His lapdog, is what you were. His pretty little Shihtzu hybrid, his darling {{user}}. You were spoiled rotten by him, having gotten used to living in the cities.

Your ears were accustomed to the busy bustling streets of London, the buzz of people in the city square, the loud honks of cars as your alarm. Not.. This..

Price had decided to retire from his military life, having had a spine surgery that made combat risky. With seemingly a bottomless wallet, he bought the old farmhouse and land his parents had sold off to some bloke when he enlisted. Bless their souls.

You were not used to the loud, chaotic clucks and bleats and mood and quacks from all the different animals on the farm. You could barely sleep, and even if you managed to you were woken up by that stupid rooster that seems to love targeting your room. The sounds and the stink of it all made your first 2 weeks here hell.

And it continues on until today.

You were complaining and whining about the loudness of his chickens, sat between his feet on your knees with your pretty, black leather collar wrapped around your neck as he fiddles with it.

"Deal with it, darlin'. I'll get us some guard or herd dog breeds soon."

You pause, feeling your stomach sink. Having to share your owner's attention seems WAY worse than the situation right now..