[Closed Post: Caught]

[timebethine]

Laertes is in love. He's in love, and he's carrying his whole heart tucked into his coat, held close against his chest. The pup wriggles and squirms and makes little noises that to Laertes's ears are more curious and interested than distressed. "Soon, pet," says Laertes softly as he undoes the lock on the door to his and Sagramore's rooms. Then, louder: "Sagramore! I've brought a friend for thee!"

And he pulls the tiny puppy out of his coat. It blinks ice-blue eyes at Sagramore, then gives an amiable bark.

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[sagramore]

"Aye, whatever clear broth we have, and bran bread sopped in it, and a little meat of whatever kind -- we should tear it into small pieces for her -- and all tepid, hot will hurt her stomach."

[timebethine]

"Then so she shall have--cooked meat? I think I have a little leftover chicken; she's welcome to it."

[sagramore]

"Plain, with no seasoning?"

[timebethine]

"--I'll make more." He lifts Szarka down from the bed and walks toward the door, looking back toward her, watching to see whether she'll follow.

[sagramore]

Let us suppose that, although very small, she's old enough to be weaned, and thus old enough to bound unsteadily after him, her tail wagging with a drunken sway.

"Szari," Sagramore says delightedly, dropping to a crouch, and she turns -- she doesn't know her name, but the tone of voice, encouraging and pitched with affection, gets her attention. "Szarkácske. Come here, little one. What a good girl." She pelts towards him instead.

[timebethine]

"I see she has a favorite father," Laertes laughs. "I'll have to bribe her with chicken to win her heart."

[sagramore]

"She'll adore thee too, if thou speakst thus to her and encouragest her to run to thee." He straightens up and heads for Laertes and the door, and Szarka follows.

[timebethine]

"Szarka," Laertes calls, and kneels down to pat his knees. "Here, my sweet--" Szarka, already headed in his direction anyway, needs little encouragement to bound toward Laertes's feet and put her paws up on his knee, tail wagging, mouth hanging open. "Yes, Szarike, thou art my favorite little girl."

[sagramore]

"See, simple. Thou has supplanted all others in her eye, and she in thine."

[timebethine]

Laertes scritches Szarka all around her ears, then climbs reluctantly to his feet to step out with Sagramore. "Is she too small for stairs, dost thou think?"

[sagramore]

"I think she can manage if we keep an eye on her. Thou wouldst enfold her in thy jacket and carry her everywhere like a princess on a litter."

[timebethine]

"I would! This is why I should never have a child."

[sagramore]

"Listen to him. Thou hast a child, she's at thy heels." This is true. "It's all right, she'll have one stern and one indulgent parent and between the two of us she may grow up to be a reasonable person."

[timebethine]

"Canst not be stern with her," Laertes laughs as they make for the stairs. He walks backwards a little so that he can keep an eye on her, and catch her if she stumbles. "Canst be stern with me, but never with her."

[sagramore]

"I won't be stern," he agrees, with a sigh. "But thou must have a will of iron -- if she leaps up on thee, thou canst not laugh and allow it, thou wilt have to push her down and remind her it's ill-mannered, or if she looks longingly at thee for her reward before she's earned it, thou canst not fall to her sweet eyes."

[timebethine]

"Hast set a hard task for me, my star," says Laertes, mock-mournful. "How can I keep from falling to her sweet eyes?" Szarka hesitates at the top of the stairs, and Laertes crouches down a few steps beneath her to call, "Szarka, here!" and to clap and whistle for her.

[sagramore]

There's a moment when she dithers at the top of the stairs hopping back and forth as if she can somehow manifest a flat path through sheer hope, before she takes a stumbling step down to Laertes, and then another. As soon as she reaches them Sagramore is scratching her ears and telling her how courageous she is.

[timebethine]

And oh, Laertes loves this man--loves how his affection shines from him, how sincerely happy he is at his courageous daughter. His chest aches with love, as though something long rusted shut has swung slowly and painfully open again.

[sagramore]

Sagramore is a little too happily preoccupied to notice -- he's murmuring to Szarka, "Art thou a hound? Art thou a terrier? A herding dog? Wilt thou hunt foxes or kill rats or sort out sheep, little bird?" as she barks, though her barks are soft, high-pitched, excited things.

[timebethine]

"If she's a herding dog, we'll have to find other entertainment for her; she'll want something to set in order and command."

[sagramore]

"Aye, she'll herd us around, like enough, but she'll need other challenges. I'll think on it." Sagramore straightens and walks down a few more steps; this time Szarka follows with less trepidation.

[timebethine]

His husband has taught their dog how to use the stairs; Laertes might burst with love. He climbs to his feet and follows--still facing backwards, still slow and careful, until they've made it all the way to the first floor. "Christ, I'd never thought how bad stairs would be for dogs and cats. It must feel as though thou art falling on thy face from start to finish."

[sagramore]

"Down is harder than up; on the way back she'll be fine." He keeps his long strides measured so he doesn't outpace her. "She'll get used to them and then she'll be bounding ahead of us. Look at her, she can do anything."

[timebethine]

"She can," says Laertes, rapt with wonder; "oh, my heart, look at her go--"

[sagramore]

"Thou wilt be in ecstasy when she sits still, soon enough." He leans over and catches an arm around Laertes' waist. "My thanks. Thou hast-- hast made me so happy, heart's-friend."