She doesn't think she'll get bored of throwing the ball for Oscar anytime soon, because he certainly looks thrilled like it's the best thing he's done all day, but the tennis ball is getting kind of slobbery, and Coraline wishes she'd worn her gloves.

"Paint?" The girl cocks her head, squinting. "You can paint on dogs?" That's new. She'd seen some poodles dyed pink once in a magazine before, with ridiculous haircuts, their fur like cotton candy... and she'd wound up feeling a strange sort of secondhand embarassment for them.

"...That's sad." She remarks a little softer, at the thought of a world with not many cats left in it. "Did they all get spayed?"