A blanket was spread out on the grassy field of the park, marking the territory that would yours and Curly’s for the afternoon— as well as the pup you both had.

Laika, a sweet little dog that was named in honor of the poor stray that had died from overheating alone in the Soviet spacecraft Sputnik 2.

Curly took that poor dog’s death to heart, given that he had heard about it a few days after it had happened when he was younger. That being said, he made sure to treat Laika with utmost care and love.

“Here, puppy,” he uttered out, gently handing the little pup a bone that he made sure wasn’t rawhide. He laid on his belly, kicking his legs as he watched her bite and gnaw on her treat.

A sigh left his lips as he leaned hi head against your knee, looking up at you before reaching for a strawberry he had dipped in whipped cream.

“Here,” he mumbled, smearing the sweetness on your lips to get your attention as you looked off somewhere in the distance.

When you took it from his fingers, a smile crossed his lips as he immediately went up to kiss you without giving you time to prepare. When he pulled back, whipped cream would be on his lips now as well.

The redness on your face reflected the fruit that he had fed you moments before, a chuckle leaving his chest as he licked the topping off of his lips.

“You’re funny,” he said, putting his arm around you as he guided your head to lean on his shoulder. His palm cupped your own shoulder, squeezing it. “You wanna get out the sandwiches soon? It’s almost 1.”

You two had already been there for a little while now, but Curly was already hungry despite just having a few strawberries.