Furnado Animal Shelter, Friday Afternoon
Eleanor was absolutely not nervous as the entered the animal shelter. There was no reason to be nervous. She was just accompanying Evan -- and his puppy and his tiny dinosaur -- while he bought some pet food. There was nothing significant or momentous about today in the slightest, because she herself was just going to go into the animal shelter,
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He reached for a bag of cat food, the packaging proclaiming proudly that it was recommended by vets and had so-and-so vitamins and promoted a glossy coat and for all he knew, poop that smelled like lilacs.
"And besides, I don't know if I'd trust Fandom mice to be any good for a cat, anyway. Just like I wouldn't really trust my dog to live on bones. You see it in comics and cartoons and stuff, but that's not a full diet."
He put the cat food back and made a reach for Ozzy's favourite, while the dog pranced around his feet. His pup knew the good stuff when he saw it, clearly.
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This was growing more complicated by the moment. At least the puppy seemed to be having a good time. (Adorably so.)
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"Plenty of people have kept cats around the island," Evan offered, and now he was making a serious effort to keep from laughing. "And I'm pretty sure they're all just fine. But if you do get one, maybe you can compare notes with a cat owner? Like I said, I'm a dog person."
A beat.
"And a deinonychus person," he added, patting Old Lace on the muzzle as she gave him big, sad dinosaur eyes.
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She reached over, hesitantly, offering her own hand to the dinosaur, to see if maybe she could pet it. Her. Evan wouldn't keep a dinosaur if it was a known menace, would he?
"You have to wonder if they've ever taken in a stray, only for it to change into a student three days later," she mused.
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