sixwordstories | (no subject)

[Wanda chuckles a little and looks...well, not exactly down...at the huge, shaggy black dog she has with her. He grins and thwaps her leg with his tail.] Yeah, a lot of people I know have the love but not the time. Sometimes I think I should let people borrow Fozzie here for a few hours.

[She digs in her backpack and produces a slightly smudged tennis ball.] Go on and throw it for him if you want, he's friendly.

Animals are huge commitments. You need to set aside a good chunk of your life for them, and I can't do that. If things were easier, though, I wouldn't mind something like a shepherd.

What breed is yours? [Steve takes the ball, then tosses it in a random direction for fetching purposes.]

Yeah, I know. He's worth it, though--he's pretty much what I've got as far as family, he carries most of my stuff, and he guards me when I have to crash. [She smiles thinly and pats the doggie saddlebags sitting next to her.]

He's an Ovcharka--Caucasian Shepherd. They're from way up in the mountains in Russia. They're a guard breed but Fozzie is more of a lover than a fighter.

[Fozzie goes on alert and woofs happily, then bounds after the ball.]

Why?

Guard breed is the best kind to have if you're traveling on your own. How long have you had him?

[Steve waits until the dog retrieves the ball, then tosses it again when it's brought back to him for an encore performance.]

Animals make good companions.

Have you considered making friends? With other humans?

I know people, but what does that have to do with anything?

Presumably something that can speak and has thumbs would be a better companion?

No, that would be a friend. I have those. I was thinking along the lines of man's best friend.

Do you have a shortage of enemies? [He's joking. Probably.]

No, I can't say that I do. [Steve is most definitely not.]

Yeah, I know. I've had him about a year; he's still mostly puppy, at least on the inside. [The dog in question looks like he outweighs her by a good margin as he bounds up to drop the ball at Steve's feet. From the derpy look of joy on his face--yeah, still very young under all that fur and muscle.]

Though I think he wants to be a dad some day. You should see him around small animals. He could destroy them, and instead he turns into a pile of squee.

...except for squirrels. Squirrels are of Doggie Satan.