entrancelogs | [open] how much is that doggy in the window? ♪♪

Entry tags:

[open] how much is that doggy in the window? ♪♪

Who: Will Graham & YOU!
Where: the fields adjacent to the vendors on the north western side, around and about the Mansion
When: first day & throughout the event (6/27-6/29)
Rating: PG (MANY PUPPIES, HANDLE IT)
Summary: Self-appointed stray dog piper Will Graham comes to the conclusion that Wonderland's sudden puppy infestation is solved by ~~him keeping all of them~~ safely capturing them.
The Story:

Just when all evidence had been pointing toward nothing nice continuing to ever happen to Will, he starts the morning with two dogs and ends up with several times that by the time he's done pulling anything resembling clothes out of the closet. Neither his wardrobe nor room are exceptionally colorful, the sole offenders being the warm wooden drawers and desk he favors, but for a man that stakes his work and pride on observation, he is easily distracted by tiny four-legged friends that love scratching at his boot heels down the hallway toward the kitchen, alternately dodging other curious packs and coaxing them to join.

Sometime over a healthy breakfast of black coffee and the bacon he tears into bits, tossing them at the pups, he's scrolled through enough of the network to notice the localized trend in Wonderland is actually an epidemic on the scale of the piglet incident. Perhaps larger. The Mansion is awash with puppies and is in dire need of a release valve for reasons not the least of which include the presence of a network message asking clearance to... hunt them. And Dean Winchester's existence, come to think of it. Something needs to be done.

anyone [ various locations ]

Fellow color-damped and be-canined residents can find Will pied pipering his way throughout the Mansion, herding his new fluffy pals toward a newly-minted enclosure outside. They may help, hinder, or quietly snicker at why he's going through all the effort of helping animals that will disappear in a few days, but these people won't understand his dedication to lost causes.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Abigail catches a glance of Will leading maybe a dozen puppies towards a pen that she knows wasn't there yesterday. He seems to have no difficulty in getting the puppies to do what he says, moving them along with patience and ease. She is glad that someone's doing something about the situation: she doesn't mind, but she's heard plenty of rumblings of discontent. There were other residents of Wonderland who didn't like the constant threat of tripping over small animals, or having their possessions chewed on.

She spots that there is a straggler in the ranks; Abigail closes the distance, scooping up the little dalmatian that is getting left behind and joining the strange procession. She doesn't say hello, merely walks with them and waits for Will to notice her.

While it should be noted that many of Wonderland's citizens are fine dog caretakers and generally seem excited at the prospect of a temporary pet, much like proud aunts and uncles enjoy time with their nieces and nephews before returning to their parents, those rumblings were what set Will on edge and into motion. Hopefully for the good of all (clothes and carpets included).

Unlike his own dogs - and here Will doesn't know how to distinguish the line drawn between his and these because on the one hand Wonderland giveth, and on the other it giveth and givether and givethest - they take to instruction well despite the occasional overexcited wanderer and the bathroom breakers. The uncooperative among them are persuaded with bacon filched from the kitchens that morning, hidden in Will's jacket until one proves stubborn, but can readily admit he loses a few in the interim and rationalizes that he can circle back around for the stragglers when he finishes turning this lot in.

Unless someone does it for him.

"Hey." Unable to keep the surprise out of his voice, Will smiles with a touch of confusion and pleasure at seeing Abigail bringing up the rear, a squirming dalmatian in her arms. The usual swell of mixed emotions associated with Abigail do come, but their last meeting must have provided catharsis for both parties since the tide by and large stays out at sea, for once.

Will sets a messenger bag down on the perimeter and holds the pen slightly open for her puppy, leg blocking the highly excitable back flow pushing at him.

"You're just in time for lunch, if you wanna stick around. Pick out a pet," he offers, a genuine grin coming. "The selection is varied."

Edited (more appropriate icon) 2014-07-01 06:19 (UTC)

Abigail deposits the dalmatian right by the pen door, encouraging him in the right direction with a very gentle push, pleased when he toddles inside with the rest of the puppies.

When Will tells her to pick one of the puppies as a pet she looks in, hooking her hands on the chicken wire, considering. It has crossed her mind, since all of these puppies showed up, that she could pick a particular one to keep. She has found, in looking after Freddie-the-piglet, that having an animal to look after is a welcome distraction from Wonderland's less pleasant aspects, as well as from her own thoughts. This morning, when she woke up surrounded by puppies, they'd gotten along with Freddie just fine.

And it's kind of fitting, isn't it? Hannibal had given her Freddie, and now Will is giving her... whichever dog she chooses.

"They're all cute," she admits, looking at the group. She crouches down, holds her hand up against the fence and is rewarded by a little australian shepherd with bright blue eyes coming over to lick her palm. "It seems unfair, just to pick one."

But she knows, too, that she wouldn't really be able to look after any more than that. Will is good at wrangling large numbers of them, it seems, but any more for Abigail would be irresponsible.

Two of the same action with two very different drives behind them. Abigail's appreciation of consequence is fortifying to Will's decaying moral core, and for the actions he's taken to damaging it he's soothed by these fleeting moments of nourishment, close to nature, close to Abigail. Aside from practicality having the pen set up in a wide open space is the open door in the cell that he needed, maybe Abigail did too.

Will closes the pen behind him, eyes warm on Abigail's back as one of the puppies bounds forward for attention. "It's good to want to give them a home." For example, Will's farmhouse full of them. "It's better to know your limits so you can care for what you have. Or, will have."

It's good advice; Abigail isn't always the best at acknowledging her own limits. So often, people either thought of her as an incapable victim, or a capable monster. The truth is somewhere between the two; it's a fine line to walk, but she's feeling more certain, since she came to Wonderland, that she is going to find a way to walk it, in time.

A few more puppies come over to smell her, jostling the shepherd out of the way, but they are fickle and soon bound off. The little blue-eyed one does not. Abigail reaches a few fingers through the chicken wire and scratches the top of his head.

"I wonder if they were brought here the same way we were."

She isn't sure if it's part of the magic of this place, but she doesn't spend a lot of time worrying about how things work here. How food is replenished automatically, how she can imagine a pair of boots and reach into a magic closet to find them there. Surely it's not a sustainable system, it's not a logical one, but the quandary of it always seems to slide away from her. In the same way, she doesn't worry too much about the provenance of these puppies; it's only a fleeting curiosity.

"You've got dogs, right? I mean-" she stops to clarify, "-back in Virginia."

Will couldn't say. It's anyone's guess, but no one seems to have much clue of where any of Wonderland's amenities, permanent residents like Alice and the various Queens, or less than friendly fauna come from. Just that they want to keep as many of their captives around as possible, losing memories and creating them and losing them again in an endless cycle.

"Yes, ah. There's a lot of dogs that get lost in the woods there, along the highway." He tips his head diffidently. "I have the room. No one else lives with me."

Unzipping the bag, he unearths several containers full of chow he threw together once the pen was fully operational. Unable to scavenge on their own or hunt without training from an adult, Will's responsibility for gathering them up extended to caring for them for the short span they'd be here and he can't be sure that magic dogs wouldn't die of starvation. That would be a week or more, but neither does Will want any of them to go hungry when there's a seemingly endless supply of goods at hand.

Each container gets emptied inside the pen along regular intervals with the exception of Abigail's blue-eyed friend, though an overzealous greyhound prods at the solo meal before Will clicks his tongue, directing it away with a nudge.

"It felt strange not having them here at first. Subconsciously I think I wanted to recreate them, but something about specifics makes the closets not work, for whatever reason. Then one night, boom. Two new ones."

"Kind of a good thing they don't do specifics, isn't it?" Abigail takes her hand away while the puppy eats; she knows enough about animals to know that they aren't fond of being petted while they are trying to have a meal. She brushes the dog hair off on the thighs of her jeans, stands up to look at the pen full of small puppies, their heads bent low, eating contentedly.

"It's already weird here without a bunch of clones running around," she elaborates, looking over at Will with a small smile. It's strange enough to her that there are two Hannibals, after all.

Interesting, that it's not Will's job he misses, or his colleagues, from the sound of it, but his pets. Back in their own world he always seemed so immersed in the cases he was working, half-lost in them, so much so that it was hard to imagine him having any other life. But perhaps, she's coming to see, that was only one side of him.

"Can I meet them?" she asks, with a sweetness that is, for once, not entirely feigned. "When we get sent back?"

"You mean besides the evil clones that want to kill us and take our places?" Will offers lightly. An alternate perspective that is an unfortunate reality, on the other hand, but Will has noticed that not everyone has a Mirror, either. They might be the lucky ones. Does Abigail have one? Does he? What would a Hannibal be like?

Will has said his goodbyes to each of those in one form or another. His job, if he'd loved it or liked it for anything outside the fact it let him save lives, is a thing of the past, Kade Purnell saw to that personally. His colleagues - it'd be better left unsaid. Beverly and Alana are the remaining bright spots and one he's strong-armed into doing his dirty work, while the other is trying to use a broken legal system in a rigged game to save him when what that really means is she's saving who she thinks Will is.

So Abigail's question is natural and innocent, though when innocent for her so often means a level of calculation is threaded seamlessly inside it. But she couldn't know.

"They'll be there when you want to play with them," Will says softly, unable to repay her with anything less true. His gaze drops, returning to the bag to slip the containers back in and root around in another pocket. "You seem sure we'll get sent back, and that we'll remember this agreement. Is there someone you've met that's gone back?"

They're precious and there's so many of them. She may regret wearing such a big skirt with petticoats later on with a handful of puppies. It's hard not to be happy in their presence, wishing that she could take a handful and keep them until they grew up. A puppy with a piglet may be a handful, but a welcoming handful. She's had a hard life and a simple joy like this has her the happiest she's been in a while. She's got her heart set on one of them, a rather peculiar boy that has a tendency to lean on people if given the chance. He can almost pass for blue with his grey color and unsuual blue eyes to boot. Animals are easy; she can drop her guard and be a little more like herself.

"Come on," She has the baby hound in one hand, nearly tripping on a mass of them and when she looks up, at least someone has the sense to round them up. That wouldn't be that odd man Mister Will Graham, would it?

It's a pen full of puppies and Alice has one secured in her arms as she walks over just to look. It looks like he can use help, so why not, "How did you manage to get them altogether like that?"

Will loves animals for much the same reason. Lonely as a kid, he had a select few hours that he wasn't spending in public schools (to dubious effect because of how often he moved). No matter where he ended up, strays formed threadbare, exposed skeleton packs digging through garbage for scraps, loping alongside Will on the way home because he was judicious and consistent about packing away portions of his free lunch and dutifully passed them onto the dogs. They were always around. As an adult they are affectionate lightning rods from which Will recharges his humanity when work beats it into nothing.

Prison is a unique hell, denied his coping mechanisms. Wonderland returns them to him. It's enough to gain his complacency for now.

This event is a unique heaven itself. It's been his pleasure to while away hours awash in the affection of dozens of tiny loving yips and gnawing teeth, and sharing it with others that'd appreciate it would only improve prospects. Will glances up, finding his personal pig-name-approver, and smiles.

"Strength without cruelty, mostly," he says, proving it in microcosm by gently helping a puppy stop yanking at a tear in the cuff of his pants and rolling it over to rub at its belly with forgiveness. "They're puppies but they still respond to the alpha hierarchy. You just have to be patient on the walk over - they like to wander."

She remembers her stay in Rutledge were painful ones, of deep isolation where she wished for things like this. The stray cat that stayed by Alice's side was her only joy, who disappeared when she was officially in the asylum one year out of her ten year stay. The cat had likely passed on from old age or illness, one of the two. She's smiling a real smile, approaching rather eagerly than she normally would. Usually it takes her a while to approach others and her behaviors tend to be like a stray cat. As for the one in her arms, he's content with pulling on her hair and Alice only offers a gentle reprimand.

He looks like he's had plenty of experience; then again, anyone can argue otherwise if people really paid attention to animals. They're loud, a little high-pitched, but that is expected for puppies. And expected for the grey weimaraner to suddenly squirm in Alice's thin arms. "I don't mind at all!" She seems cheerful as she says this, "There could be worse things out there. I want to try and keep this little fellow; the piglet I rescued could use company."

She looks down at the pen and back up at him. Again, the puppies seem to be the only mediation, the only way Alice can be sociable, "Do you need any help with them?"

"Nothing I've read says the contrary," Will volunteers, and naturally Joey, Callum, and Daisy are in charge of the small group huddled in his rooms and seemed to be having a great time officiating puppy tugs-of-war with strips of cloth. "Between letting them disappear and making a home away from home cozier, the ballot is already cast as far as I'm concerned."

Far be it for Will to refuse help, shaky as their association has occasionally been. He'd worry about misreading again were it not for her overture, as animals seem to be the sole conduit through which her wariness subsides, much like Will himself. Alice looks like she can handle the dog without his help, moving to grab the bag he'd set against the pen and shoulder it.

"Yeah, if you've got the time. Maybe getting him away from the collective will settle him." The weimaraner is a handsome little guy, in any case, with eyes that just about match Alice's voluminous skirt. Will tips his head toward the horizon in passing, slowing to allow Alice to join alongside. "I saw a group digging into the gardens and thought the Red Queen might not be all that pleased. I could use the help."

She can handle the puppy alright. It's a matter of when Alice will actually let him down to play with the other puppies or much more. In any event, Alice seems to drop some of her guard with him, for now, watching him. The closer she gets to the other dogs, the more they seem insistent that the grey puppy in her arms join them.

"Ow, all right," She gently scolds the grey puppy before putting him in the pin with the others. Having her long hair yanked on is one the least of her concerns, a welcomed problem compared to grappling with her hallucinations and reality.

The garden. Alice pulls herself up as soon as Will mentions it. She squints, her eyes set on it, "She wouldn't be, no, she's always been a fickle sort. However, a bunch of puppies just might be the thing to break that," If, you know, she doesn't demand her roses be painted red again as a result from puppies burrowing. "I'll see if I can round them up, lest she demands our heads in return."

Alice seems to flash a dark, humored look at Will to note, yes, these things do happen and the have happen. Before he can say anything, she eagerly sprints off without being told twice. More puppies? Sure, why not.

Will meets her dark amusement curiously; does she, now? Will's learned not to put a lot past Wonderland's figureheads and while most of the time she isn't actively trying to kill them, he is bothered that the events have a decidedly psychological bent very often. Not risking her wrath over the flower garden falls right in line with his thinking, thankfully.

"Hey!" An arm shoots out, Will startled into immobility and once her form gets further and further away, he jolts back into motion, checking that the pen is secure. Shouldering the pack, he breathes hard once and takes off after Alice, an urgency not befitting the situation spiking in him. He's never done well with surprises, and protectiveness over teenage girls, well.

Well Alice is having fun. And got a solid head start on Will that he isn't going to close without her tripping over a stone or puppy, so he shoves down the automatic panicked adrenaline rush, a phantom weight of a gun in his hand, and gives chase void of any goal but arriving. He might smile along the way, exhilarated.

She is, indeed, having fun. While the events of Wonderland often toy with the mind (and Alice would not expect anything less), she will continue to relish in puppies, for now. She gets up to a small group and of course they're than eager to see a teenaged girl bound up to them with out-stretched arms. She is smiling and she never smiles. As she gets to them, she speaks to them as if she were with any other person. It's an odd sight, surely, to see her speak to animals as if they were humans.

"Let's go, all of you," She's starting to try and herd them over, but she is nowhere on the same skillset as Will, apparently Even that almost makes her laugh. She stumbles, but Alice is far too content to scold a puppy that loops around her legs to cause it. Alice soon pops her head up as she sees him coming.

Weirdo.

"I'm afraid they're a little too stubborn to listen to me!" She breathes; ages ago, that would have been a laugh. Alice proudly gathers up two squirmy goldens in her arms, waiting for Will to close the distance.

Pot, kettle.

Will catches up in time for Alice to take a tumble in the distance, appearing none too concerned over it as the curious puppy attack commences with all tiny roaming paws and cold noses to follow. He releases a small huff of relief he didn't know he was holding and plants hands on hips, stepping around a desaturated rose bush that would have looked lovely under different circumstances.

"They're not the only ones with poor impulse control," Will prods, audible amusement creeping into his voice. "You don't seem to be in distress."

She feigns a look of innocence, resting her chin on one golden's head. They're so soft when they're young! She's forgotten that, they're much like kittens, only a little bit more stronger. They bite and squirm and she doesn't seem to care. She's smiling! The usual gloom that envelops her has disappeared, for now.

"There's worse things to be impulsive over." Much worse. How can you resist puppies. Alice tries to stumble up, with them, being pulled in the process. Yes, puppies will tear at her clothing, she doesn't care.

For now, Alice is just forcing one into Will's arms. This is fun! Isn't it? She almost beams at him. "Besides, how can anyone say 'no' to these faces?"

Fun is such a foreign concept. Why Wonderland can't accept that its captives would be much happier having animals flooding the place instead of weird memory loss, or cravings running awry, or whatever's to come. Prisoners with this much freedom already would benefit from finding enjoyment in their cage. This is rock solid logic, just saying.

And Will is so unused to smiling it takes on an edge of rictus and that's no good sign no matter who you are.

Will is so not saying no to those faces or Alice's, for that matter. He's already forgiving Alice for the slight heart attack, gathering the enthusiastic golden fluff ball she shoves into his arms with a laugh and leaning down to scoop up one that is looks to be the runt of the lot, depositing it in one of the cargo pockets of Will's jacket.

"They make a strong argument," he says, gently removing one determined to take down Alice's dress once and for all and grinning up at her. "Have you got any ideas for names yet?"

They could very well tear up Alice's dress for all she cares, she doesn't mind. She smiles and it feels awkward after not doing it in years. She shifts her attention over to one golden that has taken upon herself to kick her feet as Alice teases her, keeping her on her back. "Oh, I don't know!" She thinks too hard about it, really. "I think names should have meanings. How can I name them when I don't know their personalities?"

It's a perfectly honest question; to her, she won't pick names randomly, not like she did as a child. They had to be perfect, like naming a child or a friend. For her, dogs were more than just pets, they were companions and Alice always felt more drawn to animals than humans.

Adam's policy for incidents that bring out a person's love for cuddling warm, furry animals is "don't ask, don't tell." If a man finds puppies in a bathroom and carries them back to his room in his arms because he has nowhere better to put them, that's his own business. No one is allowed to judge him if he happens to find the dogs cute and lets them tear around his apartment, keeping him awake at night by constantly crawling across his legs.

The honorary head of the household, Cooper, seems to be in perpetual state of confusion over what to do about the interlopers, and that only amuses Adam all the more. The mastiff can't leave his dog bed or abandon his toys without puppies piling in to steal them from him, leaving him to lay on top of his belongings like a large, tan boulder while smaller dogs climb all over him.

Okay, so Adam might have taken a video or two for commemoration's sake... Don't ask, don't tell.

Only by chance does he spy Will's efforts through a window. After a little while of watching the finishing touches to the pen go up, he starts to wonder if this isn't the best idea he's seen yet. They need a literal puppy farm to house all these little bastards.

The fact that he's had contact with the man before gives Adam the courage to fire of a text.

Did you guys build a place for the dogs?

Will lets Daryl handle the pen's hinges to investigate his device, squinting through the glare until he turns, using his shoulders as shade. Adam - it's been a while since he heard from him. The midnight dog incident was a night of infamy for a lot of reasons, but it did turn up some of the relaxed dog-owning populace, conveniently. Adam was one of the ones Will could see himself getting along with, smiling through typing out his reply and perhaps desperately needing a beer sooner rather than later.

Just what it says on the tin. They didn't know what range they wandered onto, so I can't in good conscience leave them to the likes of Dean Winchester.

Adam's last name was Milligan, right? No relation there at all. Nope.

Will in his tighty whities is water on under the bridge, as far as Adam's concerned. But then he gets Will's text reply.

... Oh.

Dean Winchester? What other Dean Winchester could it be?

He thinks there's something ironic here, that he's capable of holding conversations with people who have their own night time terrors along the lines of his own, and people who've been publicly called out as dangerous, but when casual mentions of his half-brothers come up, his brothers who'd stopped the Apocalypse from happening against all odds, that's when his stomach starts to curdle. He can handle suspected psychos, but not a couple of conceited heroes?

Will hasn't yet dragged him into a portal in the ground and left him there, though. So there's that.

He sure gets around. What did he do?

Edited 2014-07-05 18:50 (UTC)

Aside from have a bizarre vendetta against dogs, nothing. Yet.

He really can't account for what might be done now that Dean is all but awash in the object of his disapproval. Many, many objects of disapproval. Will could justifiably dislike the man on principle but won't because disliking Dean for who he has shown himself to be is a much more satisfying proposition.

You seem to know him, hope Cooper hasn't had to deal.

Having his own reasons for disliking Dean Winchester on a life-or-death, cosmic level, Adam finds this message odd, almost a little quirky. Is Dean literally kicking people's dogs or something now? That's a sight better than Sam Winchester throwing people into hellmouths.

From home. I've had to deal, not the dog.

But hey, nobody wants to hear about that time Adam found out he had half-brothers and then ended up in Lucifer's Cage with one, only for the other to give him a permanent residence visa in exchange for freeing Sam.

The punchline tends to fall flat when he tells the story.

About that fence, got any room left over?

Metaphorically, but Will finds himself annoyed at people that continue beating a dead dog... horse over making a point about something they dislike, simply because someone else does.

Oh, good, maybe you can tell me what dog peed on his favorite toy.

That'd be an interesting story to hear if Adam did want to tell it some day. Will might not e able to get his head around actual angels and demons walking the earth kind of talk, but abandonment and taking the fall for someone else? Top shelf in Will's Do Not Touch closet too.

Will shades his eyes to look out over the pen first. Yeah, just getting started. Need help with anything?

I have a few guesses, but I don't know him that well. You'd have to ask him yourself.

Just wondering about that. I have a lot of freeloaders who need some place to go. Are you taking donations when you're done?

Although the part about Dean is good to know and gets his curiosity going, this had all started because of the puppies. As he figures out how to word his text, Adam can at least speak honestly about the dogs. With Dean, he just doesn't know. They're strangers, not close enough for Adam to talk about what kind of person he is.

The first thing that Hannibal thought when the dogs arrived was that, well, Will should be happy about this. He had never been a dog person himself. He vaguely recalls the shrill barking of dogs in the room above him a lifetime ago, that ceased with a whimper and a yelp only to continue no more. Dogs are simple animals though, desperate for human companionship to the point that they have been bred to be unable to survive without it.

Every dog that had come out of his own closet had been lead out the door and sent into the world, away from Hannibal's space.

Making the dog treats had been more difficult than normal with the kitchen invaded, but he arrives at Will's door with a tupperware container of gourmet dog treats and a lint roller.

Knock knock, avon calling.

Edited 2014-07-02 05:31 (UTC)

Fortunately for Will, he hasn't once thought of Hannibal since the march of the puppies began. Well, one thought, mostly pertaining to the desaturation of Wonderland and how that might put a damper on Hannibal's over the top wardrobe. Petty pleasures at Hannibal's expense are a taste he has acquired in deference to his gradual offramp toward the low road.

Lunch sees Will returning for a hastily acquired sandwich out of the dining room, not remotely wanting to risk going back to see what Ned's made of the kitchen until it's rotten food-free. Daisy and Callum look imploringly at him, sitting almost directly on his feet while a grip of puppies swarm and assess the room. Joey the Piglet follows a corgi with dull wheat-colored fur around, having his own adventure with creatures his own size once again until a knock sounds as they pass by and the corgi scratches at the wood excitably, waiting for Will to open it.

The corgi darts out and circles Hannibal's shiny shoes, claws scratching here and there because it's definitely never seen anything of the like in Will's room.

"Hannibal, hello. Things... might not be up to your cleanliness standard at present, I'm afraid."

Hannibal only glances down at the corgi trying to assault his shoes, sidestepping the creature and attempting to nudge him away with every return to his efforts.

Animals.

He smiles, not at the dog but at Will, a god among canines.

"I can handle a mess, I promise you."

He nudges the dog away again with his foot and holds up the Tupperware container.

"I made snacks for your new friends."

Will doesn't quite succeed at quelling the smile that crops up at Hannibal's palpable annoyance, but he massages it into amusement at the corgi's antics, leaning down to chide it as he swings the door open for Hannibal.

"Oh great, thank you. I've had my hands full - no, drop it," Will says when the corgi begins barking and digging its claws into the heel of Hannibal's shoe. "Come on in, I have no idea why he's being so fussy - Ein, stop."

There is a degree of willing blindness that they share. Where Will had been so very blind to the truth in front of him before his own victimhood became evident, Hannibal is blind to the true nature of Will's smile. He sees it as how it is presented and how he chooses to be seen, with amusement for the dog's antics and gratefulness for his efforts. Will smiles, and Hannibal smiles back as he comes in.

As for the dog...the fact of the matter is that he didn't pay for these shoes, and can easily get replacements. He hands the Tupperware to Will before toeing off his shoes and taking one of them in his hand. He squats down in front of the corgi and keeps eye contact, one hand out and holding his attention. It's an issue of control: if you sit still, you can have the shoe.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[open] how much is that doggy in the window? ♪♪

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

asdjfkl; THAT PUPPY

weimaraners are insane, so you know

they should both get along with it juuust fine then

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Let's say June 28th?

sure!

Cool beans. :D <3

<3 <3 <3

And a million years later...

only half a million ;)

YOU'RE TOO KIND TO ME. Time management, what is that...

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject