Lost Creek Hollow warming weather

He was joined in what could be considered record time, given clumsy puppy movements and pace, and as Silas planted a sloppy kiss that dribbled over his nose, Pippin elicited a tiny, playful growl, though did not relinquish his rock.
 
His bright eyes studied his brother, his jaws drifting from his prize to nibble at the nearest limb of his brother, hoping to gain his attention before his tiny figure slumped closer to the ground. Stretching out in pure puppy bliss, the boy’s rounded form seemed to pool across the den floor in a pudgy mass of milk fat and fur. His rump gave a tiny wiggle then, a paw lifting to tap the ground in invitation for play.