Five minutes later and the worst of the storm had passed. Declán stretched his limbs slowly and stood, bracing himself as he violently shook the water from his fur.
The rain had abated to a light drizzle as made his way home. He'd just rounded the corner of his street when he saw the labrador. The great goofy creature came bounding over to play, obviously seeing a large wolf as a brand new friend. Declán sighed as he suffered through the usual canine greeting.
Once the chocolate lab had settled down enough to make any sort of sense, Declán managed to find out that it was lost. He explained that if the lab turned around and stuck his nose to the ground, he could follow his own scent trail home. The lab blinked in slow comprehension, apparently following his own trail never occurred to him. Selective breeding had a lot to answer for.
Not trusting the dog to have an attention span longer than a goldfish, Declán thought it best to hold his paw and get him safely home. With the dogcatcher due in the area soon, Declán may be able to smell it a mile away, but he doubted his new friend could smell beyond the end of his snout. The silly sod would be sitting in a cell down at Battersea before he knew what was happening.
Getting the labrador home involved a long and circuitous journey that eventually ended a block over from where they'd met. Declán glared at the lab, who complete missed the look declaring him a poor excuse for a canine and bounded up the stairs to bounce noisily off the door.
A woman opened the door and was nearly flattened by her very wet and ecstatically happy dog. "Buster! I was so worried about you." She hugged Buster, who had his paws on her shoulders and was licking her face enthusiastically.
As she went to close the door, she noticed the wolf sitting quietly outside on the footpath. "Who's your friend, Buster." She waved Declán over. "You'd better come in and dry off, big lad."
Cocking his head to one side, Declán looked at the woman. With her long strawberry blonde hair tied back in a neat ponytail, she was certainly a cutie and she loved her big dopey dog. Perhaps Buster was on a good wicket after all. He made his decision and trotted inside, to be immediately wrapped in a warm, fluffy towel hot from the dryer.
He rumbled in pleasure as the women rubbed the towel through his coat. It looked like there were benefits to being a big, dumb labrador. Declán made a note to introduce himself to this woman when he was walking about on two legs. Someone who gave backrubs this good was well worth getting to know better.


Part of the Meetings!verse and the Wolf&Declán!verse
- mood:
creative
- noise:london gangsters: notorious kray twins
Comments
I don't know what came over me. Must have been kidnapped by aliens at the time. Thanks!
Dec is such a sweetie! It was awful nice of him to escort the poor lab home. But it was even more like him -- and any male -- to seek out the pretty girl. :)
Hang on, wait a sec! I see the pattern, now. Dec likes blondes! And-and... I'm a blonde!! (Er, well... a strawberry-blonde, but it's close enough!) Whoo! I stand a chance!
Quick, Wolf, send him to Canada!
::eagerly waits::
...
What do you mean 'he's just a fictional character'? But, I want him! :{
Quick, Wolf, send him to Canada!
But don't you want to live in London with a chocolate lab called Buster and Declán just around the corner?
But don't you want to live in London with a chocolate lab called Buster and Declán just around the corner?
Hmm... good point. Yes, you're probably right. I think I'll have to move.
But wait! What about my Secret Lair?! My ninjas will be dragging
Right, that's it then. Dec is just going to have to come visit me. (He can bring Buster, too!) Yup, glad that's settled. :D
Hair colour of Buster's human has been rectified.
Your hair must be lighter than mine, which is more orange. I like orange.
Maybe we could just install a couple of Stargates between London and your mountain digs. We'll just have to assume your mountain digs are on another planet or you have Stargates that happily function on the same planet. It's all terribly complicated.
Thanks! Hee!
Your hair must be lighter than mine, which is more orange. I like orange.
Orange is a bad colour on me. I have the skin tone of a redhead; not so much pale as pink, skips tan straight to burn, with an abundance of freckles. But if you really want to get technical, then my strawberry-blonde hair can't really be described. It's never the same shade twice. Depending on light and/or wetness, it can look anything from platinum blonde, through various shades of gold, to burnished copper. But yes, recalling an old photo of yours you once sent me, I'd wager it is much lighter. :)
Red hair is never one colour, it's always a mix. Mine has been it's normal colour for a few years now.
And it reminds me again to read more of your fics ^_^; when I'm not at jake's, his computer possesses the approximate memory of a 1957 GE toaster -_-;
his computer possesses the approximate memory of a 1957 GE toaster
And I'm reminded of the Talky Toaster from Red Dwarf. More memory, but infinite more annoying.
Considering some of the photos I've seen of the paths of destruction created by Malamutes and Huskies, I think I'm fortunate to have survived their puppyhood with little damage. Malamute was a nightmare of a pup, the reason why the breed has such a high dumpage rate. Her main joy as a pup was to gnaw on the humans of the household rather than objects. Mostly.
We won't mention the penchant for stealing remote controls that Malamute had a pup when she was narced with us. Still, despite the damage and gaffer tape holding them together, they still worked. Husky was never as bad.
My great aunt had a series of insane yellow Labradors when I was growing up. Tails that could take down a small child and slobber everywhere. No incidents of cactus eating, but that may only be because there were none in reach.
We used to have another cat, Pumpkin, but she died at 3 1/2 years of age from genetic deterioration. Most beautiful kitty I've ever seen, but so inbred her own body turned against her. Oddly enough, however, Pumpkin was smarter than little-miss stray mutt Tinky. Pumpkin learned how to open doors; Tinky learned that swallowing a live still-fluttering moth tickles going down the throat.
Poor Pumpkin. Bad breeders. Bad.
Tonka likes to play with birds. He finds them exciting fluttery toys, much like Tinky would moths. The birds end up intact, soggy and quite dead. He loses interest when his toys don't work any more. Cats excite him too. He's got a thing for a new ginger tom in the street that tries to chase him off its turf. Tonka just sees this as the toy coming to him.
Pumpkin was a purebred Somalie (sp?). A very long and thin cat, vaguely Egyption but with long, very fine fur. Her colouring was classed as "devonshire cream calicho", which basically means grey, beige, white and pink splotches. Very pretty. I have a tribute to her in my Memories, but Angelfire is being a bitch and not letting the photo load. I really need to move to a decent server... ::grumbles::
50gm is a goodly amount. I'll spin half, see how far it's going and then decide if I can ply it on itself or need to ply it on another fibre.
When you ship it, make sure it's in plastic (ziplock sandwich bags are fine) and you label that it's cleaned fibre. Remind me before you send it and I'll chase up the wording on the labels Wild Rose Fibres in Canada used on the stuff I got from them.
The quarantine beagles will sniff it out, even if it's sealed, so setting their mind at ease means it gets to me.
Try Photobucket for free image hosting. And Netfirms for free web hosting.