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[le_traiteur]

I can't claim to have ever considered myself much of a dog person. Seems like you gotta be one or the other -- Dog or cat person -- and I guess I would have chosen cat had it to come to it. We had dogs at home the way everybody had dogs, but cats are more self-sufficient. They need less. When you're a teenage boy pretendin' at bein' the man of

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[whats_insideyou]

Dogs have not been a prominent fixture in little Matthieu's young life. Not for any real reason, aside from Sarah's firm position as a cat person. The Hamlet was, in fact, full of the beasts, but now that he was ambulatory and in his mother's soul care, seeing one up close and personal was a very new and startling event.

He wasn't a skilled walker, but he's toddler a few feet ahead of his mother, and was now standing frozen and gaping, staring at the fuzzy thing making its way toward him.

The dog was bug-eyed and dome-headed and floppy eared. All it needed was a bow around it's neck and a little girl with ringlets to carry it in her arms. Sarah's lips twitched into a smirk. "Are you not even the least bit embarrassed?"

[le_traiteur]

"Dee," I call, warning creeping into my tone. She's never been around babies before, I want her on her very best behavior. Thankfully, she doesn't do anything more offensive than give Matthieu an enthusiastic lick to the face, her back end fit to wag right off.

"Embarrassed by what?" I ask when I'm finally close enough to stop, although I've got a good enough idea of what Sarah means.

[whats_insideyou]

She arched a brow and let the question hang, feeling it needed no answer. Matthieu let out a startled squeak, his chubby face scrunching up and his arms flailing as he dropped down onto his bottom. Sarah dropped into a crouch, brushing a hand over her son's black hair, soothing him before he could start to cry.

"At least she is not wearing a bow."

[le_traiteur]

"If she was, she'd look beautiful in it," I insist with a smirk, and then address the puppy, who's still enamored of the baby. "Isn't that right, cher?" Dee looks up at me, head dropped back, tongue lolling out of her mouth. "You're a real piece of work."

[whats_insideyou]

She snorted out a laugh, holding onto the back of Matthieu's shirt to keep him at a distance while he reached out and patted the dog clumsily on the head.

"She's yours?"

[le_traiteur]

"Mais oui," I reply, and with the way Dee has leaned back against my leg, it's like she knows what we're sayin'. "A gift of a sort. Joe's dog had puppies awhile back, he thought I needed to have one." I guess it was the thought that counted, and Dee was far from being the worst dog on the island.

[whats_insideyou]

"How generous," she murmured, her voice still practically dripping with amusement.

"I always had cats."