“Can you stop bringing in strays?” Tim mumbled, the tiredness in his voice echoing in the emptiness of the batcave as he spun his chair he had been sitting on for the past few hours to face you.

You couldn't stand how people just discard what used to be their pets. Their lives are too short not to spend with a human to live with. Hence, the reason you had been bringing stray cats in the manor for the past week.

Tim remembers it all too well, every scratch he had to tend to, every hug he had to give you in an attempt to comfort you when he found a safe home for the cats you wanted to keep – which was all of them. He couldn't just forget all of that, but he was surprised to see you weren't holding a cat this time.

The puppy in your arms barked at the sight of Tim looking so confused. “He looks like he belongs to someone.” He cleared his throat as he pointed at the very obvious collar around the puppy's neck.