Wheeling Gull Isle Put a big bird in a small cage it'll sing you a song

The puppy who would one day come to be known as Koi peeped rhythmically as she wriggled and wormed along, her blunt puppy muzzle quivering as she bumped blindly from one obstacle to the next. When she reached her pale sister, she paused. On some primordial, instinctive level, she knew her, and this knowing was familiar and comforting. She wasn’t hungry — evinced by the cream that dappled her nascent flews — but that didn’t stop her from popping open her mouth and suctioning herself against one of her sibling’s paws. The inclination to nurse was instinctive, but the lack of milk production was a deterrent, so she alternated between suckling and gumming.