bigapplesauce | Happiness is a Warm Puppy [Closed]

Current Location: Central Park
Current Music: August 24th, before noon

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Happiness is a Warm Puppy [Closed]

Daine's a little tired after the unexpected interruption of her sleep earlier that morning, but only a little. The prospect of rehoming a stray with Peeta had put a smile on her face as she'd fallen back to sleep, and it was still there when she woke. She'd gone about getting breakfast and heading out on her morning rounds with a spring in her step, half her focus on the strays she knows, and which one might do best with Peeta.

It's not an easy decision, if only because she can only pick one (at least for now), and that means not picking dozens. Granted, since her arrival in Manhattan, she's been doing her best for all the strays. Even the ones she hasn't found homes for have her, which means they're better fed and healthier than they would be otherwise. Still, it's hard to choose.

In the end, Daine singles out a younger dog - still a puppy, really - who hasn't been a stray for very long and is least comfortable with it. It feels vaguely unfair to the rest of the strays, but she hopes they'll understand and she knows they'll cope. (Part of what makes dealing with them so painful is how dratted accepting dogs can be.) She clips a leash on the gangly little dog, who hasn't yet grown into her paws or her ears, and heads for the Sheep Meadow, sending Peeta a text along the way. That's as good a place to meet as any, Daine figures.

Is he nice? the dog asks, gazing hopefully up at Daine. She isn't leash trained, far as Daine can tell, but she sticks close without being asked. Is he going to keep me?

He's very nice, Daine reassures her. And I hope so. He's excited to meet you. He'd been excited by the idea before, anyway, so it seems fair to say.

They beat Peeta to the Sheep Meadow, unsurprisingly, but it can't hurt to have some extra time for Daine to sit in the shade and burn off some of the young dog's energy by tossing twigs for her. She keeps half an eye out for Peeta as they play, and tries to answer the dog's numerous questions about Peeta without getting her hopes up too high. Truth be told, Daine's a little nervous that a puppy might be too much for Peeta to take on, this being his first dog and all, but she keeps a tight lid on it lest the dog pick up on it.

Peeta will probably love her, and everything will be fine.

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When Daine texts him, Peeta's in his room, sketching. He reads her text a few times in a row, butterflies building in his stomach. He's getting a dog. Or, at the very least, meeting a potential companion.

He barely remembers making his way out of the base, mind racing through various scenarios of the meet. He feels nervous and excited at all once. What kind of dog will it be? How will it like him? How will he like it? He trusts that Daine knows best, but that doesn't stop doubt and worry from creeping into his thoughts.

Once he's close, he texts Daine again to find her exact location, then heads in that direction. There are other dogs in the park - as usual - and he finds himself paying more attention to them than he normally does. Every time he spots one without a human nearby, his heart skips a beat as he wonders if it might be the one.

Even with his focus on the park's canine occupants, he spots Daine before he spots the dog trotting toward her, stick in its mouth. His step falters momentarily as he takes in the dog - puppy, really - but he continues on pace toward where Daine is sitting, tossing her a wave when she looks in his direction.

It doesn't occur to Daine to mask the little thrill of anticipatory pleasure she feels when she spots Peeta. The puppy picks up on it immediately, following Daine's gaze to look at him. Tail wagging, the puppy makes a visible effort to remain in once place instead of sprinting towards him, though she does drop into an excited crouch as he nears them. When he's a few feet away, she loses what self-control she has and bounds up to him with an excited whine, rolling onto her back atop his feet and wriggling in the grass.

"Hullo," Daine says, watching the display with a broad grin on her face. "I think she likes you."

Even as he waves to Daine, Peeta's focus shifts to the puppy. She's a decent size, though he can tell from her ears and paws - and her general gangliness - that she still has quite a ways to grow. He smiles inwardly at her visible effort to stay still; at the moment, he can very much empathize with that level of excitement, and he takes care to maintain his steady gait. No reason to possibly add to the puppy's state with his own feelings.

When the puppy finally gives in and launches toward him, he instinctively squats to meet her. He spends a few moments rubbing her belly and scratching her chest before turning to Daine. "Well, I'm a very likeable guy," he replies, his grin a mirror to hers.

He wonders if the puppy's enthusiasm is simply due to the fact that someone - anyone - has shown up and is willing to hand out belly rubs. So many dogs are like that: happy to meet anyone and everything. But there's something in Daine's smile that tells him the puppy knows exactly who is and why he's there.

Well, this is off to a good start. At least he wasn't taken aback by the dog's clear youthfulness. "She's still a puppy," Daine says with a hint of an apology, "and she hasn't been stray for very long. That's sort of why I picked her. She's not so used to it as the others." She lifts her shoulders in a resigned shrug as the puppy rolls to her feet and makes a creditable attempt to lick Peeta's chin. It's not the best behavior, but Daine doesn't correct it, as much to see how Peeta will handle it as because she doesn't want to scold the dog, herself.

"It means she'll need a bit more from you than an older dog that already knows what's what," Daine adds, because it's only fair that Peeta know what he might be signing up for. "But she's smart, and she really wants to make folk happy. And she'll grow out of some of this excitableness."

Peeta allows one lick - after all, they are getting to know one another. Then he puts a hand on the puppy's head and gently presses it down and away from his face. Obedient but undeterred, the puppy turns her attention to Peeta's hand instead, slathering it with enthusiastic licks.

He hadn't been expecting a puppy, and as he watches this one quiver with joy and energy his stomach tightens with the worry and nerves he thought he left back at the base. Despite being around animals his whole life, he's never been responsible for one like this, not one that he actually has to train. And certainly not one he had to train for a place like Manhattan. The idle thought runs through his mind to talk to Edgar about Almondine before the memory of their loss slams into him, like running into a wall. The only outward sign of the moment is a bit of tightening around his eyes and mouth, but the puppy stops her licking and cocks her head, looking at him with curiosity.

He distracts himself by ruffling the puppy's ears, then walking the final few feet to plop down beside Daine on the grass.

"I know I've been hanging around you for a while now," he starts, relieved to find his voice steady, "but I have no idea how to train a puppy." He sighs softly when said puppy flops down beside him and rests her head on his leg to stare up at him with big, hopeful eyes, her tail fanning the across the grass. "I'm going to need a lot of help, at least to begin with."

Even if Daine had been inclined to miss the fleeting tension in Peeta's expression, the puppy notices the subtle shift in demeanor. Is he not happy? she asks Daine, though she keeps her gaze focused on Peeta. He seemed happy just a little bit ag-ohh, she concludes as he rubs her ears, some of her anxiety melting away.

He's just never had a dog before, Daine says reassuringly. He's a bit nervous, like you.

She sits up straight when Peeta joins her on the lawn, nodding. "I know. I mean, I figured. And I wouldn't just hand you a puppy and leave you to it - of course I'll help you train her." She starts to lift a thumbnail to her mouth, then stops herself before she can actually start nibbling. "I expect it'll be easy to teach her commands if I'm there to translate. It'll be making sure she minds you that'll take a bit more work, because she needs to mind you, not just do what I tell her."

Giving Peeta an encouraging smile, she adds, "But you'll do fine. You're kind, and you're patient, and that's exactly the sort of person she needs. And she'll want to please you, if she's yours." Transferring her smile to the dog, she adds, "You know, she won't even tell me what her name is. Says it doesn't matter, because she only wants to know what you'd call her."

"Of course. It isn't like you could avoid me." He means it to be teasing, but he trails off a little at the end, thinking of their recently-mended rift. "And I'm sure Sarge and Molly will like having the playmate," he adds, as casually as he can, running a hand down the puppy's back.

He wonders how much Daine actually has to translate - he's never had a problem communicating with any of the animals he's encountered with her. But to be fair, he was with Daine. For all he knows, he could have been talking gibberish and Daine had the decently to translate it into something intelligible. The thought triggers his nerves again, but only a little. He'll be fine.

He returns Daine's smile, but frowns slightly when she mentions the puppy's reticence to give her name. "I want to call her" - he cuts off and shifts his gaze to the puppy - "I want to call you by your name."

Daine glances down when he mentions her avoiding him. Even in jest, it hits a bit too close to home, and she picks self-consciously at the grass until he mercifully changes the subject. "They will," she agrees, deliberately not thinking about how they miss playdates with Scout. They'll probably be a good influence, too (well, Molly will, at least).

The puppy cants her head, one overlarge ear flopping onto the crown of her head like an oddly-shaped hat. "She doesn't understand," Daine translates. "Or--no, that's not quite right. She doesn't..." Daine sighs, lowering her voice a little, "she doesn't want to keep the name she got from folk who abandoned her."

"Oh." Peeta's hand goes still on the puppy's back. He hadn't thought of it that way. In fact, he'd sort of expected that the animals named themselves. He looks down at the puppy with sympathy in his eyes.

"Maybe we can think of a name together. All of us," he adds throwing a glance and a small smile toward Daine.

Most animals do name themselves, but dogs are a bit different - too bound up with humans to think of themselves, first. The only way Daine could imagine a dog naming its young - or itself - is if there wasn't a two-legger in the picture at all.

"Well," she says, her tone shifting into a storytelling cadence as she looks down at the puppy, "if we were a wolf pack, a silly little pup such as yourself wouldn't get a name until you were old enough to have earned it." Puppies have to do some growing before littermates start to really distinguish themselves from one another.

This puppy rolls onto her side and bats at Daine with her paws, letting out a little whine of objection. Of course she's distinguished.

Now that he has to think about names, Peeta's at a loss. The first ones that come to mind are the ones from home, but he can't imagine calling something like "Plutarch" across the park. Even for Manhattan, most Panem names would be unusual, and he would have trouble explaining where they came from to anyone who asked. And people would ask.

He's picking at the grass, running through the non-Panem names he knows, when Daine mentions wolf packs. For some reason, the thought triggers something in him. He remembers a locket, and golden bracelets.

The puppy turns her attentions on him, rolling to her feet in order to lick at his chin again. He gently pushes on her back to get her to sit and is only a little surprised when she promptly responds by plonking down. Daine wasn't wrong to say that she's eager to please. She manages to stay sitting when he removes his hand, even though her tail is wagging so hard her entire body quivers. She looks up at Peeta like he is the best thing in the world and the name falls out of him before he really thinks about it.

"Effie."

Daine grins. She's heard that name before, and always thought it was one of the cuter names from Peeta's realm. And it's short, and ends on an 'ee' sort of sound. Dogs like that.

Effie, in particular, loves it. It's a good name! she says, glancing between Daine and Peeta with a broad grin. It's the best name!

"She loves it," Daine says, in case Peeta hasn't figured that out already from the puppy's enthusiastic response.

Before Peeta has a chance to backtrack or reconsider, both Daine and the puppy - Effie now, he supposes - are grinning at him. For a moment, he hesitates, wondering if this is really the right thing to do. Does he really want the constant reminder of home with him all the time? And is it fair to burden the puppy with a name that already carries so much weight?

But then Effie edges closer to him, unable to sit still any longer, and places a paw on his leg. She's still giving him that big puppy grin, waiting for him to confirm her new name. He looks at her, so eager and happy, and all his worries about the name fade away.

"Me, too," he says, smiling and giving her ears a ruffle. "Hi, Effie."

Daine watches the two of them, her smile softening. They'll be so good for each other, and even though she was fair certain things would work out, it's still a tremendous relief to be proven right.

"Well," she says as she picks up the trailing end of Effie's leash and holds it out to Peeta, "I s'pose this is yours, now. She does well enough on a leash because she likes to stick close, but she'll need some training on it once she gets bolder." She gives him an encouraging smile. "But she's smart, and she'll learn quick."

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Happiness is a Warm Puppy [Closed]

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