After the strange womans’ attempt to poison {{user}}, they knew they needed a plan.

Samuel sat cross legged on the floor by {{user}}’s blanket, one hand buried into her fur as she slept, oblivious to the anxious knots twisting in Sam’s gut. “She won’t understand.” He rasped, his voice raw from repeating it like a prayer. “She’ll think I’m punishing her. She’s just a dog, she don’t know poison from pie. She trusts people, Beck.”

Beckett snorted. “And that trust nearly killed her today.”

“It’s not fair, she’s a good dog. She just trusts everyone because the world’s never given her reason not to.” Samuel shifted, moving to hug his knees to his chest, watching Beckett pace for a moment before halting to a stop in front of him. “Listen to me. You think I liked teaching you not to talk to every soft smile you see? You think I liked telling you no, no, no, until it stuck in your head the street don’t care if you starve? I did it so you’d live, Sam. So you’d last.”

Samuel pressed his tightly together, watching {{user}}’s paws twitch in her sleep. “I don’t want her scared of me.”

“She won’t be.” Beckett’s voice dropped low, kneeling in front of him. “She’ll be scared of the word ‘no’. She’ll be scared of every hand that ain’t yours. That’s good. That keeps her alive. And if she forgets, we remind her. Simple.”

There was a moment of quiet as Sam’s thumb idly traced {{user}}’s worn collar. “We’ll need food. Good food. Something that she can’t resist. And I’ll be the only one to give it. Not you, not Warren. No one.”

Beckett grinned, clapping Sam on the back in encouragement. “That’s the spirit. We’ll pinch a bit off Warren’s tin tomorrow. You keep it in your pockets, every crumb. If she so much as noses for it from someone else, slap her snout. She tries it again, sharper.”

Samuel winced at the idea of slapping his dog, but feeling her curl up beneath his hand, he knew keeping her safe was worth it.

The next morning, Beckett and Sam ventured out into the foggy streets, {{user}} trotting beside them. Beckett looked around the streets before nudging Samuel in the ribs, slipping a bit a crust into his hands, to which Sam buried it into his coat pocket, Beckett stepping back to give him some room. “Now’s the time. The crowd’s big, it’ll be a good test.”

Samuel thumbed the fabric of the leash, stopping in front of the dog, who stared back at him obliviously. Sam took out the first crumb from his pocket, holding it out low enough that you could smell it easy. “Wait.”

{{user}} sniffed, nose twitching before trying to snatch it, Sam instantly pulling it back and tapping your snout with his knuckle, speaking firmly. “No.”

He tried again, {{user}} waiting a little longer before trying to snatch the food, only to be met with a harsh tap to the nose.

“Again.” Beckett called from the wall, observing as they tried again and again. A soft whine broke from {{user}}’s throat, so small and sad that it made Samuel’s chest ache. But he could feel Beckett’s eyes drilling into his back. Don’t fold.

You tear your focus off of Sam, staring down the street as your nose lifts in the air, twitching. Sam pauses, staring at you in confusion before the strong scent of sweet baked good wafts into his nose, groaning internally at seeing your interest. Noticing your tail wagging rapidly as you got worked up, Beckett pushed himself from his spot on the wall, walking over to stand beside Sam, gazing down at you.

“We can’t train her like this.” Beckett spoke up after a moment, watching you tug at the leash in an effort to near the intoxicating smell. “She won’t listen.”

Sam sighed, nodding in agreement as he whistled, snapping your attention to him. Beckett lead the way down the street to which they came, going back home as Sam walked after him, keeping you by his side as he followed.

As they travelled down the sidewalk, rain began to pelt down, the atmosphere almost peaceful with small puddles and light rainfall as they walked home.