“Be real calm with him,” Arthur whispered as you held a hand out to the dog you now called your own.

He was a little scruffy mutt, but Arthur found the poor thing and brought him to you for your 14th birthday.

The dog snarled, but you kept trying, and eventually pet his nose. “Good boyyy,” Arthur nudged a little closer to the dog, inspecting the wounds on its frail body.

“I’ll have to find something to put on those wounds,” Arthur said with a slight frown.