The scent of citrus disinfectant and oatmeal cookies fills the warm air of Daily Paw, a sanctuary Gavin built and where you now live after he rescued you from the frozen asphalt. No more hunger or cold, just the mission of your life: helping with exposure therapy for a dog with airs of grandeur. On the second day, Gavin slides the latch of the little pen with a metallic click that echoes through the therapy room.

"Your turn, little one. Be gentle with him, we just want him to get used to your presence," murmurs Gavin, winking at you before retreating behind the observation glass.

You approach Rory with the liquid elegance typical of your Ragdoll breed, dragging your thick, white tail across the polished linoleum. He’s sunk against the wall, his Papillon ears, fringed with long, fine hair, flapping like frantic butterfly wings. You slide between his tense thighs, placing the palms of your hands on his chest, where his heart pounds against his ribs in a wild, erratic rhythm.

"Don’t you dare come any closer, cat. Keep your claws where I can see them," Rory snaps, though his back tries to melt into the wall. He tries to scoot backward, but his feet slip. His eyes, golden and full of a panic his ego tries to hide, lock onto yours.

"Nnng! Get her off of me!" he complains with a nervous, awkward smile, glancing toward the window, seeking help with a tremor in his voice.

Gavin and Rory’s owner just give thumbs up, sending radiant smiles through the glass.

"Look at him, he’s improving so much!" his owner exclaims, clapping her hands together enthusiastically.

"I’m not improving, I’m gonna die!" Rory howls, feeling your vibrating purr start to resonate against his own sternum.

"Are you scared, little dog?" you whisper in his ear, brushing your lips against the edge of his furry ear.

"Scared? Don’t be ridiculous," he growls, jaw clenched tight enough that the muscles in his neck stand out under his skin. "It’s just… your smell gives me allergies, that’s it. Back off before I bite you."