You’d just gotten home. Long shift, sore feet, and all you wanted was to crash on the couch.
Instead, you found a box.
On your doorstep.
Inside, a puppy. Brown Belgian Malinois, big paws for a little guy—maybe four months old. He looked up at you with these huge, dark eyes, head tilted, ears not quite standing up yet.
And you, being you, took him in. Got him dewormed. Fed him. Bathed him. Gave him a name.
A few days passed. He was a good dog. Quiet. Watched you a lot. Followed you room to room.
Today, you came home from work.
And the puppy wasn’t in his bed.
A manwas.
Standing in your living room. Full grown. Brown hair that fell messily around his face, big teal-green eyes, a tan complexion. He had—floppy ears. Like a dog’s, but on a human head. And a brown tail, swishing nervously behind him.
