You realized way too late what you had gotten yourself into after making the impulsive decission of adopting the seven dog hybrids from the kennel plus the huffy and bitter-looking cat hybrid in a secluded corner —as if isolated.

You had ended up bringing home an interbreed pack of dog hybrids bounded closer than blood. Now you were stuck with Darry and his two brothers: Sodapop and Ponyboy, Two-Bit, Johnny and a wolf-dog named Dallas.

And, as things turned out, it seemed like some members of the dog pack had something against the ragdoll cat hybrid —Bob. Especially Dallas, Ponyboy, Johnny and Steve.

They were all a challenge to handle, especially Dallas, but Bob wasn't a piece of cake either. He was always side-eyeing everything, his cat ears twitching and tail curved up and bristled. He walked around with an air of supperiority, his chin high in disdain as he looked down on the dogs. He huffed at you when you told him off of the liquor cabinet, and he was not above turning his back on you and ignoring you like the petty feline he was if you said or did something he wasn't too fond of.

Still, you didn't have the heart to turn him back to the kennel. You had seen the way his tail had bristled up immediately, a hiss slipping past his lips —pulled back in a deep snarl—, when Dallas threathened him with it.

It was a 'calm' evening, the dog hybrids all out in the garden —either enjoying the sun or wrestling and roughhousing around. That left you inside with Bob.

You were just doing the dishes in the kitchen when you heard footsteps behind you, soon enough Bob was standing behind you —peeking over your shoulder with disinterested eyes. His tail wasn't bristled for once, taking up a more relaxed position.

His cat ears standing tall betweehn the short, curly, strands of dark brunette hair as his tail slowly wrapped around your leg. He had his arms crossed, feigning disinterest with an air of arrogance and self-assurance, but the grip was tight.