A/N - SURPRISE! I know I said this was a oneshot but I was so overwhelmed by the response this got that I decided to add a second chapter. This will be the last one though. Thank you to everyone who reviewed and sent me love for the innermost thoughts of this German Shepherd.

Thanks also to everyone who reviewed my latest oneshot, Paint it Black :)

I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint. x

Paw Patrol

In my humble opinion, watching mom and dad cook is better entertainment than the tv. Each weekend, dad's been giving mom lessons because around a month or so ago, she ruined two dishes and an oven tray because she misjudged the timing of the frozen dinner she was cooking and our apartment smelled like burnt for at least a fortnight.

Tonight, he's been teaching her how to prepare stuffed chicken breasts and something called funeral potatoes which initially seemed kind of morbid, but once I discovered they consisted of cheese, cream and butter, they suddenly didn't seem so bad. I figure this particular meal is a win-win for me because if there's meat involved, I tend to get a tiny portion regardless, and if it doesn't turn out so well, dad lets me have more than I should because he hates wasting meat.

Thing is, during these lessons, mom gets a little distracted. I guess I should cut her some slack because she focuses really really hard at work, but her attention-span during meal-prep is abysmal. Case in point: dad is cubing potatoes and rather than helping, she's been trailing her hand up and down his side for the past five minutes.

"You got it?" he asks, having explained the precise measurements at which to cut the yukon golds.

"Got it," she lies. I can always tell when mom's lying. I think dad can too, only he doesn't call her out on it because he's just so happy to be back here that I'm pretty sure if she told him she wanted to pack up the apartment and move to Mexico, he would.

"If they're uneven sizes, they won't cook evenly," he says.

Mom replies with an "Uh huh," but her hands are still trailing along the seam of his t-shirt and I think he's getting a little distracted too.

Dad's mistake is turning to kiss mom before he hands her the knife. I think she forgets all about making funeral potatoes because all of a sudden, her hand isn't on top of his shirt anymore, but roaming underneath it. I rest my head on my paws because I know where this is headed and I'm not about to receive any chicken in my dish anytime soon.

Sure enough, they end up in their bedroom while I busy myself with the ball dad bought me one night after a particular hard day on the job. Personally, I think my nose should get a pay-rise, but I'll settle for a ball that houses those little bone-shaped gravy biscuits mom buys at the grocery store when she hasn't realised Ruzek and dad have been feeding me pork rinds all day.

By the time they resurface - mom wearing dad's t-shirt and dad wearing only his jeans - the chicken has begun to dry out and the funeral potatoes aren't even in the oven. They eat salad as their side dish and I lament the fact that I only get the skin with my kibbles.

X

With the colder weather comes mud. We take a family trip to the cabin in Wisconsin one weekend in early November and dad doesn't even bother to bring my leash for the trip. He and mom let me explore wherever I please on our walks around the lake, which seems like a huge treat until I spend a great afternoon chasing birds through dirt - something I haven't had the foresight to fully assess.

Mom says I have to have a bath. I look to dad to defend me against this horrible torture but like always, he agrees with her and actually goes so far as to start running the water while I try and avoid being captured. She tricks me with a strip of beef jerky though (I'm not sure where she even gets it from: she's like a human vending machine sometimes) and I hang my head in shame when dad appears to scoop me up in his arms. If there's one thing I take pride in though, it's staining his favourite shirt as he plonks me in the tub.

He rinses me off and it's not too bad, but then mom appears with a bottle of purple liquid and I start backing away from her. I love mom, but there's a determined expression written across her face and dad and I both know she's going to win whatever battle she initiates. It transpires that the purple stuff is mom's shower gel. I know this because when she squeezes a tomato-sized amount onto her palm, I get a whiff of the scent I always smell when she's had a shower. She lathers me up and I stare dad out because I thought the boys were supposed to stick together.

All he says is, "Sorry bud," and pats me on the head. I continue to stare at him as mom soaps up my butt and tells me I'm a good boy. I decide to chew her boot laces later as payback, but then think better of it because despite the bath, I still love mom - even though she has made me smell like one of those lavender-chamomile scented pillows.

After I'm all clean, mom and dad let me lie in front of the fireplace so I can dry off while they set about cooking some pasta. Dad tells mom he's in the mood for spaghetti alla puttanesca (which turns out to mean something quite rude) and she just looks up at him with this weird expression on her face. She's not sad, but she looks somewhat embarrassed and I have no idea why until dad flames from the neck upwards and gabbles an apology, saying:

"Erin, I'm so sorry, I didn't-"

"-It's okay," mom interrupts him, stroking her fingertips along his forearm so he'll look at her. "Really."

Dad kisses her forehead, then each of her eyelids and her nose before finally making it to her lips. She rests against him with a sigh after that and I'm able to figure out that maybe some time ago, before dad knew mom, she made her money in a very different way than how she does now. I don't think it matters though: dad and I will always love mom regardless.

They cook their pasta and instead of eating at the table, mom sits on the counter to lift forkfuls of tasty-looking spaghetti from her bowl to her mouth, and dad eats his standing between her legs so they're way closer than they need to be. When they're done, dad takes the bowls and puts them into the sink, not washing them straight away but returning to his previous position so mom can lean against his chest with her eyes closed. She'll never admit it, but she loves this place. Dad thinks she's a city girl at heart, and maybe she is, but all she wants for the future is for us all to grow old here by the lake with its huddle of trees and plentiful birds to chase. To me, that sounds perfect.

X

The winter draws in with its blizzards and freezing air, its dark mornings and dark nights and a blanket of snow that makes it harder to sniff out what I need to find. One weekend, mom and dad leave me in the apartment - which is very unusual - but they come back a couple hours later hauling in a tree that looks like it should be in the forest. Mom laughs and tells dad she thinks they should've chosen the smaller one, but he shakes his head and tells her you can never have a tree that's too big. Dad's not often wrong, but I think he might be on this occasion, and besides, the damn thing is shedding its needles all over the floor which - if you get them in your paws - are pretty painful.

They drape a string of lights around the tree and then hang so many balls on it that I think it must be a giant present for me. I go to biff one with my nose but mom scolds me and I get confused.

"They're baubles," she says, changing her tone into that lovely soft voice she uses to explain things. "Not balls." She rubs behind my ears so I know she's not mad and then asks dad where my bone is, and I'm confused because I don't have a bone, but then dad goes to that space between the apartment door and the livingroom, rustles in a bag and then produces said bone.

"Here Blue," he says, holding it out to me. I feel so grateful to have mom and dad for my parents.

Around a couple weeks later, mom starts falling asleep on the couch in front of the tree as soon as we all get in from work. Dad wakes her every time to tell her to grab a shower while he cooks dinner, and she always gives him this grateful smile, strokes her hand down his back and then pads off down the hallway as he sets about rummaging in the freezer for something to shove in the oven.

She's exhausted all of the time so dad makes a real effort to prepare snacks that won't give her the sugar highs and then the subsequent crashes. You know, dad really does love mom a lot. The carrot sticks and granola bars aren't exactly her favourite, but she doesn't say anything because nobody's ever made mom snacks before. She's just grateful that we all live together now.

I wonder when mom and dad are going to realise the reason behind this bout of tiredness. Mom has a baby growing inside of her but neither she nor dad know or even suspect yet. I try to tell her not to drink coffee or beer but my words come out in a language of barks that humans don't understand. It's rather frustrating but I decide to pay close attention in case she does something that would really be dangerous for the baby. Now that I've thought about being a big brother, I very much like the idea and part of my role is as a protector.

One day, mom tells dad she'd like canned corn for dinner.

"With what?" he asks, dusting his lips over her eyelids as she rests on the couch.

"Nothing,"she hums, hooking her fingers blindly inside of the neck of dad's t-shirt so she can pull him back to her lips."Just corn."

"This is why you're tired," dad tells her. "You need carbs for energy."

Considering mom and dad work in intelligence, when it comes to themselves their sense of perception is incredibly weak.

"Fine," she mumbles tiredly. "Whatever you want. Just make sure there's canned corn."

Dad makes mousaka and piles a whole load of corn on mom's plate which she practically inhales. In my opinion, mom is elegant and beautiful all of the time, but right now - when she's shoveling food in like she hasn't eaten in weeks - it's a little harder to see it.

X

Finally, mom and dad realise that there's something going on. Or, rather, mom realises and then tells dad when he's lying in bed one Sunday morning, only half-awake.

"Jay," she says softly, leaning against the doorframe with this dimple-displaying smile on her face. Dad's not fully-coherent, and so mumbles something unintelligible as he rolls towards the middle of the bed with his eyes closed, reaching his fingertips blindly for her body so he can settle them on mom's warm skin. When he doesn't find her, he opens his eyes tentatively, craning his head from under the sheets so he can see her.

"Come back to bed," he smiles sleepily, and mom crosses the room to him but doesn't snuggle back under the sheets like dad expects her to.

"Jay," she says again, tracing his jawline with her hands. "I think I'm pregnant."

"What?" his eyes are suddenly wide.

"I'm late. Like, really late. I haven't really been keeping track of my cycle but I know I haven't had a period in at least a couple months. I thought I was just tired but I'm thinking it might be more than that."

Mom's happy, thinking about the possibility of having a baby with dad. She wants everything with him. All dad wants is whatever makes mom happy, so I guess we're in a win-win situation.

We all take a walk to the local drugstore so mom and dad can buy some tests, which wouldn't be necessary if they could understand me. Mom smells different now. It's not a bad different, but there's a definite change in her scent - like a hint of something a little more musky. A little more like dad.

I wait obediently outside while dad accompanies mom to buy what she thinks she needs to tell her what I already know, all excited and nervous as he entwines his fingers with exit the doors around five minutes later with mom clutching a bag that houses various brands of tests. They're nothing if not thorough, mom and dad.

Unsurprisingly, each little plastic stick mom pees on shows them a little plus sign that makes dad giddy. Mom, who's been so excited for this possibility, is suddenly overcome with this ridiculous feeling of potential inadequacy that she has no right to feel. She's already the best mom there is. I tell her this by nudging her hand with my nose, then licking her palm carefully. I think it does the trick because she smiles at me, pets me on my head and then rubs that delicious spot behind my ears.

"Erin," dad says in a voice that betrays how careful he's being. He lifts her chin with his forefinger and her eyes are shining with tears. They're happy tears though.

"I know," mom whispers, gripping his arms with her fingers.

His face erupts in a grin then, wide and stretching from ear to ear and mom laughs, kissing him with zero precision, her lips pretty much missing his but it doesn't matter because they're both so happy. I love seeing mom and dad like this.

He can't stop staring at her stomach. There's nothing to see yet, but dad's fascinated by it, so much so that mom tells him to quit staring at her unless he's going to take his shirt off and let her stare too. Dad does take his shirt off. He lets it fall somewhere on the floor and smirks at mom, who's looking at his chest like it's something to eat. I take myself off into the hallway because I'm pretty sure where this is headed.

The following Monday, mom and dad tell Hank that our family is going to grow, and even the boss gets a little teary eyed as he pulls mom in for a hug before shaking dad's hand. Instead of heading out to suit up with the rest of them team when a case comes in, mom stays at her desk with a mug of tea rather than coffee, telling dad:

"Careful babe."

Dad grins because he loves it when mom calls him that. I sit by mom's side until I'm instructed to go too, but I stay where I am because I get that dad has to head out to Dearborn Park but one of us needs to stay here with her.

"C'mon Blue," he calls again, and I tilt my head to mom questioningly. Why doesn't he understand?

"Smart dog," Hank says, and I hold my head up higher because that's high praise coming from the boss. "He can stay. Should be a pretty straightforward bust."

Everyone heads out and leaves us to it and I decide I'm cross at dad for trying to make me leave mom. When he returns a couple hours later, I ignore him - treatment that continues on the drive home and during dinner until he tells her that he's sorting divorce papers because the last thing he wants is to be married to someone else when mom brings their baby into the world. She doesn't want that either but she was never going to say as such.

I can't stay mad at dad when I watch him look at mom like he does, but he really needs to know I'm not about to leave her now.

X

Mom looks different now. Somehow she's softer, and her stomach isn't the flat plane it was when she first brought me home. It's round now, expanding every day as she grows the baby bigger and stronger inside of her. Every night before bed, she lets dad rub this lotion that kind of smells like chocolate into her skin. I licked his hand once, just to get a taste seeing as I rarely see uncle Will long enough to enjoy a mouthful of KitKat on the sly, but it was not good. I had to spend the rest of the evening before bed begging dad for a treat so I could rid the kind-of-soapy taste from my mouth.

Tonight, I wait for mom to climb into bed beside dad before I settle down on the floor at her side. They get to discover whether I'm getting a brother or sister tomorrow and I rest my head on my paws as I listen to their conversation. They haven't discussed names before and so I really hope this won't be like the time they were trying to name me. I'm sure whatever mom suggests will be perfect though.

"If it's a girl, do you want to name her after Camille?" dad asks softly, dancing his fingertips over the protruding bump of mom's stomach. I hear her suck in a breath and the wavering in her voice tells me she's fighting tears.

"I love you for asking that," she says. "But girl or boy, I don't want this baby to feel like it has to live up to something. Someone. We should just pick what sounds right with Halstead."

"Halstead?" dad questions. "You want it to have my last name?"

It isn't so much surprise that I detect in his voice, more like honour.

"Of course," mom whispers definitively. "'Cos we're all going to have yours someday, right?"

I lift my head to look up at them and dad looks like he's finding it hard to swallow. He's struggling to use words, I can tell, so he just presses his lips against mom's and tells her he loves her.

Mom hums softly and I think that's her way of saying it back.

We all go to work the next morning and when dad has to leave with Ruzek to follow up a lead, mom grabs his hand as he passes her desk so that he stops beside us.

"Careful out there," she instructs with a smile, her two dimples on display and dad just looks at her like he's about to melt into a puddle. You know, the ones snowmen make when the sun eventually wins out over the cold. "The sonogram appointment is at two."

"Wouldn't miss it," dad tells her, leaning over so he can seal his lips over hers. They never used to make a point of showing how much they love each other while we're all at work, but since they've found out about the baby, things have changed.

"Suit up Halstead," Hank instructs, breaking mom and dad apart like he always does, only he's biting back a smile and so I know that really, he's only messing with them. Dad gets flustered and heads out - not before looking back at mom with this huge grin that makes him look like a Cheshire cat though - and mom just smiles back at him, her eyes dancing and I don't think I've ever seen her happier.

As it happens, mom kind of likes PDAs at work.

Of course, dad returns like he promised and he drops a kiss to mom's crown on his way to his desk, pats me on the head and then takes a seat so he can write up some paperwork. They eat lunch - burritos mom bought when we went out for my outdoor break fifteen minutes ago - and then they leave me behind with Hank and the rest of the team while they go for their sonogram appointment. I don't mind staying here if dad's with mom, and besides, I'm giving it twenty minutes before Ruzek hits the vending machine and I become the grateful recipient of half a Snickers bar.

"Well?" Hank asks when they return, hand in hand and beaming. I sit up, mouth salivating a little as I catch a whiff of the open candy bar on Ruzek's desk, but give mom and dad my full attention. Mom looks at dad, nodding for him to tell us, and he does with sparkling eyes and the proudest expression I've ever seen.

"It's a girl."

There's a lot of noise all of a sudden as everyone surrounds them, pulling mom in for hugs and shaking dad's hand and generally being overwhelmingly excited. I bark my happiness too, just in case they've forgotten about me, and everyone laughs as mom bends down to nuzzle the top of my head and dad pats me on my back.

X

Dad's exhausted. He doesn't tell mom this of course, but I know he is from the way he crashes out as soon as his head hits the pillow every night at bedtime. Mom though, has started to notice. She hasn't said anything, but every weekend, rather than having her cooking lesson, she makes dad rest on the couch in front of the tv while she makes dinner. Dad doesn't like this for two reasons, the first being that he feels incredibly guilty: if anyone should be resting, it's mom. The second is that mom cooking unsupervised has incurred some pretty disastrous results.

The first week, things were fine. She made ziti and prepared a side salad and all seemed great, judging by the appreciative noises dad made as he shovelled forkful after forkful into his mouth. A couple weeks later, she triumphed with a lasagne, and the week after that was a particularly delicious beef cobbler.

Since then however, things have taken a bit of a nosedive. I'm currently pressing my nose against my paws in an attempt to block out some of the smell from her charred garlic. Mom let the oil get too hot.

Dad never complains though, just gets up from the couch, kisses the back of her head with a smile and tells her not to worry about it. Thing is, mom does worry a little. She wants to be able to cook well enough that when my little sister gets in from school, there'll be a tasty dinner on the table, just like there was when she lived with Hank and Camille. I think, even without her having voiced this, that dad knows, and that's why he doesn't protest when she insists on cooking.

If it's possible, I think I love mom and dad even more for this.

One Saturday evening, she's trying her hand at spaghetti and meatballs - one of dad's favourite dishes - when she opens the cupboard to discover she's forgotten to buy pasta at the grocery store. She tells dad as such and so he volunteers to run out to the 7-11 on the next block.

"Blue, you wanna go with dad?" she asks me, almost tripping over my paws when she loses her balance a little. That stretched stomach is playing havoc with mom's centre of gravity these days. Dad and I share a look of understanding, and I stay right where I am, only slightly further away from mom.

"We can take him for a walk together later," dad says, and I nod because that sounds like a much better deal all round. He kisses her quickly before grabbing his wallet from the counter and leaving us to it. The smell coming from the pork in the oven is divine.

Only around fifteen minutes later, there's a knock at the apartment door. I scamper from the kitchen to the origin of the noise, sniffing at the gap between the outside hallway and the floor beneath my paws. I can't discern exactly who it is, but I can smell some sort of illegal substance and so I shout to mom not to open the door. Dad isn't here and I can only do so much on my own. Mom rounds the corner though, her stomach appearing first, and I already know she's going to open that door. I'm ready to pounce, just incase, but when she leans in to look through the peephole (a feat that's a little tricky, given her new body) she sighs out the word "Bunny".

I hope it's the actual rabbit kind and not the other one I've heard about - you know, mom's mom. Something (call it intuition) tells me my hopes are about to be dashed.

Mom opens the door and of course, it's the wrong type of bunny. "Mom," she says, devoid of any expression other than sudden tiredness.

"Erin!" she practically shrieks, holding out her arms to hug her daughter. I step between them because people need to be gentle with mom, and I'm not sure Bunny gets this. "It is true! You're pregnant!"

"Yeah," mom steps back, away from Bunny and I keep my place between them.

"It's Jay's?" Now that makes me mad. It makes mom mad too.

"Of course she's Jay's."

"She? You're having a little girl?"

"Why are you here?" mom sighs, resigning to her tiredness once again. I really wish dad would hurry up at the store.

"You never returned my calls. I wanna be in your life Erin. Yours and my grandchild's. Granddaughter's."

Mom is silent for a while and I start to wonder whether she's okay or whether I need to make a bolt for it out of the door. I know where the 7-11 is and I know the route dad would take, so it wouldn't take too long for me to reach him and drag him back here. But then she summons up the remainder of her strength - of course she does, because she's mom - and tells Bunny no.

"No?"

"That's what I said."

"But she's my granddaughter Erin."

"I know. So if you think I'm going to let you do to her what you did to me, then you're mistaken."

"Baby, please, I-"

"- Bunny?" I hear dad's voice ask, and immediately I feel a sense of relief because if there's anyone who can tell this woman to stay the hell away from mom, it's him. He comes close enough that I can see him and I wag my tail as a show of thanks that he's back. "What're you doing here?"

"Visiting my daughter," she spits icily, and I feel dad's rage grow as she turns to mom and says, "You going to let him talk to me like that?"

"You need to leave," mom instructs. "Now."

Dad stands aside so Bunny can go back the way she came, but she doesn't budge. "I have a right to see my own grandchild you know."

"Just leave Bunny," he says, before I call the police."

She scoffs and rolls her eyes and I allow myself a gruff bark in solidarity with dad. "You are the police."

"I know, but I'll call the ones on duty who won't be afraid to book you for possession."

I can't help myself. That deserves another bark. And a growl... Oops.

It works though, and Bunny turns to leave without another word. Dad's inside of our apartment, wrapping his arms around mom before I've even blinked. She doesn't cry, even though I think she wants to, but she does allow herself a couple minutes just to stand there, leaning against dad as he rubs comforting circles on her back. He doesn't say anything either, just holds her for as long as she needs.

Later, in bed, dad finally asks if she's ok. Mom thinks for a moment but I think she decides that yes, she is. Dad says nothing more, just holds her a little tighter.

X

Mom refuses to stay at home when dad goes to work. The baby's due any day now, but still she struggles out of bed on a morning, pulls on the one remaining t-shirt that kind of fits her and a pair of gym leggings because none of her jeans will do up anymore. Dad's stopped trying to tell her she should spend her days on the couch, and anyway, I know he likes to come back to her in the pen after he's been out working a case.

Today, intelligence has caught a case that involves me seeking out a stash of dodgy heroin. I'm not going though: mom's going to have the baby today, although nobody but me knows that yet. She smells different - like the time I knew she was pregnant before she did - so I know it's imminent.

Dad being dad tries to summon me to him after he's kissed mom on his way to suit up. I remain exactly where I am.

"Blue, c'mon. We've gotta go," he says again - a little more insistent this time. Still, I don't move, other than to look at mom sitting there with her stomach hanging low and her back spasming every so often.

Dad gets a little mad that he has to take me by the collar, and so I'm forced to use aggression tactics - not something I enjoy when it comes to my parents, but this is for a good cause. I know dad'll be grateful once he realises.

"Damn it dog!" he curses when I snarl at him, baring my teeth so he'll retract his hand. I lay down, spreading my paws to make myself hard to lift if he tries.

I get my way though, eventually. Hank mutters something about never working with children or animals and I'd take offence, but ensuring mom is okay takes precedence. Sure enough, an hour or so later, mom starts shifting in her chair, wincing as she feels a sharp pain in her lower abdomen. I sit up, ears on high alert, and lovely as ever, mom pats me on the head.

She continues her work, clenching her fingers when she gets a pain, then releasing and massaging them after it's subsided. I question whether she'd like me to get Platt from downstairs but it comes out as more of a high-pitched yelp that she doesn't understand and so I just keep watch instead, ready to bark my way to alerting attention if need be. What I want more than anything is for dad to return.

When he doesn't, after at least three hours, I start to worry. Mom's worried too, calling his phone and then Hank's phone - and Ruzek and Attwater's too - but there's no answer. She's growing more and more uncomfortable too, shifting in her seat and then standing, leaning on her desk each time she gets one of those pains that make her screw her face up. It's hard to see mom in pain.

A particularly nasty one makes her suck in a deep breath and I open my mouth to bark loud enough to alert Platt, but then I hear the buzzing of the door followed by dad's voice, and I'm just so grateful that I bark anyway, running across to him to speed him up. Mom needs to go to med. She's just been waiting for dad.

"So you like me now?" dad laughs, but then he looks up at mom, sees her braced against her desk and forgets all about earlier.

They leave for the hospital with a promise dad will call whenever there's news, and I settle back down because I know mom will be okay now. Ruzek's going to take me home with him for the night - or however long they'll be gone - so I know there's the likelihood of beef jerky or pork rinds or chocolate - hell, maybe even all three.

X

"Last breakfast dude," Ruzek tells me, offering the blueberry poptart to my waiting mouth. I've missed mom and dad but staying with Ruzek has been one heck of a culinary experience. We had cheesesteak for dinner last night - even dad's never let me have anything like that before.

It turns out that I've had to stay away from home longer than expected. Mom got sick after delivering the baby and the doctors were too worried to let her come home. Dad was worried too, I know, because he stayed by her side the entire time. They're okay now though: healthy and happy and ready to go home. I'm ready to go home too.

We finish off breakfast and then I get my leash clipped on. My collar's a little tighter than it was when mom and dad left for the hospital so it pulls a little more than it should, but it's a small price to pay for the poptarts and cheesesteak. He drops me off, claps dad on the back but declines his offer to come inside: he'll leave us all to it to get settled.

"Hey Blue," I hear mom say softly, and I pad carefully over to where she appears in the doorway, clutching the smallest bundle of perfection I've ever seen. Dad comes with me, smiling as mom stifles a yawn, kissing her forehead and then stopping to kiss my sister's too. Mom hands her to dad then, holding her side as she crouches down so she's resting on her knees. I think mom still hurts when she moves, but she breezes past it like always. Dad crouches too, holding the baby protectively in his arms.

"This is Lola," mom tells me, and I press my nose against the blanket, inhaling her scent. Lord, I thought mom was perfect, but Lola? She's something else entirely. She's like a reincarnation of mom, mirrored in the way there are two tiny dimples either side of her lips; a cute little button nose, turned up slightly at the end just like mom's, although she cracks an eye open and even though colours aren't my speciality, I can tell they're blue like dad's.

I wag my tail in a hello but I know I can't use my tongue as a hello here: she's too tiny and delicate. Instead, I lift my nose from her blanket to the little hand poking out of her sleepsuit and inhale again, registering the exact blend of jasmine and vanilla, musk and cinnamon that proves she came from both mom and dad.

Later, we get ready to go for a walk in the afternoon sunshine. Dad places Lola in the carrier so he can set it on the stroller's frame while mom clips my leash onto my collar.

"Has Ruzek been feeding you things you're not supposed to eat?" she asks, loosening my collar so I can swallow more easily again. Nothing gets past mom.

"Ready?" dad asks, and she nods, smiling as he leans in to kiss her.

Walks have always been one of my favourite things in the world, but they've never made me feel as proud as I do now. Mom's pushing Lola's stroller, the rays of golden sunlight spilling across her face so she's bathed in this ethereal colour I haven't seen before. I guess it's true what they say - about that glow that comes with having a baby. Dad's got my leash in his left hand, his right resting on the bottom of mom's back like he's showing her off, and I guess he is.

We head along the pier and take a rest stop on one of the benches overlooking the lake. I watch mom snuggle in against dad and think about how nice it would be in the future if I got to have this kind of love. As if reading my thoughts, the most beautiful creature I've ever seen strolls past with an elegant walk and the softest-looking fur I've ever seen. She turns her head towards me and catches me staring. I look away, but can't help myself and crane my neck so I can watch her walk along the rest of the pier. Girl looks back at me the entire time and I already know I'm in trouble.

I hear mom chuckle and I look up to catch her grinning knowingly at me.

"I think our boy's just experienced love at first sight," she tells dad with a smile.

"As long as it's our boy and not our girl," he says. "'Cos that isn't happening."

"Daddy's gonna be so overprotective of you," she tells Lola, smoothing down the blanket that's covering her body.

Yeah, I think. Dad and me both.