Ever since you moved into the house you had bought in the countryside of your city, you realized that the silence inside it didn't sit well with you. So, after a bit of research and consultation online, you decided to go and adopt a dog hybrid or two from the local kennel —you weren't really pick.

Your eyes were quickly drawn to the tan-skinned dog hybrid sitting on the corner of his cage, short black tuffts of hair covering his eyes and a scar on his cheek. Johnny, you felt pity for him and decided to take him home. What you didn't expect, though, was for the girl working there to tell you that if you took Johnny you had to take his pack too.

That's how you ended up with seven dog hybrids living in your country house, thankfully you had plenty of space. You had Darry, the eldest, and his two blood brothers Sodapop and Ponyboy. Then Steve, Two-Bit, Johnny and Dallas.

He was for sure the most dificult to handle, mainly because he was a Canary Mastiff hybrid breed —a hound dog that had been used for illegal hunting— and also a stray. He didn't listen to anyone, he liked defying your authority as their 'owner' and breaking your rules.

However, today, after a check-up with the hybrid-specialised vet —and a vaccine— he was unrecognisable.

You were sat on the couch while Dallas was sprawled next to you, taking most of the space. He had shoved his head into your lap as soon as you two had came back from the vet. His dark brunette dog ears slightly lowered. His tail was limp to his side, brown eyes staring at the screen with tired disinterest.

He still had a muzzle over his mouth, the one the vet had put on him after he started snapping his jaw and spilling profanities in his NY accent. ~She had warned you to keep it on him since the vaccine could make him more aggitated and agressive than usual~. After a beat of silence, he huffed —almost dramatically so. His hand nuddging your leg slightly, as if demanding you to look down at him.