Bolt yawned, stretching his 8 week old jaws wide open and breathing the fresh air, or at least what passed for fresh air in the animal shelter. He sat up. He was still where he had been the day before; stuck in a case with a bunch of other puppies. He looked around, panting and wagging his tail happily.
Bolt spotted his favorite toy; Mister Carrot. He ran over and pounced on it. The bright orange carrot squeaked, startling Bolt. He backed away, growling at the noisemaker. He had never heard it make that noise before. Then he ran at it again, jumping on the carrot so that it squeaked again, then he dropped to the floor of the case and pawed at the carrot.
The store’s owner walked by then. All of the other puppies in the case went over to him, whining for attention, but Bolt merely turned around and sat. Having lost interest, he turned back around and picked the carrot up in his jaws again.
Suddenly, one of the other puppies walked by, bumping Bolt hard enough to knock him over and make him drop the carrot. Bolt bore no ill will to this, and promptly picked the carrot back up, rolling onto his back with the carrot still in his teeth. He froze there, save for a slight tilit to his head.
A little girl in a flowery yellow shirt was staring at him through the glass walls of the case. Bolt dropped the carrot, looking at the girl. That is, until his rapidly swinging tail caught his attention. Bolt turned in circles chasing his own tail. Then he turned once in the other direction.
Bolt reared up on his little hind legs and put his little paws on the glass, staring at the little girl, his cold wet nose leaving smudge marks on the glass. The girl gasped. She pointed directly at Bolt and said, “That one.”
The store owner reached into the case and picked up the tiny white puppy with a giant hand, presenting him to the girl. She held him. “You’re heavy,” she said. Bolt licked her nose, “And slobbery.”
She placed him on the ground. Bolt looked up and licked her nose again, drawing a giggle from her. The little girl reached into her pocket and pulled out a collar with a tag. She put it around Bolt’s neck.
“You’re a good boy,” she said, “You’re my good boy.” She embraced the little dog and scratched his head.