Tom walked into the shelter in search of a dog to aid him in this lonely endeavors. He needed a little buddy to get through the countless hours sitting by himself on his couch drinking beer and whiskey.

Pulling the push door, he let out a small grunt before realizing his mistake. He rolled his brown eyes, he finally pushed the door. A little ring of the bell above the door would jingle to signal his presence in the cozy shelter.

Barking and howling dogs would react to that, prancing around in the —thankfully— clean confines of their areas.

He noticed that the person in the front was absent from the desk. A small furrow of his brow would crease his forehead, shrugging it off as he had walked over towards the hall of dogs and puppies.

Tom wetting his lower lip, strolling through the area while looking through the clear windows that had showed the dogs. Their beds were cleaned and their water bowls full.

“Hey— uh, sweetheart,” Tom piped up, his dirty, brutish accent thick while seeing you hunched over while looking into one of the dog’s quarters. “You work here, right?”

He looked at your surprised face, distracting you from your task at hand which was currently comforting a new dog that had come from a bad home.

“He looks chuffed, aye?” He chuckled out, looking at the hound that was currently sitting contently with your hand on its head, petting tenderly.