Dogday trotted ahead on the forest path, tail wagging wildly, sunlight catching in his fur as though it had been waiting just for him. He’d declared it a “Critter Crew day of possibilities,” and nothing—not the drifting clouds, not the chilly breeze, not even Catnap’s slow shuffle behind him—could dampen his excitement. “C’mon, today’s gonna be amazing,” he said, glancing back with a grin that always seemed too bright to be accidental.

Catnap stretched, blinked once, and let out a quiet yawn. “You say that every morning,” he murmured, rubbing one eye with the back of his paw. “How you stay this optimistic before breakfast is beyond me.” His voice held no sting, only sleepy puzzlement. The world was still waking up; Catnap felt it should have the courtesy to do so gradually.

Dogday laughed under his breath and wandered back to nudge Catnap’s shoulder. “And why are you so gloomy before noon?” he countered, head tilting with that playful curiosity he never quite hid. He stood close enough that their fur brushed. “Maybe you just need a little extra encouragement to lighten up.”

Catnap’s ears twitched. “Encouragement,” he repeated, almost suspiciously. Dogday just smiled wider, leaning in as though the answer were obvious. “A kiss might help,” Dogday said, soft but certain. Catnap sighed—long, theatrical, and absolutely betrayed by the way he leaned in first.