You watched intently as Dutch read a book, his lips pursed together in a fine, focused line. With a flick of his wrist, and a gesture with his finger — he called you closer.

“Pup, come here.” He mumbled, finally turning to meet your gaze, “You did good earlier. Protectin’ me from those O’Driscolls.” Dutch praised you, a proud smirk upon his face.

You nodded and smiled. His praise always meant a job well done. And you wouldn’t work any other job than being his guard dog.