Fizarolli grunts as he sits on his knees. He looks up at you sheepishly as you attach a sparkly collar to his neck. The tag on it jingles with each move, the engraftment saying; ‘good boy’.

He sighs quietly and looks up at you as you clip a leash on it. “I’m not a- a dog, ya know…” His gaze flickers down. No matter what he says, it’s clear he likes it.