines.

There were some nice bits, though.
You’d given up on trying to stop Puppy from crawling into your bed - technically their bed - just when you were settling in. They’d plop in next to you and nestle in close. Sometimes conking out quite quickly, snoring and murmuring actual words into your ear as they slept. 
You’d wanted to sprawl out on the queen size bed on your own, but having a warm body next to you was nice. Even if it was someone you…
Nah. You had a lot to be grateful for. 

“Puppy?” you shout, one shoe on, the other missing. “Puppy, did you take my shoe?”
You’re already running late for the bar, where you’re meeting some normie friends and playing it all as cool as possible.
“Rrrrrr.” you see them with the heel of your missing shoe in their mouth.   They wiggle and wag, shaking it in their mouth with a playful growl.
“Bring it here.” You click twice and snap, and point, the way Mistress showed you. 
It doesn’t work, the third, or the fourth time. They just stay there, watching you, waiting.
As soon as you start to waddle towards them, they take off, scrambling along the vinyl floors and racing out towards the balcony.
“No. NO. NO!” You shout. “For fuck’s sake!”
As you watch them get up on their hind legs to slide the glass door open, you sprint faster.
You think for a second that they’re about to throw your shoe out over the balcony, down the hill, and you use their real name. 
Puppy recoils from the insult, their gaze starting sad, before turning to a glare that burns right through you. You’re too mad to be apologetic, but there’s a smug anger in their eyes as well - a sort of “I’m gonna tell her” look as they drop the shoe. They saunter off with their head tilted up, very clearly avoiding your gaze as you pick it up and put it on.

You broke the scene. Like you told Mistress you wouldn’t. Shit.

As you leave the house, you’re sure that Puppy isn’t going to piss on your stuff. But you do wonder if they’re going to let Mistress know. And how she’ll react. You catastrophize the whole way over before you push it down and enter the dive bar.

“So how’s the dogsitting going?”
“Eh, it’s fine, just a lot of work, you know. The puppy’s a handful.”
“We should have a playdate! I bet Skip’ll love to make a new friend!”
“Oh, no, sorry, they don’t do so well with other dogs.”

The evening passes with lots of awkward conversation like this - Mistress is ‘Your friend Zephyr’, Puppy is ‘her partner Riley’. You’re well practised with the substitutions, keeping things hush-hush; it’s none of their business, anyway.

When you get back, Puppy is waiting for you at the door. They’re smiling, but there’s an inscrutable look about them. Satisfied? Or maybe conciliatory?
You bend down and hold your knuckle gently just below their snout.
“Sorry, Puppy,” you say. “I didn’t mean to raise-”
They’ve already started licking at your knuckles, and moving to your face.
“Drop it!” you laugh. But they don’t stop. They basically smother you with kisses. Happy to have you home. 

But they don’t stop being a brat…

They don’t heel when you ask them to, they never sit, they never show any of their tricks. Everything still happens according to their whims. The frustration starts to build, until, one day, when they’re watching their shows, you give up and head straight for her number on your phone.
“Hello?”
Her dead voice rings painfully. You can tell it’s taking her a lot of effort to keep it up.
“...Hi.” you say. 
There’s a pause.
“Let me call you back, okay?”
The line goes dead, and you feel a wave of revulsion wash over you. Choke on your fucking shame. What were you thinking?
Five minutes pass, and she calls back.

“I’m just going for a walk,” she says, and you can hear the telltale rush of wind. “Are you okay? What’s up?”
“I… wanted to hear your voice,” you admit.
Call me a good pet, call me a good pet, call me a good pet, call me a good pet….
“It’s so good to hear yours,” she says, and the warmth and relief in her voice turns your insides to jelly and makes your whole world spin back to that coffee shop where you first saw her and fell for her like a schoolchild.
“It’s just… everything’s…”
“You don’t have to talk about it, Mistress,” you say quickly.
“...Thank you. What’s going on?”
“Has Puppy called you?”
“No, why? Did the scene break?”
You hesitate a bit too long before you say “No.” 
There’s a silence on the other end.
“It’s okay if so, I mean, it’s probably really hard. Both of you are such good pets, I know you didn’t mean to slip up…”
“It’s kinda my fault… Puppy really isn’t listening to what I say, and I got mad…”
“We went through all the commands, are they not obeying them?”
“Yeah.”
“Want to put them on the phone?”
“I think they’d like that,” You admit, though you want to keep her voice to yourself. “But I think they’re watching their shows right now.”
“That’s okay. They may as well get to hear my voice…”

You’re glad that rolling your eyes doesn’t make a sound.

When you come downstairs, Puppy is still watching the screen - the spiral’s more opaque at this particular point in the loop, more obvious. You try not to stare too close at it. Your eyes naturally are tugged towards the violet and pink curves and pulses, and it pulls your thoughts towards its orbit. But you manage to keep your desires at bay. You need to be the responsible one.
“Puppy~!” You say, again trying to simulate Mistress’ tones. “I’m just putting them on now.”
Callmeagoodpetcallmeagoodpetcallmeagoodpetcallmeagoodpetcallmeagoodpet-
She’s just waiting.

You tug the headphones aside, and Puppy grunts sleepily, their eyes locking to yours with a weary annoyance before you bring the phone to their ear. They make a little dog noise as if trying to say ‘hello?’
You don’t hear what’s said, but you watch their eyes roll up behind their zoetrope eyelids and a sleepy smile spread across their drooling face. They groan and bark softly, at what you can assume is her command.

You wish she’d make you a Puppy too. 
You just hold the phone in place politely, only catching soft hints of that endless murmuring stream, the cadences that erode a deep canyon in your brain for her to fill in with her suggestions and desires.
You wish she’d do that to you. But she probably only has time for Puppy.
Your arm starts to ache when Puppy sleepily paws at your chest, before bringing their other paw up to gesture to their ear. 

As soon as you do that, they just drop to their side, straight off to trancey dreamland.

“Hello,” you say. “Anything I should know?”
“Yeah, uh… sorry again! I hope they’ll listen to you a bit better now. They’re just testing your limits.”
She’s talking to you in such a businesslike way, hopefully without meaning to. An idea that’s been simmering in the back of your head comes to the boil.
“What if you send me some voice clips? Some commands and things? Maybe they’ll listen to them?”
“...Hey, that’s a great idea, yeah.”
CALLMEAGOODPETCALLMEAGOODPETPLEASEFUCKINGGODCALLMEAGOODPET
She doesn’t. 

“I’ll, uhm… I think I can find a bit of private time later, maybe if there’s a spot with less wind I can record something- Heya!”
The sudden drop to the dead voice stabs you like an ice pick in the eardrum.
“Yeah, I’m just back for -” oh, she’s been interrupted by someone else, someone who can’t know.
You wait, trying not to eavesdrop, though her hand is covering the mouthpiece.
“Sorry about that, are you still there?”
“Yes Mistress,” you say, your tone flat.
“You okay?”
“Yes Mistress,” you say, this time too quickly to hide the lie. 
“Are you sure?”
“I’m fine.” You can’t ask her.
“… I think I can send you some stuff later… ooh, do you know how to use my midi controller?”
“The soundboard thing?”
“Yeah, I’ll send you some clips you can load on to them, you can hook it up to the little speaker in my room. Clip it onto your body or hold it with you. You can use an external battery for it too. Do you think you can find it all?”
“Okay…”
“Okay, I’m gonna have to go just in case I run into anyone else.”
PLEASEFORFUCKSSAKEITSALLIFUCKINGWANTRIGHTNOWCALLMEA
“You’re a Good Pet. Thank you so much.”
Your body feels like sour candy in a warm mouth, fizzing and melting. Those two words were the things you missed and wanted the most.
“I love you” leaps from your throat unprompted, embarrassingly full-throated..
“I love you too,” she says with a soft giggle that melts you away to nothing. “G’bye.”

You could cry with relief. You slump in next to Puppy and cradle them, cuddling them as they slip from a trance-sleep into a true sleep.
The clips come in later that night, and you take a while to plug them all in. Little pieces of masking tape cap each button, crammed with just enough sharpie-scrawled letters to make them legible.
“Sit!”
“Stay!”
“Roll over!”
“Paw!”
“Other paw!”
“Wait….”
“Hold it…”
“Drop it!”
“Quiet time!”
“Sleepy time.”
“Bring me the leash…”
“Good puppy!”

All the essentials. None of them are things you’re conditioned to, though a bit of you feels the tug towards them.
The quality’s what you’d expect from a clandestine, whispered recording on a 5 year old smartphone. But it’s her angelic voice, piped into your ears. The conditioned familiarity it brings, the way it turns your blood warm and sweet, the way it dissolves all the pain and tension. 

It takes you till about 3 am to sort it out, and you’ve got work the next morning, but there’s a fire in your mind and a desire to please… even though her voice turns your thoughts to cotton candy.
There’s a bit of a desire to put Puppy in their place, live vicariously through them as well.

You assume that’ll be something to explore after work tomorrow, but it comes far sooner than expected.

Puppy comes into your room about quarter to 4, but doesn’t just snuggle into bed. They start headbutting you and dropping their forepaws onto you. By the third whack you accept that they’re not gonna calm down.
They’ve got the zoomies. 
They bark and wag and wiggle - again, are they just doing this to fuck with you, or because they’re just so committed?
You crawl out from under them and stumble out onto your feet. Puppy follows. Your bleary eyes note that they’ve got a tennis ball in their mouth. Late-night fetch? You suppose that’s the best time to do it outdoors without being seen.
One more love language thing.
You can’t do it right now though. Time to test it out.

You go straight for the speaker and the soundboard. Puppy tilts their head to the side as they look, curious. They drop the ball and bark, their paws fidgeting against the soft mattress like they’re kneading dough.
The qualities you found annoying are getting cuter and cuter.
“Wanna play?” you say, putting on the soft, high tones that they respond well to. “You wanna play?”
Puppy barks and nods, picking up the ball again.
“Well, I can’t right now, so-”
“Quiet Time.”
It makes Puppy flinch like they’d been pinched, and the effect is almost instantaneous. They whimper and groan.
“Sleepy time.”
Their head dips lower.
“Sleepy time.”
They crumple and the ball falls from their mouth, leaving a little wet drool-patch on the bed.
“Good puppy.”
You hit that button a couple more times, and they slip into a proper slumber.

Everything’s a lot more manageable the next day - aside from getting through work.
Puppy’s a lot more pliant and willing. You use Mistress’ voice to have them practise their tricks. There’s more enthusiasm. Though they stare more at the controller than at you. It keeps them entertained at least, especially when you have ‘this-could-have-been-an-email’ Zoom meetings.

Puppy comes into the home office on two legs - they do that when they please. You don’t notice until you see them put a glass next to you - a deep black layer of coffee with a thicker layer of off-white condensed milk over it.
Since when did Puppy know how much you loved Vietnamese coffee?
You slam the “Good puppy” button a few times for that, and they whimper and lick your face gratefully before curling up at your feet. 
When you go for a walk later, ‘Bring me the leash’ and ‘Drop it’ do a lot of heavy lifting, but it takes a fraction of the time to get them out the door.

They’re still choosing to be non-verbal when they pretend to not be a puppy, but the atmosphere’s a lot less tense than it was. Or at least, you stop seeing it as tense. They’re just oblivious, maybe?

Mistress sends you some more clips the following night. Other commands and tricks, ones you don’t quite know the meaning of, but they put Puppy through their paces. You learn bit by bit what each one means. If Mistress calls Puppy a particular colour, their personality markedly shifts. Blue Puppy is sluggish and dazed, Purple Puppy is very cuddly, Yellow Puppy is just full of energy. Other triggers arouse them instantly, or give them an intense fixation on your feet, or your stomach…
There’s a lot of fun to be had, in fact, and it proves to be a fun way to work through all your past beefs with Puppy, turning their mind to soup with your Mistress’ weaponised words.
It feels so strange, being Mistress’ surrogate, having Puppy treat you as the source of all their pleasure. You feel like a pale imitation of her, relying on shortcuts and shorthand to keep her partner entertained. 
Sure, the commands are technically yours, Puppy is obeying you, but… are they really? Or are they projecting Mistress over you, imagining her in your place? Are you just a cipher, a knock-off? 

Fuck that.
You manage to push past those feelings by focusing on Puppy, providing for all their needs in return for enthusiastic obedience.
You kind of adore it after a while. Puppy’s at your beck and call, and you only need to reach for the soundboard to get their undivided attention.
You sort of get why she takes to this so well.
Maybe you could try being a dominant yourself…

A week flies by like this. The Saturday of Mistress’ return approaches rapidly, and you get settled into a comfy pattern with Puppy. Mistress doesn’t call again, but it’s easier to feel safe and comfortable now. Hearing her voice and seeing what it does to Puppy… you can place yourself inside their mind, imagine what they’re feeling, and convince yourself you can feel it too, someday.

On Wednesday, you call in sick and sleep in a bit. When you wake, and fumble for your gear, you find it’s all gone. 
You can hear her voice downstairs, and hurry down to find exactly the sight you’re expecting.
Puppy is just sitting in front of the soundboard, the speaker and battery attached and resting nearby, endlessly pawing at the same button over and over as they stare at the spiral on the big screen.
“Good puppy!”
“Good puppy!”
“Good puppy!”

It’s too adorable not to laugh at.  They only sort of notice you, still bashing the pleasure button. 
You watch for a little while, letting them have their fun, until it occurs to you that they might start to wear the button out, and how would Mistress feel about that?
You know where the ‘Drop It’ button is, so you crawl over slowly as they keep mashing.
When you press it, though-

“Sleepyhead.”
That’s one of y-...
Your head is full of warm sweet caramel, and your body sticks to the floor. Gravity strengthens. The words blanket you like a soft comforter.
You faintly are aware of Puppy looking at you, and their eyes are sparkling far more intelligently than you…
“Sleepyhead.”
Their paw is on your wrist, helping you push the button. Another layer drapes over you, and you get heavier still. Your eyelids flutter and your vision smears, and you know what’ll happen now that you’re primed, what happens if you hear it one more time…
You can feel Puppy’s paw pushing your finger against the button, and you don’t care, the thing you want most is to be a…
“Sleepyhead.”

Your world goes blank and you let the pleasure take you away. Mistress isn’t there, you know that, but just being in this state with no stimuli makes you picture her body, her skin, her textures, her taste. Gentle, rough, kind, cruel, and every shade between those. Every way she’s made you worship her, and love her, and love yourself for loving her…
Puppy nuzzles against you before turning away, you faintly feel their wagging tail thwapping against your thigh as they rummage for… it doesn’t matter.

The soft cushioned pads seal your ears off from the world around you, and you expect to hear Mistress’ voice as your window-slit eyelids are guided by Puppy’s paws to the spiral on the television.

“Hi there…~”
Your mind starts to stir when you realise, that’s not Mistress, that’s-
Snap.

Sleep, sleepyhead. Just stay under. Drop deeper for me. Drop further. Yeah… it’s Puppy. Just listen to my voice, let my words in, and let me take care of you. Mistress knows how hard you’ve been working. And I know how hard I am to work with... But you’ve been amazing, and that means you get to feel amazing. I know you’re not used to hearing my voice, not like this, but after you did all those fun things to me with Mistress’ help, it’s only fair you get the same…
So listen close. Let my words blanket you. Look at the pretty shapes. Feel my body against you. And let me tell you just how nice being a puppy is…

P…. upp….y……?

Yes. Puppy. Puppy wants to make you a Puppy too. Look at the screen, there’s lots of fun little secrets to find in the shapes. Mantras and mottos to live your life by… And I’m going to point all of them out to you. I’ll help you sniff them out. Take your time. Let my words focus you on the important task. Once you find them all, you’ll be a good Puppy just like me…!

Y..y…you look.
You look at the pretty pink shapes.
You hunt for the words, feeling your mind get quieter, and softer, and more simplistic, and brain hard to think… thinking… thinky… not so easy…
Good Puppies stare.
Yes you do that, you stare good puppy stares.
Good Puppies wag.
Yes wagwagwag you can feel tail wagwag behind you as you sit down! Puppy scritch your tail and you feel it wagwag against Puppys paw!
Good Puppies love to play.
Play?
Play!!!!!
PLAY!!!!!!!
Good Puppies are Good Pets.
Good Puppy Is Good Pet!!!
Pet???
PET!!!!
GOOD PET!!!!
PUPPY GOOD PET!!!!
But
If Puppy is Puppy, you Puppy too..?
Both Puppy???
What if Puppy thinks is Puppy…

Awww, you’re probably wondering what your name is. But Mistress told Puppy what your name is. Do you wanna know your name?

ARF!!!! Yes!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Your name is Doggy! 

Doggy!!!!!!!!!!!! Yes!!!!!! DOGGY!!!!!!

There is a part of you that is still awake, and aware, and sapient. But it’s very much a spectator. That’s how you want it. You deserve this break. You feel these feelings, the bliss of being obedient, of being Doggy-brained, just rushing into your mind and body. 
Puppy makes you look at the box that Mistress’ voice comes out of, and walks you through each and every button, each thing it does, just so you know what to expect when she comes back for real.
Puppy and Doggy work together to write a sick note so Doggy doesn’t have to go to work for the rest of the week. Two Dog-brained pets can just about manage it… and besides, the typos probably come off as feverish and delirious rather than…

Heehee.

When it’s sent, you get right back to your important business.
Doggy has to learn from Puppy. And play with Puppy too.
So much play to do. The more playing you do, the less thinking you have to do, and eventually the spectator bits of your brain just go away and you can … just…

Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy Doggy 

Car pulls up outside home, Puppy looks out window and starts yelling!!! ARF!
Puppy not normally yell when car come but car special???????
Doggy yells too! ARF!
Looky out window and see who???
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
MISTRESS!!!!!!!!!!!!

Puppy and Doggy race down stairs and sit in front of door yell a bunch so Mistress hurry with key scratchy in door…
Mistress home!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
“Oh my Gosh~!” Mistress drop big baggies and rubs Puppy and Doggy!!! Puppy kiss Mistress face, Doggy kiss Mistress face and push her over and she screams and laughs!
“Look at you two… looks like you were behaving! Being such good Pets~”
!!!!!!!!
Good Pet Good Pet Doggy is Good Pet!!!!
Doggy Good Doggy Goddy Doog Dog Doggy
!!!!Love Mistress!!!!

The sight of her nearly wakes you up from Pup space. It’s… upsetting.
She looks exhausted. Haggard. Deflated and hunched forward, none of the poise and grace you’ve been so used to.
Her long hair’s been cut short, with a messiness that suggests it wasn’t done professionally.
She isn’t wearing any makeup, and there are nicks on her face from a very recent, shaky shave.
She’s dressed in baggy, unflattering clothing, and the perfume she’s wearing only mostly covers up the scent that comes with being in transit for 20 hours. 
You’ve never seen her like this. 
But she’s still Mistress.
She’s still the most beautiful being you’ve ever known. 
And she looks so sad…
You nearly want to pull yourself up out of trance, to ask her if she’s okay, but…
She doesn’t need to tell you about the two weeks. You know this - what you and Puppy are doing right now - is exactly what she needs.

“I love you two so much.”

She sounds like she’s about to cry. Good thing Doggy -and their good friend Puppy - know how to show her love and cheer her up again. 
She deserves that much. And providing it brings you joy like nothing you’ve ever felt.
You - all three of you - will hold onto this memory for the rest of your lives.

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