Dawnlark Plains carry me home

I hereby ship Fry and Rana <3

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"So he'll quit peeing on the bushes," he said with all the brutal honesty of an older brother. "No baby making is what He said," tacked on the Newfie with finality. He was as close to a God as Mac's dimly lit imagination could conjure; what He said almost always went. Unless Mac found a piece of food too close to the table's edge and then screw the God and his rules...he was his own creature that didn't need no man!
 
Except right now he REALLY needed a man. A dog's got needs ya know.
 
"The cone of shame keeps Fry from being a bad dog," he explained. "No boo boo touching." Thanks to a certain movie no human on this earth couldn't NOT refer to the Elizabethan collar as 'the cone of shame' and Mac only knew it as such. He studied Fry's bashful behavior and gave his plume an encouraging wag before clasping the edge of the cone gently in his teeth and giving it a little tug. It'd been fun dragging Fry around the yard like a toy at first- the dog was helpless but to follow the Newfie's enthusiastic Pied Piper routine  as he led them both from one corner of the fence to the other -  but now he found the obliging follow up of the Retriever's body a nuisance.
 
With his grip firm on one edge he looked to Rana and boofed a soft plea at her. "If yew howd one end I cahn pull from the ather," he said with little more legitimacy than a stroke victim. But he pulled back a ways so that Fry involuntarily leaned in the direction he was going...hoping Rana got the idea that she needed to grasp the other side and pull in the opposite direction.     

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"If you hold one end I can pull from the other."