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A dog needs to be 20 feet away to see something as clearly as a human.
But when Greg tried to open his eyes, throat protesting against a whimper, he could hardly even see. Block dots swirled and danced in his vision every time his heavy lids tried to lift an invisible weight.
A dog, however, is more sensitive to small sounds, even at great distances.
“-with all due respect, sir, you can’t!” said a familiar voice.
Coffee. Donut. Shouting. Chief office. He tried push on his forelegs to get up. He couldn’t even move. Couldn’t feel below his chin. HIs mouth and the back of his throat felt raw. Foreign long things down his maw. Nose felt numb, stuffed with swaths of the smell of bleach.
“We can’t save both,” an unfamiliar voice spoke up, apologetic, “But with our technology, we can possibly save one.”
“Commisioner…”
Greg tried to whine again. His throat barely spasmed. Chief sounded stressed. He had to rest his head on Chief's lap to comfort him.
A pause stretched, and Greg fought his nose to smell Officer Knight.
“No family or any emergency contact has come to claim the position of surrogate decision for Officer Knight,” someone said. “I’m sorry, Chief. As the State’s nominee, we need to do our best.”
Voice. Familiar?
“For what does a cat and criminal, rather, a criminal cat fear the most?”
“-And that’s how his lab got destroyed,” Li’l Petey finished. He looked up to Dog Man, still holding Petey’s paw. “So, can Papa stay with us till he builds back his lab?”
Dog Man kept his happy grin at seeing his favorite kid frozen in place for, well, the sake of his favorite kid in the world.
His eyes met Petey’s grayish-yellow (he’s colorblind, sorry) gaze. In the split second that they shared a glance, their history stretched, unknown to the child between them.
Petey. Petey the World’s Most Evilest Cat. Or rather, the World’s Most Ex-Evil Cat? The cat that he and Officer Knight had been catching and arresting for so long, since they were rookies. The only felon who glared at Greg himself when the cat gets caught, not Officer Knight, whom the police mostly praise for the capture.
They had never talked when he was still… well, Greg the Dog. But somehow, Greg knew that Petey knew what others overlooked.
That he was the one who thought fastest between him and Knight.
The one who always figures out what to do next.
The one who always pulls Officer Knight through so that he can handcuff Petey with his opposable thumbs.
Petey wasn’t like the rest. Even though past-Greg stood on four legs and could only speak in Barklish, Petey didn’t just see a dog.
In that hateful glare of his, he saw a nemesis.
Petey kept his expression schooled, fighting back his ears from sweeping backwards from uncertainty. The claws of his free hand prickled to shred his red cardigan with anxious energy as the silence stretched for what felt like eons.
He hadn’t thought it through with everything that had happened. Who knew that, after everything that happened, and still coming down from the height of stress, would make him think Li’l Petey’s idea of him staying with them was a good idea?
The cat felt rooted in place, staring into Dog Man’s brown eyes, who looked equally as frozen despite his smile.
If he hadn’t been convinced before that the world hates him, this one was Exhibit Alpha-Numero-Uno. He had nowhere to go, and now his child had put him at the mercy of the guy he had blown into smithereens when Li’l Petey was still his whisker.
His eyes caught on the stitches on Dog Man’s neck. It’s official, he wryly thought. I’m a diaper mat, and the world wants nothing more than to take a pissing contest.
Not wanting to wait for Dog Man to fall on the grass and die from laughter, Petey made up his mind. He opened his mouth for the most casual, flippant, no-worry exit line. Kid, he would say to Li’l Petey, Papa’s a grown-up, he’ll be fine. Just stay with Dog Man.
Or something like that. It wouldn’t be the first time he had been in worse shit. (Wrong. He still couldn’t stand cramped rooms where the bed and the kitchenette are in one place.)
A yelp slipped out of his mouth instead when Dog Man grabbed his arm and quickly pulled. Li’l Petey, who’s still holding his other paw, simultaneously pulled him inside.
As Petey tried to get his bearings, Greg gave him a slobbery lick of hello. As Petey tried to get his bearings again, the door slammed behind him with Li’l Petey chattering up a storm. Petey could do nothing but follow his son as Li’l Petey toddled after Dog Man deeper into the kitchen for dinner.
Rats.
Deep in the night, someone wasn’t lying belly-flopped into his dog bed. Greg stared what he could of his 20/75 vision, which was his ceiling.
Petey. Petey tried to be unbothered being inside his home. But Greg, despite also showing that he was unbothered, could smell the nervous but determined sweat from the cat's paws and nose. It was like the times Petey had run out of tricks from his sleeve, cornered, and nowhere to run.
Greg huffed, finally rolling on his belly. His chin rested over the lip of his dog bed. Petey was tense, no matter how much Greg would try to show that he cared more about Li’l Petey’s happiness. And Li’l Petey practically bounced around the room, seeing he was living with his two favorite people under one roof.
Greg ruffed quietly, turning on his back again. Absentmindedly, he scratched Knight's—his tummy. He closed his eyes in satisfaction at the sensation, shimmying his hips in an imitation of a wagging tail.
He tried not to look at his hand. He had to adapt, like he always had to, with the chaos Knight would bring with his inattentive thought process.
Back to Petey. Only Li’l Petey, Nurse Genie, and the Chief could talk to him in sign language. But Greg knew that even if he tried to talk to Petey about it, the cat would do what he would do when he doesn’t have a plan of attack yet—run from him.
Dog Man flopped into his belly again, reminding himself of a rotisserie chicken. (Mmm, chicken. He licked his chops.) Whatever metaphorical itch was bothering the cat, Petey would only confront him once he had a plan of attack.
Dog Man closed his eyes. No problem. He knew how to sit and stay.
If there was one thing Petey couldn’t stand, it was a hostile home.
Tense silences. The water in the atmosphere waiting to reach its boiling point. Yelling. Arguing. Feeling like a kitten again and helpless against a storm that was supposed to be his safety.
Yeah, he had people now to help build his lab, thanks to Dog Man and his (their?) friends. But a building takes longer than a house to be built, and he had no delusions that his stay in Dog Man’s home would be painlessly short.
Petey stood determinedly before Dog Man’s bedroom door. It was midnight, with no Li’l Petey asking questions about what he was up to. (It was his turn for his son to sleep in the room he was staying in.)
The digits of his paws flexed, armed with the ASL lessons he was able to take in the free time he had in Dog Man’s house. His phone rested in his pocket in case he would need Dog Man to type his words for more complex sentences.
He stepped forward, as if controlling a giant robot with his body, into battle. He was fine with being hated. But this… This would be a mess, and he had been in a messy home before, no matter how spotless his mom kept it. Li'l Petey would catch on, just like he did as a kitten, no matter how hard Mama tried to hide it.
Silently, he turned the doorknob and opened the door. With padded feet, he crept closer to the bed. He looked down at the sleeping figure.
Dog Man lay sprawled and belly-flopped on his dog bed, snoring without a care in the world. His form rose and fell beneath his long-sleeved cotton top, his sweatpants-clad legs spread loosely over the edges of the bed.
Petey raised a brow. Funny, he never saw Dog Man wear shirts with the usual sleeves. His eyes strayed over the dark stitches half-hidden by the growth of his golden fur. Petey quickly shook his head from whatever thoughts would form and grabbed Dog Man’s shoulder to shake him awake.
The world tilted into a blur. He landed on his back, all air escaping out of his gasping mouth as the world formed back into solid shapes again. His wrists flexed, and he could feel them trapped on either side of his head by two strong hands. Dog Man’s wide eyes met his, their noses barely touching.
“Rrruu?” Dog Man sounded, blinking into full alertness.
Petey swept his tail against his mouth as he shushed him. “You’ll wake Li’l P up!” he whispered harshly. He let his wrists go lax, waiting for Dog Man to let go.
Dog Man glanced at their hands and instantly released, getting up and off him. Petey ignored the held-out hand, standing up by himself. He patted down his fur.
“Let’s talk,” he brusquely spoke, walking outside the room. Pretty soon, he heard footsteps behind him.
You should’ve asked if you two could talk, Papa, he could hear imaginary Li’l Petey inside his head.
Hush, you, Petey silenced. He could barely hear himself think with adrenaline pumping inside his chest.
The whiff of the cat’s nerves practically wafted past them up the hallway and down the stairs and out of the house. Greg tilted his head curiously, but Petey hardly looked back.
The cat hopped and landed on the top of the dog house with practiced grace while Greg hauled himself up with Officer Knight’s muscle memory. He would sometimes lie there on his back reading a book. But he never thought to hang out with Li’l Petey there.
They sat on either end of the roof, looking up at the moon for a moment.
“I’m gonna cut straight to the chase, pal,” Petey said out loud before turning to look at him. Much to Greg’s surprise, he signed while he spoke. “How do you really feel about me staying in your house?”
Greg watched the cat’s paws move. How-you-feel-me-staying. Petey's movements were slow and clumsy, the positioning of his digits awkward but understandable. But he couldn’t deny that the sequencing of words was better than he would expect.
He wiggled a bit to show that he appreciated that, but then remembered Petey’s question. He shrugged, signing slowly for the cat to see, “Doesn’t matter.”
Petey scowled, thrusting his hand forward with his pointer and pinkie extended. (Oh, okay. He also made sure to learn profanities.) “Bullshit,” the cat said. “Just tell me and I’ll go.”
Greg looked at him with a curious tilt of his head to the other side. “Where would you go?”
Petey scoffed before signing as he spoke. “I’ll figure it out.”
Greg glanced at him dryly. He could still remember the old Petey. In his early weeks of being Dog Man, the big vacuum robot? The way the cat had offhandedly joked in the police car that Greg should’ve let him drown.
“You…” he signed, slow and meaningful, “let me co-parent your son.” Then he signed Li’l Petey’s name, which he had made up for the kitten. Moving his finger on the sign for cat, he swished a small upward stroke of his pinkie close to his cheek like a smile.
For a moment, Petey made a funny face that Greg couldn’t decipher. But the cat shook his head roughly from side to side before pushing forward into an outburst.
“I’m the one who created you! In case that bomb didn’t make you remember—!” He stopped when Greg laughed in a breathy, panting sound of a dog's chuckle. Reaching for his phone, he tapped something on his app before letting the audio activate.
“You didn’t create me. The doctors and Nurse Gene did. You killed Knight.”
Did it give him satisfaction when the cat flinched? A little. But the Chief said Petey was pardoned because technically, he and Officer Knight weren’t trained to disable a bomb, and per protocol, they should have gotten everyone, including themselves, out. But because the building was dilapidated and empty, they should’ve left as soon as they could after notifying the station.
Greg bit down on a whine. At that time, however, they were just trying to do above and beyond.
“Exactly!” Petey exclaimed, oblivious to his internal conflict. “That’s why I should go,” he said, ready to hop off the roof.
Click.
Petey glanced back to see his wrist encased in a cuff with the other cuff around Dog Man’s.
He frowned at him, unimpressed. “Really?”
Dog Man signed with his free hand, tan skin tone contrasting with the blonde fur of his head. “You don’t get to run,” he said, his panting calm and even.
Petey’s heart thumped, and he felt his body tense like a coiled spring. “Am I being withheld, officer?” he calmly asked, eyes never leaving Dog Man’s face.
Dog Man was always smiling. He still was, his mouth in an easy grin of a relaxed jaw. But his eyes, Petey had seen that glow of fury before, the first time he fought him, not as a dog, but a Dog Man.
Dog Man shook his head, and his hand typed swiftly on the phone. “No. You’re a guest in my home. You’re Li’l Petey’s dad.”
Petey knew dogs didn’t like eye contact. But Dog Man seemed to be determined to say something with his gaze. Years of chases. Years of handcuffs. Years of being shoved inside a police car.
The moment broke when a click released the cuff around his wrist.
“And you are trying,” Greg’s audio continued on his phone.
Petey leaned back into his side of the roof, rubbing his wrist. Stupid dog, couldn’t even take the easy way and kick me out.
A sigh caught his attention, and Petey looked up. The fury in Dog Man’s eyes was gone, replaced by a heaviness that he wanted to jump off the roof from.
The night air smelled cold and crisp. But Petey’s brain could only smell memories of bleached sheets and a body wasting away.
Don’tthinkaboutthat.Don’tthinkabouthat.Don’tthinkaboutthat.
“So I will try, too,” Greg finished.
Petey couldn’t get off the roof fast enough.
Back in his bedroom, Petey couldn’t sleep, replaying their conversation over and over as his fingers idly caressed the top of Li’l Petey’s head. The kitten lay curled on his chest, never even noticing his Papa had been gone.
Petey remembered the time he heard the news that the bomb had gone off. The news reporter, Sandy Hate-off or something, stated Officer Knight and his animal companion police dog had been fatally injured with little to no chance of recovery.
Triumph had flooded him then. He wasn’t really expecting it to work, as dealing with a bomb would’ve been a bigger problem than catching him, and the duo would sacrifice an old empty building to escape with their lives. But finally! He could continue his schemes with no meddling bumbling police officer and his infuriating pet.
And it was a successful heist! And another! And another! And nothing ever goes wrong!
Nothing ever goes wrong.
Petey remembered standing there in his lab. He could start his plans to become a full-time villain now. Then… Then…
Months later, Petey had found himself slumped on the sofa, scrolling on his phone, and stuffing himself with fish crackers. If his butler from before could smell him because he couldn’t even give a damn to take a bath, he didn’t mention it. (Or maybe his ex-butler actually liked the smell of garbage. He did run off to marry a literal bag of trash.)
Petey could still remember his thoughts back then. What was the point of it all when there was no one to stop you? Sure, Officer Knight was as bright as Swiss cheese. His dog, Greg, was practically nothing against a giant robot. But together, they compensate for each other’s weaknesses and become an unstoppable team.
The cat shook away his memories. He tried not to think about how wrong it felt to remember Knight while inside Dog Man’s house. Groaning, he sat up, carefully moving Li’l Petey to his lap. The cat looked up at the ceiling, recounting the first time he had heard the news.
Petey was bored enough to count the stucco on the ceiling. Life, he concluded as his brain numbly counted the bumps, is a meaningless void.
The TV continued to blare.
“-successfully saved Officer Knight and Greg the dog-”
His eyes widened. It was like the fog clearing. A warmth that heralded there was something to live for.
Trash scattered from his wake as Petey practically scrambled off the couch and onto his TV. Untrimmed claws clutched the screen as his nose practically touched the glass.
"-by creating… Dog Man!”
His jaw dropped when the hospital doors banged open with a kung-fu kick, and a doggy smile greeted him instead. He squeezed his eyes and opened them again in case he would wake up.
The TV crashed on his limp paws. Petey stared down at it. His eyes widened with realization, staring at the figure’s doggy head on the screen.
He had always suspected the dog was smarter than it could conventionally express. Officer Knight couldn’t find himself out of a three-seater car. Petey couldn’t even believe his own conclusions that the dog could read and obey traffic signs until the one time he saw the dog staring at a canvas of directions and cuing Knight where to turn.
Disturbing, but who cares? That dog was a menace! It was probably the reason Knight passed the police academy at all.
But most of all, it was the way it would glare at him. It wasn’t like how German Shepherds would ease after a chase. Or how Dobermans would rigidly focus on their humans alone for any instinctual cue. That Greg would be watching him from the rearview mirror while Officer Knight is blabbering about Alice, home, and hotdogs. Fucking dog fucking smarter than the entire police force.
And now, he had Knight’s kung-fu body and opposable thumbs!
In his attempt to get rid of the greatest police partners ever, he had unwittingly created the greatest cop ever.
“Rats,” he hissed, claws scraping the TV down. Then he stood up, kicking the trash out of his way.
“Butler!” he yelled, “Ready my bath! I have a ‘Dog Man’ to get rid of!”
Greg stared at the ceiling, unable to catch a wink of sleep. He almost wished the conversation had never happened.
Petey never knew. Petey never knew how he had to go through months of physical therapy to simply sit up in bed on his own. Or swallow a drop of liquid without painfully choking. Petey never knew how he howled and howled on his knees before Knight’s grave. Petey never knew how much-
Greg sucked in through the nose and slowly exhaled it out. He felt his hand, long fingers that bent unnaturally to his brain, and gripped his fist tightly before relaxing.
He never asked for this. He never asked to continue living without his Bob. He never asked to be abandoned by Alice, not even leaving him Bob’s belongings.
Still, he tried to count himself fortunate, things his brain would deem as reward. There was Chief, his greatest supporter in the station. Nurse Genie, who didn’t fear him and even arranged for him to learn sign language and other ways to communicate.
There was a mind doctor too—a psychiatrist. At first, Greg didn’t think the doc had helped much. What could a human say to a dog made human?
But after getting over his initial shock of a dog’s head surgically sewn by each blood vessel, nerve, tissue, and skin (not to mention the bolting of two different cervical vertebrae) on top of a man’s neck, the doctor was actually pretty okay.
“Nurse Genie told me you have training on being an emotional support companion,” the doc had said. “Can we add to that on how you can do it for you?”
Greg shrugged, a gesture he had seen people do and was now able to do himself. If it weren’t for them, he would’ve probably ripped out the thread to join Knight wherever he was. But he couldn’t get himself to even whimper for Knight back then in the hospital, no matter how much the doc told him it was okay to be sad. (“However, it’s also normal to feel numb,” the doctor assured.)
A small smile lifted the corners of his mouth when his thoughts took him elsewehere, like the sun rising and filling the room with light.
And there was Li’l Petey. A bright kitten who made his house warm and feel like home.
Li’l Petey didn’t know either. That before the kitten came to his life, all he had was the job he was thrust back into. Greg didn’t care. He was going to find that blasted cat that killed his best friend.
And found him he did, sporting another giant machine, like nothing had changed.
His nose was filled with his target’s scent. Petey. His sole motivation to finish every exhausting session of physical therapy to return back to the body's baseline fitness. Muscle memory from years of training seemed to be Knight’s last gift to him as he ran headlong into the robot of the week to stop Petey.
It was a standard design of the evil cat. Edgey and big and dangerous with a whirling giant mouth trying to welcome him in.
Greg managed to subdue the bot by luring Petey into driving into rolls of metal mesh, its rotating mouth blades stuck with it like webbing. Petey tried to get away but Greg was already two steps ahead with the handcuffs. He managed to cuff one wrist before claws sailed a little too close for comfort near his eye.
A growl rose from his throat, and he drove Petey down on the ground, managing to hold down his free paw of swiping claws. But Petey’s legs suddenly become battering rams on his stomach, their hindclaws serving Greg no better.
They rolled around in a flurry of dust and limbs. There had been a laser gun that clattered to the side. The cat seemed determined to finish him off for good as his flexible body tried to flow out of his grip like water to reach the gun.
“Stupid mutt!” he heard Petey yell as Greg tried to put him in a body lock, “I already got rid of you! The both of you!”
The fury that powered him surprised even Greg himself.
He slammed Petey back-first on the ground, hands closing down on furry wrists in tight grips with a strength he didn’t know Knight even possessed. Greg bared his teeth on the cat beneath him, what remained of his hackles rising.
“Knight is gone!” His throat wanted to say that couldn’t be expressed in barks or even howls. A silent sweeping break that he no longer was sure what or who would be lost first.
Greg closed his eyes, unable to even bring himself to whine as he turned to lay on his side. Even now, he wasn’t sure if he regretted that at all.
Petey tried to ground himself by focusing on the feeling of his son’s fur under his paws. The anger that Greg’s eyes had shown tonight was the same fury as the first time he had fought Dog Man as Dog Man.
Pain exploded on his back and the back of his head as his body met concrete. Petey swore he couldn’t breathe for what felt like an eternity before he gasped, stars blinking in his vision. They cleared away to reveal Dog Man’s bared fangs close to his face.
That wasn’t what made Petey’s heart plummet.
Dog Man was still. Unusually still. The hybrid was holding him down with canine eyes fixed on the cat's bobbing throat. His mouth was still open, muzzle wrinkled to reveal canine teeth up to the pink gums. A storm seemed to bubble and broil in those eyes that were looking less like the dog-Greg that Petey knew.
He’d seen those eyes before.
Father's eyes. Wild and furious. It happened so fast. The tip of his tail tingled, sending shocks and needles down his tail and up his back.
Petey’s eyes flickered above when he felt the hands holding his wrists down, trembling. His gaze went back to Dog Man, who was shaking now. This was Petey’s chance, if he could just wriggle free-
Time seemed to dilate when he caught Dog Man’s eyes.
Chlorine smell. Bleached sheets. It couldn’t cover the way her body wasted and weakened. But her eyes. Her eyes were still bright.
Heavy. Sorry. Saying she had failed him.
And in that moment, Petey purred. He didn’t know what made him do it. But he closed his eyes and purred the way he tried to comfort his mother in his embrace.
Greg found himself looking at the stars. Bed given up to lean upon an open window. He still didn’t know why Petey purred at that time. For whatever reason, it brought him back.
The rumblings started everywhere his body touched Petey’s. Like a camera lens focusing back from blurred darkness, Greg blinked. He blinked again when he realized Petey was purring. Eyes closed like he was bracing for a hit, but purring.
Quietly, Greg clinked the second cuff around Petey’s other wrist. He saw Petey from the corner of his eye, peeking, still bracing himself. Greg didn’t bother to respond to that. He helped Petey up and led him to the car.
Ms. Sarah Hatoff saw them and tried to ask a question. But Greg only shook his head. Not today.
The ride was silent. If there was one thing Greg could appreciate about Knight’s body, it was that he could now drive. He stopped before the town’s hospital. Petey looked at him in confusion.
“You sure I didn’t get you good?” he asked, filling the silence between them.
Greg simply brushed the back of Petey’s head, and Petey hissed from the pain.
Stepping back from the starry night, Greg went back to bed. He remembered that after he had gotten Petey treated and thrown into jail from their first fight, it took the cat longer to escape.
What followed was an incident that Greg didn’t want to name positively.
Petey walked into a city with a giant robot again. This time, a machine with lots of punching-glove-ended arms. When Greg defeated that, he was already spent, having let loose his everything in a single punch to break what he suspected was where the engine was hidden. (It hurt. It hurt a lot. But Greg didn't even care when he threw more punches and kicks to destroy that part.)
But Petey didn’t even try to run away. He ran straight to Greg instead and, for the first time in their professional relationship, threw a punch.
Fluffing his pillow, Greg lay down on his back with Knight’s hands clasped on his stomach. Petey often never fought after his robots got defeated, finding prison escape easier. That was one of the few times the cat had caught him off guard.
Petey was able to hold his own for a while, using his nimble cat flexibility to evade and punch, much to Greg's surprise. He kept yelling at Greg to give it everything he got. But Petey's stand was nothing against a body trained to fight. Unlike the attempted homicide last time, it felt like Petey wanted to tucker him out.
Greg blinked. He could still remember how Petey went limp in his grasp when he surrendered. Bloody, bruised, but grim as Greg had panted, spent. When he had gotten Petey into jail, he was so doggone tired that he practically fell after unlocking the door to his home.
His clasped hands tightened. He could still remember how he had curled up on the floor, just wanting to shut the world away and sleep. How he had shrunk into himself, panting and gasping beyond the exertion of the fight. A sob had wracked out of his body, feeling like he couldn't breathe.
And finally, he had howled. For the first time since he woke up from that hospital, he had howled and howled for Knight’s departure.
In the present, a small howl escaped Greg’s lips. The pain was smaller. Or had he become bigger? Greg doubted it would ever go away.
There wasn’t enough information to support his thoughts, looking back at that fight. However, did Petey know grief, too? Did he do that because he knew what it was like?
Greg shook his head, not wanting to assume. He doubted he could ask Petey about that for now. The cat, he noticed, tended to escape once he ran out of ways to attack. And tonight had proven that when Petey practically fled from him after their talk.
Morning came. Damn the cat for occupying his thoughts all night long.
Greg yawned, scratching his tummy as he climbed down the stairs. The smell of breakfast pervaded the air, making Greg shimmy in the absence of his dog tail. Petey had taken charge of cooking breakfast for all of them first thing in the morning ever since he had moved into his house.
He entered the kitchen to see Petey in the apron he had bought when he had tried cooking for Li’l Petey for the first time. He could hear thumpings on the upper floor, which is most likely Li’l Petey getting ready and helped by 80-HD.
Petey turned around and saw him. They stood there in silence as if waiting for the other to continue their talk from last night. The crackle of sausage only filled the air.
“Do you know,” Petey finally spoke as if they had never had last night's conversation, “That I never see any ground beef in your fridge? What’s up with that?” he asked, waving the spatula to indicate his tone.
“Too complicated for my muscle memory,” Greg said with his hands.
Petey coughed. “Well then, I should be doing the grocery shopping from now on. Li’l Petey should have the meals he was used to back in the lab.” He cleared his throat, putting his attention back to the sizzling pan, not looking at Greg. “I’ll be paying, of course, as long as I have to be around here.”
Greg crossed the kitchen and gratefully slobbered thanks on Petey's face as the cat protested. After Petey swatted him back into a chair, Greg couldn’t help but smile. Petey was like a treat hidden underneath an upside-down cup and moved around with other empty upside-down cups. But it was fine. Even back when he was just Greg the dog, he could follow that cup in every turn, knowing the goodness underneath.
He was still angry, yes. He was still grieving. But his friends were here, and if Petey would continue to do right for his son, he would also try.
The birds chirped outside. Greg had already said goodbye to Li'l Petey and 80-HD, who went off to play with Molly. His police car was ready, but Greg patiently waited outside to see Petey off to do his shopping, as he had noticed something.
His ears perked up when he heard the door open. Petey scowled, as if wondering what he was waiting for before shrugging.
“Well, see you around,” the cat said, walking past him.
Click.
Petey turned around in surprise to see his wrist trapped in a cuff held by Greg.
Smirking, Greg signed with a hand holding the eco-bag. “You forgot this.”
“Do you have to do this every time?!” Petey yelped indignantly, brandishing their cuffed hands to his face.
For a dog, pretty much everything is yellow. But for a moment, the cuffs connecting them glinted gold in the sunlight.