Tackled by You

Chapter 31 – Paws and Promises

It started as a joke.

They were walking back from a quiet brunch one Sunday, still full from too many pancakes and bottomless iced coffee, when they passed by a small pop-up animal shelter outside the plaza. A line of kennels sat under a white tent, each one filled with curious eyes and twitching noses.

Andrea stopped mid-step. "Sheik. Look."

He followed her gaze. In the very last crate, curled up like a cinnamon roll, was a tiny, fluffy mutt with a pink tongue sticking out sideways and a tail that wagged the moment he saw them.

"Oh no," Sheik said, laughing. "We are not ready to be dog parents."

Andrea was already kneeling. "Look at his face! Are you heartless?"

The puppy yawned so dramatically, it made a squeaky sound like a broken whistle.

"I think he's judging us," Andrea whispered.

"No, I think he's choosing us," Sheik replied, grinning despite himself.

Ten minutes later, after signing a few forms and high-fiving a very enthusiastic volunteer named Tito Raul, they walked out holding a bundle of brown and white fluff wrapped in an old towel. The puppy licked Andrea's cheek, then turned and nibbled on Sheik's hoodie string.

"I can't believe we just adopted a dog," Andrea said, cradling the pup.

"He definitely thinks we're his parents now."

"What do we name him?"

Sheik tilted his head. "How about… Mochi?"

"Mochi," Andrea repeated, smiling. "Sweet and squishy. Like his face."

It fit.

The next few days were a whirlwind of puppy pads, chewed slippers, squeaky toys, and sleepy cuddles. Mochi followed Andrea around like a shadow when she painted, often dragging her socks under the easel. He curled up on Sheik's stomach during movie nights, his tiny snores louder than expected for a creature his size.

They took turns walking him. They argued about which brand of kibble to get. They laughed way too hard when he barked at his own reflection.

And somewhere in between potty training and late-night fetch, Sheik realized something:

They weren't just dating anymore. They were building something real. With each shared responsibility, each laugh over Mochi's latest antics, they were becoming more of a unit.

"You know," Sheik said one evening, watching Andrea fall asleep with Mochi curled beside her on the couch, "this little furball kind of made us a family."

Andrea, eyes half-closed, smiled. "He did."

And Sheik knew — with a kind of clarity that didn't need big declarations — that this was the life he wanted.

A girl with paint on her fingers. A dog with socks in his mouth. A quiet, steady kind of love that made even the smallest things feel extraordinary.