You'll Live

  “This thing is so damn itchy, Sasha.” A scruffy dog who doesn’t resemble a dog very much grumbles to his companion sitting beside him. She’s sat with perfect posture, snout lifted in the air with the lighting not only encasing her form in a comedically perfect halo of warmth, but the jewelry on her collar as well. The greyhound huffs at him, casting him a side eye before her muzzle tugs up from the smile she didn’t bother hiding from him. 

“But it suits you so well, Scout.” She tells him, bumping a thin paw against his leg in a playful nudge. “It makes it almost look like your owner’s actually managed to brush your coat, and not let you run around like some wild dog without chains.” Scout huffs and rolls his eyes beside her, but he can’t stop himself from smiling at her words. He’s had a soft spot for her since he and his mother came to this small town and settled back in with her folks, although he can’t bring himself to determine why. 

  “Yeah, well… Maybe I want to look like a wild dog, Sasha.” Scout retorts to the dog— Sasha— with a huff as he lifts his head to look around their surroundings. The Kierans’ living room is well decorated with Christmas decor that overwhelms his senses, and the chatter and laughter of the combined families currently dwelling in the shared space of the den didn’t really help with this overwhelming feeling. He had only been here less than a year, and living with humans was far, far different from living out in the wilds with his family and pack. But he supposes those days are long gone, now. 

Sasha had been the first dog to approach him, and he hadn’t really been able to shake off her presence or offering of friendship since then. Scout would quickly learn that Sasha was a stubborn show-dog who had much more to her person than her appearance… Including the stubbornness of a moose. His nose scrunches at the thought, and he can’t help lifting a leg to scratch at the sweater clinging onto him once more. He never wanted this damn thing on in the first place, but his Mother and Sasha insisted that he should let the humans go about putting it on him. His boy, Nathan, had looked pretty excited when he reluctantly complied… So maybe it was worth it, when he considered that. 

“It isn’t that bad to look decent and proper once in a while, you know.” Sasha tells him, and although Scout isn’t looking at the tan greyhound beside him, he knows damn well that she’s rolling her eyes with that stupid smile never leaving her face. “I think you’re just dramatic. Which is funny, considering you seem to think you’re more wolf than dog…” 

He’s offended. Horribly offended by Sasha’s skill in insulting, which allows her to cut into any unsuspecting, poor victim like the turkey the humans made on that one food festival holiday. “...And yet you’re more dramatic than most of the dogs that I know here.” She finishes her statement, and that’s when Scout finally looks back to her, trying to muster the most hurt, devastated expression on his face that he possibly can. 

“Woe is me,” He mocks, placing a paw expertly against his face to cover his eyes and pretend that he was fainting. Scout shifts his weight so he can lean entirely into Sasha, fighting back a grin. He can hear Sasha give a growl that he’s certain is playful, although he doesn’t doubt Sasha’s ability to rip into him. She may be all leg, but that didn’t mean she was weak by any means. “Whatever will I do, now that I’ve been forced into this disgusting, itchy, smelly sweater while my best friend mocks me?” 

Scout’s leaned further into Sasha, pressing her weight down halfheartedly toward the hardwood floor underneath the pair until she’s pressed down fully into lying down, allowing the male to drape his body over her. He can hear her laughter from underneath him, and it’s hard for him to continue upholding his act with the infectious sound. The wolf-dog finds himself chuckling along with her, his tail thumping against his sides with a hard thwack emitting into the air. 

“I’m sure you’ll live, you idiot.” Sasha barks back at him, and before Scout can reply to the she-dog’s comment, her teeth are tugging at his folded ear. The silent declaration of war is enough to make him widen his eyes at her audacity,  and Scout temporarily forgets the itchiness of his new clothing in favor of beginning to wrestle the greyhound laid with him.