HEY, BULLDOG
Who: wishgrant and atrumcanis!
When: afternoon of Tuesday, 12 April
Where: the lawn of that gigantic phancy mansion
Summary: A dog and a kid and the great outdoors and a load of general cheerfulness! The worst thing that could happen is that Padfoot might eat a bee or something.
Padfoot had never been here before--"here" being beyond some fence. The fence was what had prevented him in the past. Not that he couldn't work past a fence--he could, clearly, as he was inside right now. There wasn't a fence in the world that could outsmart him. No, it was more the effort that had prevented him. It wasn't worth it, to wriggle through fences, but today, he'd been chasing a squirrel and had found himself here--wherever here was.
There was something of a familiar smell to it, but he couldn't quite place why--so, heedless, having lost track of his squirrel, he trotted toward a particularly sunny patch of grass. Everything was just beginning to go green, the warmth of spring finally permeating the gray dome of winter. That meant that there were small and new things to chase, and bugs to eat, and grass to roll about in--and it was the last of these options that Padfoot took now, throwing himself into the grass and rolling briskly back and forth a few times. His paws twitched a little and he heaved a huge sigh, letting himself relax.
He perked up after a second--someone was quite close by!--but he didn't rouse himself any more than a pricking of his ears. Whoever it was, they would either chase him away or not notice him, and either option would prove entertaining. A chase was good--being ignored meant that he could stay right here--and he wriggled against the grass with a happy little gnarrrr, somewhere between a yap and a bark. He'd let himself be chased, if he could pry himself away from this sunny patch.
When: afternoon of Tuesday, 12 April
Where: the lawn of that gigantic phancy mansion
Summary: A dog and a kid and the great outdoors and a load of general cheerfulness! The worst thing that could happen is that Padfoot might eat a bee or something.
Padfoot had never been here before--"here" being beyond some fence. The fence was what had prevented him in the past. Not that he couldn't work past a fence--he could, clearly, as he was inside right now. There wasn't a fence in the world that could outsmart him. No, it was more the effort that had prevented him. It wasn't worth it, to wriggle through fences, but today, he'd been chasing a squirrel and had found himself here--wherever here was.
There was something of a familiar smell to it, but he couldn't quite place why--so, heedless, having lost track of his squirrel, he trotted toward a particularly sunny patch of grass. Everything was just beginning to go green, the warmth of spring finally permeating the gray dome of winter. That meant that there were small and new things to chase, and bugs to eat, and grass to roll about in--and it was the last of these options that Padfoot took now, throwing himself into the grass and rolling briskly back and forth a few times. His paws twitched a little and he heaved a huge sigh, letting himself relax.
He perked up after a second--someone was quite close by!--but he didn't rouse himself any more than a pricking of his ears. Whoever it was, they would either chase him away or not notice him, and either option would prove entertaining. A chase was good--being ignored meant that he could stay right here--and he wriggled against the grass with a happy little gnarrrr, somewhere between a yap and a bark. He'd let himself be chased, if he could pry himself away from this sunny patch.