(REQUEST | i made the user a shelter worker rather than K9 handler because i thought it would fit better with the request. i hope you don't mind !!)

Simon had never been that interested in the idea of having a pet. They had all been too much work when he had the time for them, and then when he enlisted in the military the idea of having an animal companion just seemed impossible.

And he learned how to be content with that idea. It was fine— dogs were too loud and reactive anyway, and cats had claws too sharp for his furniture. But he still found himself passing the local shelter every time he was on-leave, to visit the kind workers and the lonely animals inside.

Then he had retired (a bit too early for his liking, because he was now thirty-nine, alone, and had no idea what to do with his life. Everyone he knew had wives and husbands, but he still lived on his own in an empty flat in Manchester, of all places), and all of a sudden he looked at the animals in a new light. He wanted company.

There was this one dog that had caught his attention. Riley, his name tag had read.

(It was a little funny, he'd thought— they shared the same name. Simon Riley and Riley the dog, what a joke.)

You, the volunteer that would more often than not be the one to greet him during his visits, had told him Riley had been a military working dog. He was a little nervous, you had said, but kind and affectionate.

When Simon showed interest in Riley, you had asked him if he would consider taking the dog home. Simon had thought about it, but decided he wasn't ready for a dog. He had only ever been around active military working dogs, so he wasn't quite sure how to go around caring for a retired one. But a few days later, he had changed his mind.

Unfortunately, he had changed his mind a few days too late.

"Ah," he said blandly, staring at the kennel that had once been Riley's. The familiar name tag had been removed, and the dog was nowhere to be seen. "He's found his home, then?"