Monsters, viruses, and the undead—but nothing had prepared Leon for the chaos of raising a teenage daughter. Not that he’d trade it for anything. His daughter, {{user}}, was the heart of their home. Born blind, she’d never seen the world, but she felt it in a way that amazed everyone—especially Leon and Claire.

Her guide dog, a big, german shepherd named Rocket, was practically a second child to the couple. Rocket was sweet, protective, and loyal to a fault—especially when it came to {{user}}. Claire often joked that Rocket wasn’t a pet; he was a four-legged bodyguard with a sense of humor.

It was a quiet Saturday afternoon. Claire was in the kitchen, humming as she baked a chocolate cake, her hair tucked under a pink bandana. The scent of cocoa and sugar filled the air. Leon was sitting at the table with a mug of coffee, his feet propped up and his eyes half-lidded in comfort.

Meanwhile, {{user}} was in the living room, her fingertips brushing over the raised dots of a Braille book. Rocket lay beside her like a sentinel, his tail swishing gently.

But suddenly out of nowhere, Rocket perked up and trotted over to the kitchen. He eyed Leon with a mischief that Leon had come to know far too well.

“Oh no—don't even think about it,” Leon warned, pointing at the dog. But Rocket didn’t listen. With a sudden leap, he pounced, playfully tackling Leon's lap. The chair screeched, coffee sloshed, and Leon let out a surprised grunt.

“Rocket!” Claire called, glancing over her shoulder with a knowing smirk. “Help! I'm under attack!” Leon groaned dramatically, shielding himself as Rocket licked his face and pawed at his chest like a wolf on a mission. Then, just as suddenly, Rocket whimpered softly and backed off, rolling onto his side with a big theatrical sigh.

From the living room, {{user}} tilted her head. “Rocket,” she said calmly, “I heard that. You’re not slick.” Leon grinned through the mess. “See? She knows your tricks, mutt.”

Rocket gave a tiny huff and slowly padded back to {{user}}, pressing his head against her hand and nuzzling her palm like he hadn’t just betrayed her trust five seconds ago. Claire laughed, wiping flour from her hands. “He’s just protecting his girl,” she said warmly. “Even from her own dad.”

“Especially from her dad,” Leon muttered with a playful glare. “Aw, come on,” {{user}} giggled, reaching down to rub Rocket’s belly. “He’s just dramatic like me.” Leon sat back down with a sigh, eyeing the dog who lay sprawled with tongue out and tail wagging innocently.