#digging into this with the enthusiasm of a dog with her chew toy

[alistair-blackwood]

while watching nimona, my friends and I got into a huge argument about how they could have scottie terriers with no scotland and jazz with no harlem renaissance so now I too just like to drop explicit references to real world things in my fic that have 0% justification being there in the first place and i feel like the funniest mfer alive

[popatochisssp]

Obviously no pressure, but if you wanted to share your ideas on house pets, there would be great interest from at least one person. But headcanons are closed and I totally respect that (this very ask aside sorry). No pressure to do anything!!! just wanted to let you know that it seems like fun info.

Sans (Undertale): Strongly inspired by a fantastic fanfiction I can’t recommend enough, he has a cat affectionately named Catsup (Norwegian Forest Cat). Of course he does. Pretty typical story here, he more or less went to a shelter, locked onto the biggest, fattest cat there, and filled out the paperwork to damn her to a life of having a pun for a name. He...may have only gone to the shelter because he was hardcore struggling with depression and his brother read somewhere that pets can help a little, but that's...that’s neither here nor there. Catsup turned out to be a perfect fit for Sans in spite of his initial attitude of, 'I'm only doing this to make Papyrus happy'-- she's probably just about as chill and lazy as the skeleton himself, content to flop over just about anywhere, anytime and hang out. Her laidback nature was a blessing for Sans, a first-time cat-owner who didn't really know what he was doing or what she needed right away. A more high-maintenance cat probably wouldn't have been as forgiving and there'd have been a lot more stress on everybody before he got it figured out. Now, he considers Catsup his best little pal and doesn't even need to be reminded to change out her bowls and her litter. He's surprisingly responsible, when he actually really cares about something.

Catsup’s Quirks: Likes it when you gently slap her belly, always gravitates towards the room with the most people in it, often appears in unusual places that it seems like she shouldn't have been able to get to

Papyrus (Undertale): He...begrudgingly missed working with the Canine Unit once the Royal Guard was officially disbanded... It took him awhile to be able to openly admit he was interested in getting a dog, and when he did, he had standards-- it had to be a smart dog, one that could learn tricks and follow rules, unlike a certain annoying creature that’s plagued his life and home and special attacks in the past!!! So he did a lot of breed research, found a local, ethical breeder for the kind he was looking for, and went to pick out a pup. Spike (Border Collie), so named for his incredible coolness, is a perfect fit for his energetic skeleton friend and loves to run, exercise, and learn new tricks all the time!

Spike’s Quirks: Learned to wipe his feet before coming inside just by watching Papyrus do it, hams up his tricks and sometimes does them without prompting, never leaves the park without an impractically large stick to bring home

Sky (Underswap Sans): You will literally never get him to admit the real reason he got a dog companion because he knows in his heart of hearts that it’s such a silly reason... He saw a video online of a dog delicately eating a watermelon and while most people would’ve had a kneejerk reaction of, “I NEED TEN,” but not gotten any, he had the same reaction and just...talked himself down to one. And so came Poff (Samoyed), a big ol’ floofer who’s a lot like her master when it comes to levels of energy and affection. She’s happy to follow him around on patrols, training sessions, and even through obstacle course...so of course, she tends to get very dirty very quickly. Luckily, Sky’s diligence in grooming her keeps her coat as white and fluffy as her namesake!

Poff’s Quirks:  Loves baths, tap dances at the mention of treats, doesn't chew her toys and just hoards them instead

Paps (Underswap Papyrus): He wasn’t really in the market for a dog, himself. He was just along for the ride when his bro was picking up Poff, when he happened to hear the most hilarious sing-screaming sound he’d ever heard in his life. He followed it all the way to the little fellow who would soon be known as Smoochie (French Bulldog), and he sure seemed upset about...something? He never really figured out why, he was laughing too hard from hearing a sound like that come out of something so small and weird-looking. He didn't try to adopt Smoochie that day, much as he loved his sound, but he found himself going back to the shelter a couple times just to check on and play with him. After two or three months with no one else adopting the little prima-donna, he figured he might as well commit and take him home. He's a fun little dude and Paps hasn't regretted it for a second, but he's forever in denial about just how much of a Dog Dad he's become since. It's totally normal to carry your dog around in the hood of your sweatshirt, isn't it???

Smoochie’s Quirks: Screams a lot, will eat food out of peoples’ hands if they’re not paying attention, jumps higher than it seems like he should be able to

Jasper (Underfell Sans): Like most things in his life, he didn’t put a whole lot of planning or forethought into getting a dog. He was out one night, decently drunk, and a friend of a friend of a friend of a coworker was talking about this dumb dog he had that was supposed to be a guard dog but couldn't do it worth a damn because he was too friendly. The guy was yammering about how to get rid of it and something about that struck a chord with Jasper. It was pretty soon after monsters surfaced and maybe that's why it felt...important to him? He was probably just drunk and emotional and soft that he even stepped in or said anything, but it is what it is. He’s a skilled enough conman that it didn't take him long to talk the guy around in circles until he was willing to pay Jasper for the privilege of taking this animal off his hands and in short order, he was almost bowled over by the big dog that planted its paws on his shoulders at their first meeting. Jasper immediately renamed him from something cliché and 'intimidating' to Tubbs (Rottweiler) for how heavy the goofy bastard was and then brought him right home. His brother wasn't particularly pleased and swore he would not be caring for this beast, but he never had to; Jasper kinda missed having something trusting and affectionate to take care of, and Tubbs has been daddy's little fatty ever since.

Tubbs’ Quirks: Shreds even the heaviest duty toys, lays on people as if he were a lap dog, drools rivers if somebody's eating food around him

Pyre (Underfell Papyrus): Who am I to defy literal years of fanon...? His first meeting with Doomfanger (Persian) was about as clichéd as it gets-- a scrawny, dingy, scraggly and matted cat scurrying out of an alley in the rain. She went right up to him and, well... it was love at first mew. He scooped her right up, bestowed a fittingly intimidating name upon her, and took her home with him, in spite of the fact that she looked more like a mutant rat than a cat at the time. After shaving the mats off, bathing the dirt away, and getting her some regular food, though, Doomy actually ends up being an exceedingly beautiful feline! He credits his attentive care and grooming for her pristine, silvery fluff and will brag about it at a moment's notice, but he's just ever so slightly in denial about her sweet and gentle nature. Doomfanger is a vicious killing machine, a true apex predator that nothing stands a chance against! That's...that’s obviously why he carries her around so much... And why he plucks her away from any other animal that comes near her like some sort of mother hen-- he's minimizing the bloodshed! If he let her loose, there would be no survivors!

Doomfanger’s Quirks: Meows in peeps, avid shadow-chaser, extremely receptive to handling

Mal (Swapfell Sans): Hey, anyone remember FGTC? This one cameo’d in that fic, she may seem familiar~ So...he wanted a pet. At first, he thought a cat would be good, fierce independent hunters that they’re reputed to be...but after spending time with a lot of cats and not really clicking with any, he was forced to concede that he was just more of a dog person. In hindsight, of course that’s what he was looking for: a loyal companion to (literally, ha!) dog his steps and follow his orders. Before he can actually, intentionally start looking for one, though, the universe works its magic and he finds one digging around in the garbage out behind the house. The emergency vet he brings the scarred and skeletal stray to tells him that, judging by her injuries, she was probably bait in some dog-fighting ring somewhere and got thrown away when she wasn’t useful anymore. Well. Fuck that, Princess (Pitbull) deserves better than that, and she’ll have it! He takes on the duty of nursing her back to health and earning her trust and it isn’t long before she shows her true colors as the loviest sweetheart of a dog that ever was. She’s utterly useless as an attack/guard dog, but her barks are loud and intimidating, and she obeys commands at the drop of a hat, so Mal doesn’t hold that against her. She goes with him just about anywhere she’s allowed and he shows her off with the same enthusiasm you’d expect for a pedigreed Best in Show dog.

Princess’ Quirks: Wags with her entire butt, will kiss the moment someone’s face is in range, barks at doorbells both real and on TV

Rus (Swapfell Papyrus): He didn’t mean to get a cat, not really... He was just following along with his brother when Mal was kicking around the idea of getting one, and Mal may not have clicked with anybody there, but he sure did. Actually... Kitkat (Manx) may have picked him and he’s just along for the ride. Kitkat was kinda young at the time, a little smaller than all the rest and also...no tail??? But what a personality, loud and playful and super sweet and...when it was time to leave the shelter, he just...he couldn’t bring himself to do it without her, he was in love! It’s mutual, at least-- she latched right onto him pretty much instantly and is pretty much never not with him whenever he’s at home, following him around from room-to-room.

Kitkat’s Quirks: Bone-rattlingly loud purrs, loves to play fetch, prone to 3AM zest for life and zooming all around the house accordingly

Slate (Horrortale Sans): I actually wrote about this one! But the gist of it is...he likes cats. Eventually got confident enough to go get one and zeroed right in on the weirdest-looking, least adoptable cat in the shelter he volunteers at. Slinky (Cornish Rex) was deaf, kinda ugly, and a whole lotta weird, but hell, she’ll fit right in at home, yeah? And so she does! She wrecks a lotta shit and is loud as hell, but stuff is only stuff and Slate’s never had an issue with noise. Actually...she really helps him out with his sleep and focus issues, it’s hard to drop off or dissociate when you have a cat in your lap, yelling at you at batting your face because it’s Play Time or Dinner Time, wake the fuck up!!! She’s a bastardous gremlin, but he loves her to bits.

Slinky’s Quirks: Clumsy and bad at judging distances, loves ankle-looping, insists on sniffing all people-food but never actually tries to eat it

Papy (Horrortale Papyrus): Following the trauma of the underground and the ensuing massive outpouring of empathy from humanity at large, monsters were made aware of many therapeutic resources that they could take advantage of, one of which was therapy animals. Papy naturally thought this was a wonderful idea...for other monsters, who were of course far more psychologically-damaged and not quite so good at enduring as himself. But...his brother does volunteer at an animal shelter, and he goes to visit him on occasion so he's made friends with a lot of animal people. This is how he hears about a therapy dog in need of a new forever-home due to complicated circumstances with her former owner, and well... it would be rude not to offer the Lady (Borzoi) a place to stay! He’s surprised by her appearance at first, having expected something more like a golden retriever or some kind of shepherd??? But he's very quickly charmed by her and actually feels more than a little bit of kinship with her no stranger to being long and oddly proportioned, himself-- and they're both doing their best to make it look graceful instead of weird. Since Lady proves to be a sweet and gentle-mannered dog, Papy just sort of...never bothers trying to find other accommodations for her. She’s welcomed wholeheartedly into their home, which she repays with plenty of unconditional love and effortless emotional support!

Lady’s Quirks: Spins in circles when excited, very polite when begging for table scraps, never barks but howls often

[shirtlesssammy]

8x14: Trial and Error

Then:

Sam and Dean finally have a home.

Now:

Kevin Tran is living the dream on “Fizzle’s Folly” (omg). He’s working hard translating half the (demon?) tablet, drinking coffee, and frying up hot dogs, day after day after day...the boy isn’t doing so well. 

One day, he looks at his board of clues and exclaims, “Holy Crap!” He promptly gets a nose bleed and passes out. 

At the bunker, Dean is busy placing his new room in order: New Zep album, guns on the wall, and photo of Mary on the desk. Sam stops by to scoff at Dean’s enthusiasm for a real room. Dean’s too busy loving his new memory foam bed to care. 

Later Sam is digging through books in the library (yeah, you say this isn’t a home but you’re already hooked, Sammy). Dean brings him food wearing just a henley (Nesting looks so good on Dean). Then Sam starts to be crappy about Dean cooking (and YOUNG MAN, who cooked for you your whole fucking life?).

Before Dean can take a bite into his amazing burger, he gets a cryptic call from Kevin. 

They get to the houseboat to find a very sick Kevin. He figured out how to close the gates of hell! Germaphobe Dean gives Kevin a big hug and then Kevin breaks down what has to happen.

It’s a spell said in Enochian after completing three trials. 

The first trial: Kill a Hell Hound and bathe in its blood. Dean is pumped! He sets out to get goofer dust and better food for Kevin. Sam is tasked on finding someone who has a demon deal coming due. 

Sam takes a moment to tell Kevin to take better care of himself. “Saving the world? It’s a marathon, not a sprint.” Kevin knows that if they close the gates of Hell, he can get his life back. He wants this over asap. 

Dean comes back and essentially tells Kevin to do the opposite of what Sam just said. Sam tells Dean about the Cassity family and their weird luck 10 years ago. Dean’s game! 

Shoshone, Idaho

The boys arrive at the Cassity estate. They find the farm caretaker, Ellie, and she mistakes them for potential employees so they roll with it. They then meet Carl, the husband of one of the adult children in the family. After two seconds of interacting with the brothers he thinks they should be hired. Ellie reluctantly agrees and shows them their quarters. Then they get to do their “crap work” and by that, Dean finds out, she means actually cleaning horse stalls. 

They witness a fight between Eliie and Alice, Carl’s wife. She’s frustrated with the exchange and doesn’t pay mind to Dean’s casual flirting. 

It’s all to figure out who has a hellhound on their ass and both brothers assume it’s Alice.

That night over dinner, Alice and Carl hear the howl of a dog in the distance. 

Alice decides to go check on the horses. The brothers follow. 

Back at the dinner table, Carl gets a visit from a hungry invisible hound. Whelp.

Later, Sam tries to ask some questions at the investigation but doesn’t get far. They learn that all the Cassitys will be flying in soon. The brothers think that Carl had to have been the one to sign the deal and now he’s dead. Dean suggests they get out of there now that they didn’t get the hellhound. 

Sam heads to the stables where he runs into Alice. He asks if she’s ok, and she says she’s fine. 

She knows she should feel bad because she loved Carl, she just doesn’t remember why. This sets off alarm bells for Sam so he asks more questions. She grew up with Carl, but didn’t really see him until a Valentine’s Day party ten years prior. 

Sam meets up with Dean in their quarters. Dean wants to summon a cross-roads demon. Uh, dude, slow your roll. Sam tells Dean about his exchange with Alice, and how it seems that he sold his soul for her, not the family oil. A demon made multiple deals with this one family 10 years ago. 

The rest of the family arrive. There’s Noah Cassity, 71, worth a billion and just married wife no. 5. Then there’s Cindy, the middle child after Alice. She’s an alcoholic washed up country singer. Finally there’s Margie. She ran away 10 years ago and lives in Paris. 

Ellie needs help now that the family is all there. Dean tasks Sam with waiting on them and Ellie gives Dean grill duty. She’s very impressed with his meat handling. 

*Horrible Family Dinner Alert*

The family sits down for dinner. Sam serves wine (but not enough for Cindy). 

Or maybe too much, because she reveals that Margie and Carl slept together before Alice and Carl were together. 

Alice tries to remember the last time they had dinner together. It was a long time ago. Their father had invited a traveling salesman to join them. Charming, English, and named Crowley. Upon hearing that, Sam’s brain breaks.

Sam drops the news on Dean and they both worry about Crowley dropping in on their hellhound killing mission. Kevin calls with a new bit of timely trivia. The only way to see a hellhound is to either be damned or through an object scorched by holy fire. Dean nabs two pairs of protective eyewear to douse with holy oil. 

The Cassitys continues to be The Worst. Noah and Margie head out with shotguns (and a little too much booze in the system) to kill themselves a wolf. This can only end well. Sam catches up with the bad idea gang and offers to join their posse - mostly to keep them from getting killed. 

Ellie saunters outside, looking awfully fine. She clearly thinks the same of Dean by the way she’s giving him the look-over. 

“I think you’re really hot,” she tells him. “You wanna go to my room and...have sex?” Like, YES? Dean’s brain basically stops working for a moment before he turns her down. He asks for a rain check and her face settles into something more serious and almost sad. “This is one night only.” Ouch, man. Ouch.

Sam’s crew has made it into the woods (super plan) where they start to get followed by the blurry handheld camera-de-hellhound. Sam peels off, tracking an odd sound, and ends up face-to-face with Noah. Margie’s off on her own. Cue the screaming and the blood! And now we’re down another family member since the hellhound has hauled Margie off to the pit.

Back in the house, Dean and Sam drop the pretense. The dead members of the family Cassity all sold their souls to a demon and hellhounds are using them as chew toys. They handcuff the family to the furniture (so they don’t freak out and hurt themselves), seal up the house with graveyard dirt, and head out to stalk the hound. That’s...one way to do it. 

Dean orders Sam to stay safe in the house with the family while he goes out and does hero work. Sam calls him on his bullshit and Dean tells Sam that the trials are going to end in the death of one of them. “Or worse.” And if someone’s gotta go, it sure as hell’s gonna be Dean. Sam sees a way out but Dean - poor, fatalistic Dean - thinks he might as well go out in a blaze of glory. “I'm gonna die with a gun in my hand. 'Cause that's what I have waiting for me – that's all I have waiting for me. I want you to get out. I want you to have a life – become a Man of Letters, whatever. You, with a wife and kids and – and – and grandkids, living till you're fat and bald and chugging Viagra – that is my perfect ending, and it's the only one that I'm gonna get.” Oh, Dean. Always trying to feed up Sammy. A true parent!

Dean stalks the farm with his Clark Kent glasses and heads to the barn. There’s light and music playing and it calls Dean in like a siren song. 

The Cassitys continue to break down. They suspect that Margie made the deal that made them rich. 

Meanwhile, Dean walks in on Ellie drunk and dancing to “I touch myself.” She prowls into Dean’s space and Dean goes full-on awkward on her, telling her to stay inside no matter what she hears. “There’s something evil out there.”

“I know,” she says. She’s waiting for the hellhound to arrive and collect on HER deal. Oof.

Sam heads to the window and sees the hellhound prowling through the yard. At the same moment, Alice freaks out and breaks out of the house to run to her car, leaving Sam no choice but to race after her. The hound growls nearby and Sam shoos her back inside.

Ellie spills the details to Dean. She met Crowley that same night he made a deal with Margie. Ellie sold her soul to heal her mom from Parkinson’s and send her to a happy retirement. When Dean berates her, she asks him what he would have done if it was HIS mom. The same damn thing, his face says.

Dean also learns that Crowley never told Ellie that her ticket was up in 10 years, or that she’d be torn asunder by beasts. The beast howls and Ellie starts to hallucinate Dean’s face going all demon-horror. Dean pours out the last of the graveyard dust into a circle and orders Ellie inside. He heads out to face the hellhound. 

In the rest of the barn, the horses are all SUPER quiet considering there’s an apex supernatural predator prowling around. Dean puts on his glasses (HAWT) and starts tracking the hound. He offers up some quips to the unappreciative beast and then is knocked aside and sliced across the ribs by the hound. It approaches him, ready to rip him apart, when Sam shoots at it. The hound scampers, Sam grabs the knife, and slices himself a fresh hellhound in the heat of the moment. 

He’s doused with black gooey hellhound blood. Well. That went perfectly to plan!

They plan to create a hex bag for Ellie and tell her to run and hide from Crowley. Dean grabs some of the blood from Sam’s clothes and tries to do the first spell. It’s a total bust. 

Sam tells Dean that he’s planning on doing the trials. And then he drops a truly wonderful, cathartic speech. “I want to slam Hell shut, too, okay? But I want to survive it. I want to live, and so should you. You have friends up here. Family. I mean, hell, you even got your own room now. You were right, okay? I see light at the end of this tunnel. And I'm sorry you don't – I am. But it's there. And if you come with me, I can take you to it.” SAM!!! What a good speech. He also tells Dean that he’s more than a grunt - he’s a genius hunter. Awwww, Sam - what a good brother! He asks Dean to BELIEVE in him.

Dean hands the spell over, a little resigned. What a MOMENT! Sam does the spell and it works instantly. Sam’s arm lights up with power and he grunts at the pain of it. And then he collects himself. “I’m okay,” he tells Dean. Oh Sam bby.

______________________________

You Look Like Clark Quotes in Those Glasses:

Memory foam. It remembers me!

I'm nesting, okay?

This whole saving the world thing? It’s a marathon, not a sprint.

Did you know that there are like 6,000 kinds of tomatoes.

I do like a man who can handle his meat.

You're not a grunt, Dean. You're a genius.

______________________________

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[the-everqueen]

a long long time ago, i promised @stellerssong camping fic. here it finally is, with much love: 4k of wolf shenanigans and me dragging the founders. this is titled “werewolf gimmick” in my docs, but has very little to do with the tmg song - mostly i just found the dichotomy hilarious.

Thanks to general panic over midterms in the class he TAs, John gets home late that evening. Alex doesn’t jump to greet him like usual: he’s on the couch, eyes glued to his laptop screen, claws tapping at the keys. John toes off his shoes and sets down his backpack. “Have you moved at all since I left?”

“Mm?” Alex flicks an ear. “Oh. Yeah, we’re out of bologna.”

“And cheese.” John rummages around in the fridge for the salmon he’d set to marinate that morning. He has brussel sprouts he could roast, but that takes so long. Maybe he’ll make a salad instead. “Hey, Alex, would you eat kale?”

“Depends. Is there bacon in it?”

So, no. John takes out the greens anyway; he can have the leftovers for lunch tomorrow. The salmon just needs a quick sear, and he boils some minute rice. Fast, simple, nutritious: the kind of dinner he learned to make in his undergrad and thought he’d never have to cook again. Back before the — before Alex was a werewolf, John might have asked him to make quesadillas or breakfast for dinner, the two meals he could be guaranteed to not burn. But last week Alex tried to cook pancakes as a surprise and ended up eating a dozen raw eggs in the process. John found him licking the remains of the last one off the counter.

Alex is now exempt from kitchen-related chores.

John hands him a plate, sans kale. There are some battles even he won’t fight. “How’s the article coming?”

“Got another round of edits.” Alex snaps up a bite of salmon, not bothering with utensils. “I might be able to finish it tonight. Already started on the next project — the editor said she’s looking for a piece for December.”

“You’ve been working really hard.”

Alex snorts. “Yeah, well. Gotta make up for those full moons.”

“That’s one day a month.”

He nibbles at the rice, swallows down another piece of salmon. John waits for further argument, but Alex stares into space, thinking about his edits or maybe the neighbor’s cat. Ever since he got that piece published in Fast Company, he’s been writing non-stop, aiming for something bigger or more permanent. John is glad he’s recovered his sense of purpose — Alex, listless on the couch, eyes dull as he watches Cesar Millan videos, should be an aberration, not the norm. But then John is starting to think Alex is going too far in the other direction: working every second he’s awake, like he has to be productive or else he isn’t worth anything. He has bags under his eyes that aren’t just patches of dark fur growing on his face.

Last semester was — well, there isn’t a word to summarize it. Alex getting bitten, Alex dropping out of school, Alex changing in so many ways, obvious and subtle, all of them uncanny valley familiar. He deserves a break, a real one, a chance to not worry about looking human and just be able to relax.

A vacation.

John takes their plates to the sink. Alex has licked his dish clean and returned to his article, ears perked at attention. His laptop is perched on the arm of the couch, his hips twisted to the side to accommodate his tail, which thumps in time to whatever’s going on inside his brain. John grabs his own computer and shoots a quick message to Harrison: you have a tent, yeah? could i borrow it?

***

“We’re going camping,” John announces over breakfast.

Alex wrinkles his nose. “Like, today? Don’t you have class?”

“No, not today. This weekend.”

“This weekend.”

“Yeah.”

“Full moon.”

“Yes?” Alex is giving him a blank look, and John presses on. “You finished your edits, and you won’t have thumbs. I booked the campsite, Harrison is loaning me his tent. I just thought —  you’ve been working so hard, and you deserve a break, and we haven’t done anything special since, well. You know.”

“Since the bite.”

“Yeah.”

Alex picks at the cleft in his lip. At this point in the cycle he doesn’t have much that could be called eyebrows, since his face is mostly dark fur, but the tawny spots on his brow ridges draw together in something like confusion. “So you thought camping?”

“I can’t exactly take a wolf to the spa. Besides, you could use a change of scenery.”

Alex shrugs. “You’ve seen one tree, you’ve seen them all.”

“That’s not even remotely true.”

“Which one of us is the naturalist here?”

“I’m going to vet school, Alex.”

“Yeah you are.” His mouth falls into what’s probably intended to be a salacious grin but instead looks very canine, his long tongue hanging over his teeth.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m dating a future doctor!”

John rolls his eyes. Swallowing down the last of his tea, he wraps his arms around Alex and buries his face in the fur poking above the collar of his hoodie. “I heard he even makes house calls,” he murmurs.

“Now who has the bad lines?” Alex asks. But he shivers as John presses a kiss to the side of his face, and his tail thwacks against John’s leg. “I’ve never been camping.”

“You never — oh.” He knows bits and pieces about Alex’s childhood, collected from hints dropped like breadcrumbs, but he feels stupid that this is the first time he’s realizing Alex probably didn’t have annual family vacations as a kid. “Well, I can do the setup and teardown myself, so that’s not a problem. Maybe you can catch dinner?”

“Oh yeah, cause I do that all the time.”

“You caught that squirrel.”

Alex shoots a doleful glance at the faded stain on the living room carpet. Two months later, and John still hasn’t managed to scrub out the evidence of Alex’s anniversary present. Who would have thought squirrel guts would be the Achilles’ heel to every cleaning product on the market?

One ear perks and the other tilts down in an expression John has come to understand as extreme skepticism. Alex says, “Let’s hope your surprise turns out better than mine did.”

***

Alex might be dubious about the concept of vacation, but that doesn’t keep him from howling along to Lorde as they drive down the interstate. Not quite in tune, though he makes up for it with enthusiasm. According to his phone, it’s a five-hour drive to the camp, and since Alex can’t pass the time with an extended rant, John has Pandora and a half dozen chew toys to keep him occupied. Alex “sings” along to the techno-pop, prods John into telling him about the latest gossip in the animal husbandry department, and manages to wrestle the squeaker out of his stuffed turtle — all in the span of an hour. Hour two, a Prius rides next to them for a couple miles, a grinning pit bull in the backseat, and Alex goes wild, barking and clawing at the door. When the car pulls ahead, he grumbles.

John takes pity on him and rolls down the window.

Alex sticks his head outside, face breaking into a canine grin. His tongue lolls and flaps in the breeze, and he laughs, an incongruous human sound.

“Having fun there?” John asks.

His tail thumps on the center console.

***

It’s afternoon when they get to the campground, their arrival delayed by a quick lunch stop. Alex has thumbs enough to open the door, but his hips have given up on being bipedal and he clambers out of the car on all fours, still wearing his Columbia hoodie. John hauls out his backpack, the tent, and the cooler. “Ready?”

Alex paws at the cooler and whines.

“It’s fine, I got it.” John hefts the gear for emphasis. “See? Marta used to make me carry her shit on vacations. Dad always sided with her, too, said I had to be a gentleman. Like she didn’t scare half the boys at school with her left hook.”

Alex snickers.

Workout benefits of being the packhorse aside, John is glad their campsite isn’t far from the parking area. He dumps their gear in the center of the cleared ground and rolls his shoulders, looking around. The weather forecast predicted a warm weekend, but cold nights in the mountains, meaning the fire pit should be useful for more than just roasting marshmallows. Through the trees, their neighbor’s tent is visible — must be a family, he can hear kids shrieking and laughing. Alex’s ears swivel in the direction of the sound.

“You can explore, if you want. I gotta set up the tent.”

He cocks his head.

“You won’t get lost, you can — I dunno — smell your way back? Just don’t go too far. Also maybe take off the hoodie.”

Alex wriggles out of his sweatshirt, with some help from John. Shakes out his fur. It’s not quite full moon, but close enough that Alex passes for some sort of wolf-dog hybrid. Only John would recognize that his thumbs haven’t yet receded into dewclaws, or what the awkward slope of his shoulders means.

Alex scratches at his belly with his hind foot.

“Oh, wait —” John digs around in his backpack until he finds the leather collar. The tags jangle as he fastens it around Alex’s neck, and his boyfriend makes a disgruntled sound. “There. Looks like you belong to someone.”

A warning growl.

“Well, you’re mine, aren’t you? Don’t want you getting picked up by some cute park ranger.”

Alex swipes a lick across John’s cheek and goes bounding into the trees.

Turns out pitching a tent is not like riding a bike — it’s been years since John went camping, and he had at least one other person to help him. He wrestles with one stubborn corner, grateful that Alex isn’t here to watch and laugh at him. By the time he rolls out the sleeping bags and stashes their gear, he’s sweating and the sun has crawled closer to the horizon.

Childish screams alternate with a familiar bark. John wanders over to their neighbor’s campsite and finds Alex playing with two little kids, sisters if their matching shirts and corkscrew curls are any indication. The younger one toddles after Alex, her arms outstretched, and he lopes just out of reach, reverses to dodge the older girl. His tail wags.

“Nice dog, is he yours?”

John turns to the couple sitting in fold-out chairs, watching the kids. “Yeah. I’m John, we’re —” he gestures back at the trees “— right next door.”

“Mattie,” the woman says, holding out her hand. “This is my husband, Thom.”

The man gives John a considering look. “What brings you out here?”

“Well, uh, it’s spring break.”

“You’re a student?”

“Grad student. Vet school.”

Thom nods. “So you like the outdoors.”

“Yeah. And Alex needs a lot of exercise.” John glances at his boyfriend, who’s getting belly rubs from the girls.

“I didn’t think wolf-hybrids were a thing in California,” Mattie says, not accusing, just curious.

“He’s not — we don’t know what breed he is? Got him at the local shelter.”

“Well-trained,” Thom observes.

“Ha. Well. You should see what he did to the couch. But he likes kids.”

“I’ve heard larger breeds tend to be really social.” Mattie adjusts her sunglasses. “We were thinking of getting a pet, since the girls have been asking. But I’m not sure how much time I can afford to train a dog when I can’t even get this one here to make the bed.” She swats playfully at her husband. “I swear, he gets up at six in the morning just to get out of fixing the sheets.”

“I’m checking the temperature!”

“You’re a philosophy professor.”

“Global warming is a real issue that affects us all.”

She rolls her eyes. “See? No help.”

“Pet ownership is a serious commitment,” John says, relieved to have the conversation move away from the subject of his boyfriend. “You wouldn’t believe how many animals we get at the shelter because someone didn’t realize their cute little puppy would grow into a bigger dog.”

From there the talk revolves around hypoallergenic dogs and finding a reputable breeder. At some point Alex wanders over, panting. He rubs his face on John’s leg, and John pets the tawny spot between his eyes. “Hey, ba — boy.”

Alex snorts.

Thom gives them a funny look.

John blushes and opens his mouth to — explain? deny that he’s dating his dog? — but the girls choose that moment to interrupt, the younger climbing into Mattie’s lap and burying her face in her stomach.

“Oh dear, someone needs a nap.” Mattie pats her back soothingly. “Thom, you want to get her blankie out?”

That’s their cue to leave. John pats Alex’s side. “We should go. Those hot dogs I brought won’t cook themselves.”

“Sure,” Thom says. “We’ll see you around.”

At least Alex holds in his (suspiciously human sounding) laughter until after they get to their tent.

***

“Alex, no — drop it!”

John grabs for him and Alex dodges, running to the other end of the campsite, the bag of marshmallows dangling from his teeth. He drops it, not for John, but to paw at the hole cut into one corner, trying to make it wider. Sugar smell, want want want. He bites at the opening and manages to snag one marshmallow before John snatches the bag from him.

“These are for s’mores,” he says, exasperated.

Alex grumbles. What’s the difference? They’re going to be eaten regardless, and Alex can’t have chocolate. Graham crackers are bland and not made for people whose canines evolved to better tear apart flesh and bones.

“We’re gonna toast them.” Oh, of course, that human fascination with cooking food. John continues, “Besides, you can’t be hungry, you ate an entire package of hot dogs.”

Like that’s ever stopped Alex from going through the trash. He whines, giving his best pout.

“Nope. That’s not working.”

He gets down on his belly and rolls over.

“You can wait the literal two minutes it’ll take to brown these.”

Fine. He slinks over to where he abandoned his book and lays down with a huff.

Three minutes later, he’s licking gooey marshmallow off John’s lips.

***

John has a hike planned the next morning. Nothing too long — Alex might have better stamina than him, but he hates exercise as much as he did when he was human, fetch and the occasional game of “chase me around the living room” being the exceptions. But it’s cool and green out, and Alex preens at the attention from other hikers, and when they reach the end of the trail there’s a waterfall.

Alex jumps onto a flat rock and tilts his face toward the spray. His whiskers twitch, eyelashes fluttering and collecting little droplets. John sits down next to him, shrugging off the backpack. “Having fun there?”

He wags his tail. Then his expression turns considering. John has just enough time to register his boyfriend tensing before Alex leaps into the water with a terrific splash.

Since the bite, Alex hasn’t been a big fan of baths, but he likes water — at least, more than he seemed to as a human. He paddles around for ten or so minutes before he climbs back onto the rock and shakes out his fur. John grimaces at the drops that spatter his face and shirt. Their tent is going to smell like wet dog tonight.

As if reading his mind, Alex flops into his lap, rubbing his muzzle on John’s cargo shorts. He looks up, fur sticking out in wet spikes. John bursts out laughing.

“I brought peanut butter bars,” he says. “Eliza gave me her recipe. I might’ve left them in the oven too long, though.”

Alex snuffles at the backpack, tail frisking.

“Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t mind.”

***

The thing about the outdoors is, it gets dark sooner than in the cities. Not that Alex really cares about the dark: his night vision is good enough he could read by the full moon light (theoretically, if his eyesight wasn’t fucked for small type and the Roman alphabet), and he usually goes to bed around midnight even when he’s not working on a project. But John is human, and worn out from their day of hiking and swimming and playing tug-of-war with his shirt; once the fire dies down and the stars come out, he crawls into his sleeping bag and promptly falls asleep.

Alex turns in a circle, settles down on his blanket. Waits. John’s breathing is deep and even. Soothing, in the general mate is content, mate is safe sense, but it’s not getting Alex any closer to rest. He crosses his paws, flicks an ear. Outside the tent crickets chirp, an owl hoots. Something rustles through the underbrush.

That gets his attention. He lifts his nose, scents the air. Musk smell, animal smell. His mouth waters. A twig snaps in the distance. His ears perk and swivel. Big animal, close, sniff it out, run it down.

He glances at John. Mate is sleeping, mate won’t notice if Alex goes out for a quick hunt. He’ll be back soon, maybe bring a share of the kill with him.

Alex creeps out of the tent on silent paw pads.

***

The first thing John registers is that there’s something warm and wet on his face.

He forces his eyes open. There’s a dark blur in his vision; it takes a second for him to focus and realize it’s Alex’s muzzle. Alex noses at him again and whines. John sits up, blinking hard. “Babe? What’s wrong?”

Alex prances in place. The fur on his face is matted and slick, the rest of his coat disheveled. Where has he been? “Are you hurt? What happened?”

He grunts and bounds out of the tent. John follows in his t-shirt and boxers.

Outside, Alex has picked up a large, misshapen stick. No, not a stick — he lopes toward John with the thing in his mouth, and it’s not a stick, it’s a leg, it’s a fucking deer leg, the hoof still intact, and Alex shoves it at him.

John stumbles back with a yell. “What the FUCK?”

Alex pauses, his tail curling between his legs in confusion. He whines around the mouthful of animal carcass; he hasn’t dropped the leg, and his teeth glint in the moonlight.

“What the — where did you even find that?” Alex huffs, and John feels his stomach swoop. “You killed a deer? What the fuck, Alex? How —”

“HEY, what’s going on?”

A bright beam of light cuts across the campsite. John raises a hand to his eyes.

“Excuse me,” the woman says. She’s wearing a khaki uniform and a green jacket with RANGER in bold letters on the side. She aims her flashlight at them, and Alex cringes, moving closer to John. “Would you like to explain what happened?”

“Uh…” John brushes a stray curl out of his eyes. His hand comes away dark, and he realizes the wetness on his face is blood. Shit, he must look like a mess. What is a park ranger doing out here this late? Did the neighbors hear them and call someone? Or maybe she’s on patrol? John didn’t think park rangers did night patrols.

“Sir.”

“Sorry, ma’am.” John gives her the most charming smile he can muster. “My, um. My dog — I guess he found some dead animal. Just, startled me, is all.”

“This is your dog?” The ranger frowns.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She shoots him a Look. “You know wolfdogs are illegal in the state of California.”

“He’s licensed. And — uh, I got him at a shelter? I think he’s a shepherd mix.”

“Uh-huh.” She turns her light on Alex. He drops the deer leg and licks his lips, folding his ears down submissively. He looks at her with wide, sincere eyes. Her face softens.

John interrupts, “Yeah, so. Are we good here?”

“You said he found it?” The ranger glances dubiously at the leg on the ground, mostly intact and smeared with fresh blood. Alex inches closer and butts his head against her thigh with a whine. “Hey, boy,” she says, holding out her fingers for him to sniff. “Well, out-of-season hunting results in a fine. But, since you weren’t hunting… I suppose I can let you off with a warning. Just this once.”

John sighs, relieved.

“But make sure you keep…”

“Alex. His name’s Alex.”

“... Right. Keep Alex from wandering beyond the campsite without supervision. There’s bears and wolves around here, you know.”

Alex coughs. John glares at him.

“Oh, and make sure to get rid of that.” She points at the deer leg with her boot. Grimaces. “You don’t want to attract scavengers.”

“Sure thing.”

“If you want, I could…”

Alex grabs his prize by the ankle, tenses like a puppy ready to dash off with its newest toy.

“I think we can handle it,” John says.

“Then you boys have a good night.” She waggles her fingers at Alex. He frisks his tail.

John waits until he hears her driving off to address Alex. “Did you really have to do the whole puppy eyes thing?”

He snorts.

“Yeah, thanks for getting us out of a fine. You wanna get rid of that thing?”

Alex slaps his paws on the ground.

“No, no, I don’t want to play with it.”

He runs a few feet, dragging the leg with him. John sighs. Moves to rub his face, remembers the blood, thinks better of it. “Fine. Just… bury it, at least? Don’t bring it in the tent.”

Alex trots off to the other side of the campsite and settles down, gripping the leg between his paws so he can better gnaw on the protruding bone. John climbs back into the tent, puts the pillow over his head to muffle the sounds of his boyfriend eating a deer’s leg. At least he’s enjoying himself.

***

One perk of dating a werewolf is that John never wakes up cold.

Sometime during the night, Alex wormed into his unzipped sleeping bag and laid down next to him. His face is buried in John’s chest, and he makes little grunts and whuffs as he sleeps, ears flicking. John rubs the velvet fur of one ear between his fingers — it’s damp but not tacky with dried blood. Alex must’ve washed off after he finished his snack. John feels a warm flush of affection, despite the unsexy smell of wet dog. He presses a kiss to his head.

Alex stirs and squints at him.

“I was thinking we could go for another long hike,” John whispers, “but maybe we’ll just sleep in? I can cook sausage for breakfast.”

Alex closes his eyes and snuggles closer.

***

“Y’all leaving?”

John shoves his sleeping bag into the backpack. “Yeah, I have to TA a class tomorrow and I still need to finish grading their midterms.” Also Alex is starting to get his thumbs back and twisted the lid off the tea thermos this morning, but it’s not like John can mention that.

Thom laughs. “Just give ‘em all a B-minus.”

“Well, it’s a lab-based class, so it’s kind of important they can do the math.”

He waves a hand. “Grades are just an artificial metric for determining whether students grasp the basic concepts.”

Yeah, and John doesn’t think Ethan realizes he solved question thirteen with the formula for quadratic equations, which has nothing to do with the test. At least Ethan is a double-major; maybe he’s better at bassoon performance.

“Are you teaching this semester?” he asks.

“Nah, on sabbatical. Supposed to be finishing a book on Voltaire, but…” He makes a vague gesture. “My best work is more last-minute. Besides, I want the girls growing up in the outdoors, you know? Our lives are so industrialized these days. Is your dog reading a book?”

John glances over his shoulder. Alex snaps his copy of Gibbons shut with a guilty look.

“Oh. Um. He must’ve… gotten it out of my stuff.”

“Huh.” Thom stares at him for a moment, then shrugs. “Well, the girls will miss him. He’s a good dog. Seems real clever.”

“He is,” John says, a bit too enthusiastically. “Erm. I have some stuff for s’mores left over, if you and Mattie want a treat for the girls? I can’t eat it all myself.”

“Sure.” Thom accepts the half-full bag of marshmallows as well as the uneaten graham crackers and chocolate bars. “I’ll tell them you said bye. Gotta extend the nap for as long as possible — I can’t believe Mattie got them to lie down in the first place, their schedules have been out the window this vacation. You should swing by the philosophy department sometime. Bring the dog, I’m sure he’d have more to say on Foucault than my upperclassmen.”

“I’m… certain he would.”

Alex barks in agreement. John tries to imagine a class discussion on French philosophers being led by an opinionated werewolf.

“There you go, open-invite. Where’s the place you work? The girls are gonna want a dog after this weekend, might as well go local.”

John gives him the name of the shelter.

“You boys have a safe drive.”

***

Hour three of the ride back, John makes Alex drive, claiming he’s too tired to focus on the road. Alex thinks that’s a weak excuse for poor night vision, but since John organized the trip and loaded their gear into the car, he supposes he can do this thing. Even if he doesn’t particularly like driving anymore: his new chase impulse means he’s tense behind the wheel, ears swiveling every time a car zooms past. His paw pads don’t get much traction on the gas pedal, either, so he cruises just above the speed limit.

A compact car pulls alongside him. The driver taps on their horn — probably wants to flip him off, the asshole, he’s trying his best here, it’s not his fault he can’t wear shoes —

He sneaks a glance. The woman behind the wheel gapes, slack-jawed.

John mumbles, sinks down so his face is buried in his sweater. Alex returns his focus to the road. Warm, pleasant feeling inside him: he and his boyfriend had a romantic weekend, and it wasn’t even new moon.

He drives them home.

[twittermemesofficial]

Being Alone, Cats, and Children: ery Prety, young, petite lovely markings, happy, social playful gentle with children, dog s cat friendly. housetrained -SPAYED & Ready To boll All tose tine to At Manhattan ACC Waiting Tor Love IA 21555 -2 years old, 42 lbs **** TO BE KILLED – 2/28/2018 **** SUPER CUTE, PLAYFUL GIRL NEEDS A LOVING NEW HOME ASAP! It’s a tough job but someone has to do it, and it truly takes a village and one of the most important components is kind, loving and committed fosters and adopters. The more the merrier and the happier the endings. Young Kayla came into the shelter as an owner surrender due to alleged destructive behavior. Dogs and pups nibble, chew and dig. Its our job to make sure they are nibbling, chewing and digging the right things to keep all involved safe, happy and HOME. Kayla is gorgeous with lovely markings on her face that make her stand out in the crowd, she’s petite at just 42 lbs and she’s a happy and social girl whose said to be gentle and playful with children, dog friendly and lived in harmony with a cat that she was respectful of and sometimes slept with. We want nothing more than for Kayla to be successful if she’s lucky enough to find her happy ever after in these crucial hours. Please consider opening your heart and home to a pooch like Kayla who badly needs a safe way out of a kill shelter. If you can not, then please share to better her chances of survival. KAYLA@MANHATTAN ACC Hello, my name is Kayla My animal id is #21555 I am a desexed female white dog at the Manhattan Animal Care Center The shelter thinks I am about 2 years old, 42 lbs Came into shelter as owner surrender Feb. 24, 2018 Reason Stated: Destructive tendencies Rescue Only Kayla is at risk for both medical and behavior reasons. Kayla has been diagnosed with Canine Infectious Respiratory Disease Complex, which is contagious to other dogs. Behaviorally, Kayla is highly reactive and snaps and lunges at passers-by both in kennel and on whilst out on leash. For this reason, we are seeking placement only with a New Hope partner. You may know me from such films as… https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8HzhOEcshjQ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fJzIV6CL7E4 My medical notes are… Weight: 42.5 lbs Medical Assistant Vet Notes 25/02/2018 Spayed female–area recently shaved Scan negative for a microchip Inserted during the initial #981020021227777 2 years old according to the owner OU=clear Sclera is red–was stressed through out the day Nose= No discharge AU=clean Teeth are white Coat is clean A little bit of blood seen on last nipple on the bottom left Dewormed with Pyrantel Flea Treatment= Para Defense As of now no CIRDC As of now no V/S/C/D Details on my behavior are… Behavior Condition: 2. Blue Behavior History Behavior Assessment Upon intake, Layla would growl and would try to bark when I passed her owner. Layla was brought in with a muzzle because her owner stated that she will bite strangers. Layla’s muzzle came off and she was quiet and did not try to interact with me. Because of her behavior with strangers, I did not interact with her and only had her owner handle her. Date of Intake: 2/24/2018 Spay/Neuter Status: Spayed Basic Information:: Layla is a 2 year old female white and brown medium mixed breed dog. Layla lived with previous owner for about 10 months. Layla was surrendered because of behavioral reasons. Layla has no injuries or health issues and was last taken to the vet on January 26 2018 to be spayed. Previously lived with:: Layla previously lived with one adult and one cat How is this dog around strangers?: Layla is aggressive towards strangers. Layla’s previous owner noted that she would have to place Layla in her cage when strangers visited because Layla would bark and try to bite them. How is this dog around children?: Layla has interacted with children as young as 2 and as old as 12 years old. Layla is described as being gentle with children and playful. Layla will allow children to pet her. How is this dog around other dogs?: Layla has interacted with small and large dogs before. With small dogs, Layla is said to be playful and excitable. With large dogs, Layla is said to be shy. How is this dog around cats?: Layla previously lived with a cat. Layla is described as being respectful and gentle with the cat and would sometimes sleep next to the cat. Resource guarding:: Layla is not bothered when her food or bowl is touched while she is eating. Layla is also not bothered when a toy, treat or object is taken away from her. Bite history:: Layla has nipped a stranger before while she was being walked. Layla has never bitten another animal. Housetrained:: Unknown Energy level/descriptors:: Layla has a high energy level Other Notes:: During storm, fireworks or loud noises, Layla will bark. Layla is not bothered when being pushed or pulled off furniture but has never been held or restrained. Layla enjoys being bathed but has never had her nails trimmed. Layla will bark, growl and bite if a stranger approaches her owner. Has this dog ever had any medical issues?: No Medical Notes: Layla has no known medical issues For a New Family to Know: Layla is a friendly, affectionate, confident, pushy, excitable, independent and anxious dog. Layla’s favorite activities including running and chewing. When at home, Layla has a mellow energy and is laying around. Layla was kept mainly indoors and had access to a yard. Layla was fed dry food twice a day, at 7am and 7pm. Layla is house trained and will go potty outside. However, she has accidents almost every day whenever her owner would leave the house. When left home alone, Layla will go potty indoors and will destroy her cage and furniture. Layla was taken on 30 minute walks each day and would pull on the leash. Date of intake:: 2/24/2018 Spay/Neuter status:: Yes Means of surrender (length of time in previous home):: Owner Surrender (In home for 10 months) Previously lived with:: An adult and a cat Behavior toward strangers:: Barks and snaps new people who enter her home Behavior toward children:: Gentle Behavior toward dogs:: Playful with small dogs, shy with large ones Behavior toward cats:: Relaxed and gentle Resource guarding:: None reported Bite history:: Kayla has nipped a stranger while being walked. Housetrained:: Unknown Energy level/descriptors:: Layla is described as friendly, affectionate, confident, pushy, excitable, independent, and anxious with a high level of activity. Date of assessment:: 2/26/2018 Look:: 1. Dog’s eyes are averted, with tail wagging and ears back. Allows head to be held loosely in Assessor’s cupped hands. Sensitivity:: 1. Dog stands still and accepts the touch, eyes are averted, and tail is in neutral position with a relaxed body posture. Dog’s mouth is likely closed for at least a portion of the assessment item. Tag:: 1. Dog assumes play position and joins the game. Or dog indicates play with huffing, soft ‘popping’ of the body, etc. Dog might jump on Assessor once play begins. Paw squeeze 1:: 2. Dog quickly pulls back. Paw squeeze 2:: 2. Dog quickly pull back. Flank squeeze 1:: Item not conducted Flank squeeze 2:: Item not conducted Toy:: 2. Dog takes toy away, keeps a firm hold. His/her body is between you and the toy, and is loose and wiggly. No growling or stiffness. Summary:: Kayla approached the assessor in the assessment room with a soft body and jumped up in an attention seeking manner. She was social throughout the assessment, allowed all handling, and displayed no concerning behaviors. Summary (1):: 2/25: When introduced to the helper dog on leash, Layla is soft and wiggly when greeting. Summary (2):: 2/26: Layla engages in play with the male helper dog. Date of intake:: 2/24/2018 Summary:: Kayla growled when the admissions counselor walked by her. Date of initial:: 2/24/2018 Summary:: Kayla growled but then allowed handling. ENERGY LEVEL:: Kayla’s previous owner described her a having a high level of activity. We recommend long-lasting chews, food puzzles, and hide-and-seek games, in additional to physical exercise, to positively direct her energy and enthusiasm. IN SHELTER OBSERVATIONS:: In the shelter environment, Kayla has been observed to growl and lunge at passerby while on leash. BEHAVIOR DETERMINATION:: NEW HOPE ONLY Behavior Asilomar: TM – Treatable-Manageable Recommendations:: No children (under 13),Place with a New Hope partner Recommendations comments:: No children: Due to Kayla’s history of snapping at strangers, as well as having nipped a person passing by, we recommend an adult only home. New Hope Only: Based on the concerns observed in her previous home environment along with behavior observed in the shelter environment, we believe Kayla would benefit best from placement with a New Hope rescue group who can further assess her behavior in a new and stable home environment. Force-free, reward based training is advised when introducing or exposing Kayla to new and unfamiliar situations. Potential challenges: : Fearful/potential for defensive aggression,On-leash reactivity/barrier frustration Potential challenges comments:: Fearful/potential for defensive aggression: Kayla is reported to bark and snap at new people who enter her home. Guidance from a professional trainer/behaviorist is recommended to assess behavior after decompression in a new home environment. Force-free, reward based training is advised when introducing or exposing Kayla to new and unfamiliar situations. On-leash reactivity/barrier frustration: Kayla is reported to react to people on leash, growling and snapping at them, and has nipped a person. Kayla may need positive reinforcement, reward based training to teach her to look at you rather than other dogs. We recommend a front clip harness or head halter to help manage this behavior. KAYLA IS RESCUE ONLY…..TO SAVE THIS PUP YOU MUST FILL OUT APPLICATIONS WITH AT LEAST 3 NEW HOPE RESCUES. PLEASE HURRY!!! IF YOU CAN FOSTER OR ADOPT THIS PUP, PLEASE PM OUR PAGE FOR ASSISTANCE. WE CAN PROVIDE YOU WITH LINKS TO APPLICATIONS WITH NEW HOPE RESCUES WHO ARE CURRENTLY PULLING FROM THE NYC ACC. PLEASE SHARE THIS DOG FOR A HOME TO SAVE HER LIFE. LIKE AND FOLLOW FOR NEW CONTENT EVERYDAY <3 for more visit: www.memelang.ml

[goalinfo]

AIREDALE TERRIER

Airedale terrier Referred to as the “king of terriers,” the airedale is indeed the most important of all terriers. The canine breed originated within the aire valley of yorkshire, and was created to trap otters and rats inside the place between the aire and wharfe rivers. An in a position wearing dog, he have become an excellent working canine as properly, proving his worth at some stage in world struggle i. Smart, outgoing, and assured, the airedale possesses a excellent playful streak that delights his owners.

Dog breed institution: terrier dogs Height: 1 foot, 9 inches to 1 foot, eleven inches tall on the shoulder Weight: 40 to 65 pounds Lifestyles span: 10 to 13 years During world battle i, a hardy airedale terrier named jack braved the battlefields to deliver a message to british headquarters. Walking thru a 1/2-mile of swamp, artillery dropping rain on him, jack suffered a shattered leg and broken jaw. Unfortunately, he passed away quickly after he'd completed his challenge. Surprisingly, the message he was sporting saved his battalion and he become posthumously provided the victoria pass for "gallantry inside the subject." the bravery and braveness exhibited by way of jack holds true for contemporary airedales.

Puppies like jack had been bred as a multi-cause canine who had the enthusiasm of a terrier, however could swim and odor prey. Airedale terriers have the difference of being each a carrying and running canine, and these days compete in agility, obedience, and hunt checks.

They revel in existence the most while there is a process to be done, even supposing it's far actually pleasing children, with whom he receives along wonderfully. (though, an person need to usually supervise interactions among youngsters and dogs.)

Like every terriers, the airedale has a penchant for digging, chasing, and barking. He's complete of strength and makes an first-rate running partner. Every day walks and romps inside the backyard are among his favourite sports.

You can not talk approximately the airedale without bringing up his impartial streak. That is an sensible canine who thinks for himself and does no longer constantly watch for path from his proprietor. If you want a especially biddable dog that awaits your every command, the airedale terrier isn't always the breed for you. However, if you are stimulated by means of task, living with an airedale may suit you.

It's worth citing that the airedale terrier is unforgiving of any harsh treatment and could maintain a grudge in opposition to the aggressor. He may be aggressive to different puppies and animals, and has a strong prey drive, which makes him hard to address at times. It's far said that the airedale doesn't start fights — he finishes them. Steady, high quality obedience schooling is a ought to, as is a securely fenced backyard.

Not fantastically, the airedale is an fantastic watchdog. He will guard his family from intruders with fierce and courageous loyalty. However, he's friendly to invited guests in his domestic.

Make no mistake: the airedale isn't always all business — his flipside is comical and playful. He enjoys the organisation of his own family, and he loves romping and playing, tossing toys, stealing grimy socks, grabbing meals off the kitchen counter, and simply typically growing mischief. He matures slowly, and is frequently puppyish well into old age.

The airedale is a charming breed. He's courageous and athletic, fashionable and silly. Many proprietors say that the only element better than one airedale terrier is .

Highlights

Like several terriers, airedales have a natural inclination for digging (typically in the middle of a lovely flower garden), chasing small animals, and barking. The airedale terrier is an lively collector of human memorabilia. He'll choose up pretty much some thing (socks, undies, children's toys) to add to his stash of treasures. Being a high-energy running dog, the airedale terrier needs every day exercise. In preferred, the he remains lively and full of strength during his lifestyles. He is not desirable to apartment life, and desires a domestic with a large, fenced backyard. Chewing is every other preferred airedale dependancy. He'll chew whatever, and should be left in a crate or cozy kennel with robust toys whilst you are faraway from domestic. The airedale is an independent canine, however he enjoys being a member of a own family. He's happiest when inside together with his proprietors, and is not meant to be a outdoor dog. Airedale terriers are superb with children and are fondly known as reliable babysitters. However, children and puppies have to by no means be left unsupervised. Grooming is vital, so plan on paying a expert groomer or discover ways to groom your airedale your self. Education and socialization is essential to train the airedale proper dog manners. If he isn't used to different puppies and people, he may be quarrelsome. To get a healthful dog, in no way buy a puppy from an irresponsible breeder, pup mill, or puppy shop. Look for a reputable breeder who checks her breeding dogs to make sure they're freed from genetic illnesses that they may skip onto the puppies, and that they have sound temperaments. History

The airedale has the difference of being the largest of the terriers. The primary attempt at developing the airedale terrier, even though nobody had a blueprint in mind at that time, turned into in 1853. A difficult-coated black and tan terrier become bred with an otterhound in hopes of creating a properly-rounded sporting canine that could hunt otters within the rivers and rats on land.

The primary crossbreeding produced a canine that possessed the keenness of a terrier and changed into capable of swim and fragrance game. The crosses were known as waterside or bingley terriers and inside 12 years of the primary crossbreeding, the dog had end up a famous sporting terrier.

In 1864, the first canine show within the aire valley turned into held and the waterside terrier competed underneath the broken-haired terriers class (the waterside or bingley terrier call became no longer noted till 1879). Writer hugh dalziel, after judging the canine at a display, went on to describe the bingley terrier as "par excellence... An exceptionally properly one." his comments added instant hobby inside the breed and a cry of protest from its enthusiasts who decried the reality that dalziel pinpointed bingley as the breed's birthplace.

At this time, a group of fanciers joined together and determined that the waterside or bingley terrier have to be renamed the airedale terrier. It's miles believed that the actual name turned into first recommended by way of dr. Gordon stables, who had judged the puppies a year earlier than dalziel, however that reality is hard to validate. In 1880, dalziel again had the opportunity to decide the airedale terrier and noted the canine as such in his document.

The name airedale terrier became not widespread or typically used at the start, which generated tons confusion. At numerous suggests, instructions have been made for both one or all three names for the breed and it wasn't until 1886, that the kennel club in england regular airedale terrier as the professional name of the breed.

The airedale terrier club of the usa was based in 1900 and, in 1910, the membership started out a perpetual trophy that is presented at figure club shows. This trophy is referred to as the airedale bowl and has the names of winners' engraved at the bowl and pedestal.

Airedale terriers had been used at some point of international war i as messengers, sentries, carriers of food and ammunition, scouts, ambulance dogs, ratters, pink pass casualty puppies, sled dogs, and protect dogs. The battle added memories of the airedale terrier's bravery and loyalty and sparked reputation within the breed. Presidents theodore roosevelt, warren harding, and calvin coolidge were a number of the many folks who owned and fancied the breed.

In 1949, the airedale terrier become ranked 20th in reputation by way of the yank kennel membership, however has considering that dropped in rank. A part of this decline is because of the accelerated use of german shepards in roles historically crammed by using airedales.