don't ever gift pets

Bourbon wasn’t much a fan of raccoons, they were more fun to chase than they were to make friends with. Bitey little thieves is what they were, but the dog wouldn’t express any of those opinions as he was given the coon’s name and what she looked like. He just nodded politely as she told him where she slept before leading him in that direction. He followed behind, tail level with his ankles and his tongue panting slightly as he took in the homey den.

Little crevices for herbs were everywhere, and he could smell all the different herbs in their varying states as he walked. Bourbon was shown his mistress’s chambers, an odd little alcove surrounded by shallow spring water. The dog tilted his head as he peered at her nest curiously. As she spoke he was brought back to her unconscious movements earlier, her fitful sleep until he walked in and lay beside her. Would she welcome him beside her there?

”Sleeping next to ice might not be the best choice,” he advised while not adding what he wanted to say. He watched her walk across the water, and Bourbon kept his diamond gaze upon her. He’d wait for her to ask for his presence, while not looking too hopeful. With perked tail and expectant ears he tilted his head and waited for her command to be dismissed or invited.