Qeya River beatboxing puppy

Phoebe was gonna punt the whole of herself into the sun.

The rotund girl had found a stick, buried in the ground, and she wanted it. But no matter what she did, it just wouldn’t budge! She’d tried bargaining, tugging, wrenching, screaming, nothing!

She plopped herself on the other side of it with a huff, glowering at the stick with all of her might.

Dumb ‘tick She half grumbled beneath her breath, before attacking it one last time, gripped between sharp puppy teeth and yanking at it wildly.

Today she planned to explore the territory now that they were settled. However she longed to be home but she had to understand this was home now. But being as young as she was that wasn’t a concept she understood so she was determined to make the best of it.

She saw one of the new pups pulling at part of a stick and she approached the girl. “What doing?” She asked.

Another voice. Young.

Phoebe, who only ever had experience with her much more rowdy siblings, fluffed up like a little cotton ball soaked in ink. She clamped so fiercely to the stick she was steadily chewing it to pieces.

Mine! She squalled in warning, still tugging rapidly to try and spirit the stick away before the other pup saw a chance to grab it and run, like Sparrow no doubt would.