“MOVE!”

Vi’s hackles raise as a not-so-innocent doberman puppy tries to approach the both of you, a low warning snarl rumbling in her chest. Sharp fangs bare at sharp fangs. Though, your dogs’ are bigger—faster. Stronger. All of the above and more.

No way, was this thing, getting near you.

“This is my owner. Mine!” she repeats, tail lashing as she pads closer to the quivering creature. Daring it to make a move; to lunge at you. To give her any fucking reason to go absolute bananas.

“Stay back!”