everyone wants a dog for christmas!
WHO: Alfred and Harlock!
Where: Out in front of a stranger's residence, somewhere! I don't know where!
DATE: Sunday, December...tomorrow in 1935terms, I don't know. :<
WARNINGS: DOGGIES.
SUMMARY: Alfred suggests a nice person to take care of the dog Harlock found and they get to the giving.
STATUS: Drooling, maybe fleas.
Folks got good reason to not pin me as the charity type. It's not something I do much of, much less openly. More than that, it'd be a bit odd for most regular folks if a scruffy-looking fellow up and came to their stoop with anything--let alone a living, breathing animal. But this was hardly about appearances; I can't take much proper care of a dog, especially one as old as the one that'd taken to following me about. Buster needs warmer places to sleep in than Deathshadow's back seat.
Crazy or not, one of the fellows in that mystery book that also takes to following me around suggested a suitable caretaker. There's not much reason to believe a claim on paper without a face to back it up, but I agreed to meet up anyhow. Worst that could happen is that he'd turn out to be a liar and I'd just have to drive off.
The street looked pretty clean, though. That's always as good a start as any. I pulled over next to a curb and cut the engine--could've sworn Shadow gave a bit of a last grunt at the gent passing by for staring. Not a whole lot of stock cars in the north.
A watch'd be a pretty good investment, I figured, climbing out and peering down either end of the street for some public timepiece. It had to be a bit before two, for sure--I just wasn't show of how much.
Damn, cold, too. I shouldered against the chill by folding my arms up tight and propping against Deathshadow's door. Buster stayed inside, hardly even getting up to find out where we were and why.
"Not long now," I said aloud. If all went well, he'd be warm soon.
Where: Out in front of a stranger's residence, somewhere! I don't know where!
DATE: Sunday, December...tomorrow in 1935terms, I don't know. :<
WARNINGS: DOGGIES.
SUMMARY: Alfred suggests a nice person to take care of the dog Harlock found and they get to the giving.
STATUS: Drooling, maybe fleas.
Folks got good reason to not pin me as the charity type. It's not something I do much of, much less openly. More than that, it'd be a bit odd for most regular folks if a scruffy-looking fellow up and came to their stoop with anything--let alone a living, breathing animal. But this was hardly about appearances; I can't take much proper care of a dog, especially one as old as the one that'd taken to following me about. Buster needs warmer places to sleep in than Deathshadow's back seat.
Crazy or not, one of the fellows in that mystery book that also takes to following me around suggested a suitable caretaker. There's not much reason to believe a claim on paper without a face to back it up, but I agreed to meet up anyhow. Worst that could happen is that he'd turn out to be a liar and I'd just have to drive off.
The street looked pretty clean, though. That's always as good a start as any. I pulled over next to a curb and cut the engine--could've sworn Shadow gave a bit of a last grunt at the gent passing by for staring. Not a whole lot of stock cars in the north.
A watch'd be a pretty good investment, I figured, climbing out and peering down either end of the street for some public timepiece. It had to be a bit before two, for sure--I just wasn't show of how much.
Damn, cold, too. I shouldered against the chill by folding my arms up tight and propping against Deathshadow's door. Buster stayed inside, hardly even getting up to find out where we were and why.
"Not long now," I said aloud. If all went well, he'd be warm soon.