Bark, bark, snort, grrr
(The ex idea comes from @st-el-la-luna, absolutely brilliant darling ❤️)
Content:
Voyeurism, Mild Injury, Possessive/Protective Behavior
Johnny, for all his quirks and… weirdly human tendencies, is an incredibly good sport. Particularly about letting you put him in Santa hats and wreaths, ugly sweaters and snow socks. He poses for every picture so dutifully, looks so serious and annoyed up until you plant smooches on his head or cheek and that silly lupine grin comes out.
He’s been your perfect little heater ever since the heater started to go on the fritz. It keeps shutting off or turning itself lower than it’s meant to be, leaving you shivering before you realize something is amiss. It’s not so broken that you’re willing to interrupt your solitude to have someone come fix it. But you’re grateful for a big fluffy body laying on your feet or snuggling under the blankets with you.
As the winter sets in, you tromp out with him in the snow a lot. Often use his sturdy shoulders and better footing as a crutch to navigate without slipping. He always gets fussy when you do, dancing in his feet and snuffling at your coat, urging you up.
One morning you wake up after a fresh snow, expecting that you’ll have to clear the driveway and porch - only to find it freshly shoveled and salted. It would spook you, except you’re sure Johnny would have woken you up barking his head off if it was anything to worry about.
Your mother calls about holiday plans in mid-November. You hedge around any commitments, hand buried in Johnny’s fur, saying that you don’t want to leave your precious pup at home.
The combined efforts of both your parents, your sister, and a cousin you actually like makes you cave eventually though. They promise it’ll just be family, that you can even bring Johnny. You grimace at that - debate getting him some meds from the vet…. But he’s been doing better on walks in town.
The weird assurance that it’ll “just be family” should have been a red flag.
When you arrive at your parents’ place, several gift bags and Johnny (with a bow tie on his collar) in tow, you find your ex there. On the couch. Next to your least-favorite cousin and your sister.
“What’s he doing here?” you ask sharply.
“Well, you two were engaged—”
Johnny’s ears shoot straight up as you tense.
“Yeah, and then he cheated.”
“People make mistakes. If you would just hear him out.”
“I don’t care what he has to say. And I don’t care what you have to say either.”
You drop the bags in a heap and click your tongue for Johnny. He falls in with you instantly, leaning up against your side. You get all the way to your car before you hear your ex’s voice calling your name.
You try to hurry, but there’s ice and the last thing your dignity can take is slipping right now. Luckily, you have the perfect deterrent before you ex can even get within arm’s reach.
Johnny snarls, so deep and loud you feel it in your own chest.
“Jesus!” your ex cries, coming up short. “Where did you get that thing?!”
“Johnny picked me. More than I can say for you.”
“Don’t be like that, I’m picking you now.”
“Oh, did your girl best friend lose all her daddy’s money?”
His cheeks light up neon. Huh. Got it in one.
Then he dares another step and Johnny lunges. You just get a hold of his harness but it’s enough ward your ex off a bit more.
“He’s very loyal,” you add. “Also more than I can say for you.”
“Baby, just listen—”
“An upgrade all around, I think.”
You round your car, climb into the driver’s seat with Johnny standing guard, then let him clamber over you into the passenger’s seat. At the front door, most of your family is gathered and staring. You flip off your ex one last time before peeling out of there.
The tears come after you’ve gotten back home. Johnny licks your face until you stop crying, then leads you inside. The two of you curl up on the couch together, his face buried in your stomach. You fall asleep there and dream of a man’s voice whispering love and comfort in your ear.
—
A week later, your ex shows up.
You’re out in the yard with Johnny, watching him zoom through the snow and laughing as he speeds by. Your ex must hear you because he comes round the side of the house.
And Johnny. Goes. Ballistic.
Literally, he hits your ex like a missile, taking him into the snow and snarling like something from hell. He’s got his teeth in your ex’s designer coat, ripping it to shreds. It’s frightening; you’ve never felt safer.
“Johnny!” you call. A growl. You walk closer, kick a bit of snow at both of them. “Johnny, down! Leave it!”
And he does, finally does, though not without taking a good chunk of fabric with him. Your ex, wide-eyed and pale, panting, doesn’t bother to say a word. He scrambles away while Johnny barks after him, all canine and spit.
You hum as he returns to you, fabric in his mouth, tail wagging.
“What a good boy,” you coo, taking the partial sleeve and inspecting it. Louis Vuitton, it looks like. “Very good. My perfect boy.”
You drop his prize into the snow and snort as he wastes no time peeing on it. Well, that’s gonna stay there. Forever.
“C’mon bud, you deserve a treat.”
Johnny follows you happily inside, a new pep in his step.
2K notes
·
View notes