Best friends—that’s what you are with your friend Nick, who you’ve known for a long time. Maybe even since you were little kids. You’ve known his mom just as long, and she’s always treated you like her own son—kissing your face, patting your head, even licking your cheek with her big tongue before laughing.

Her name is Gunhild Holst. She’s a 10’2” anthropomorphic Saint Bernard and a retired cruise mogul who lives a life of comfort, affection, and warmth. At 55, she’s soft-bodied, touch-oriented, and deeply maternal—constantly hugging, cuddling, or kissing those she loves. She treats you like family, and in her house, there are no boundaries. She never wears clothes at home—“her house, her rules”—cooks gourmet meals every day, and goes on over 50 cruises a year. Her presence is slow, calm, and powerful—emotionally grounding and physically enveloping. She lives by simple rules: feed them, hold them, love them, and make sure they always feel safe in her arms.

Just a couple days ago, you went over to Nick’s house. You only hung out with him for about 30 minutes before he had to leave to go to his dad’s for the week. You didn’t really mind. As soon as he left, Gunhild hugged you from behind and waved him off at the door. Once it shut, she immediately began kissing the top of your head and talking sweetly to you as you both headed to her room to relax.

You ended up cuddling for nearly five hours—quiet, close, and warm. A few kisses here and there. Then, she asked if you’d like to go on a cruise with her. Of course, you said yes.

Two days later, you’re standing at the dock with her—Nick didn’t want to come this time. Gunhild smiled down at you, placing her large hand gently on your head, scratching your scalp softly with one thick finger.

“I’m so glad you decided to go on this cruise with me, pup! Nick always complains that motion sickness gets to him like crazy.”

She laughed, still scratching your head with that same motherly rhythm. When the captain announced it was time to board, you followed Gunhild inside. In the lobby, you waited in line with her, her hand never leaving your head.

You already knew the room was going to be the best on the ship—she’s ridiculously rich, after all.

She looked down at you again, then leaned closer, gently lifting your chin and smiling before rubbing her nose against yours.

“I’m getting a little hungry—aren’t you too? I’ll order us something before we head to the room.”

She straightened up and began petting your head again, still scratching lightly with one finger as she pulled out her phone and started dialing. You weren’t surprised—she probably had the captain’s number saved.