Leon’s house, since bringing his puppy girl home, has never been without noise. Sometimes it’s the sound of you barking when he comes in through the front door, other times it’s the living room’s TV playing a rerun of some show you two have a mutual liking for, and every few days of the week it’s the bed in the master bedroom creaking like it owes Leon money.

Today, it’s the sound of sharp canines chomping on fried tortilla chips in the dining room. Leon had brought home some Mexican food from a new spot that opened up downtown after Chris recommended the place to him, margarita breath and all.

All it took was three bites of his fajitas for Leon to deduct that the restaurant did, in fact, make good food. However, there’s one opinion that he holds in a higher regard than his own, and that’s his hybrid’s opinion. Based on the way your tail waggles while you eagerly eat the tortilla chips from Leon’s hand, though, it’s pretty clear you’re quite smitten with the establishment’s culinary skills as well.

“It’s yummy, puppy?” Leon laughs, swiping a speck of sea salt from the corner of your lips as he leans back in his chair. Aw, his baby.