Hushed Willows Dads leave. No reason to be a pussy about it.

His mouth moved and the pup watched, fascinated, ears quivering at the deep timbre of his voice so unlike his mother's. The words themselves went in one of Tambourine's ears (the upright one) and out the other (the floppy one). He still wasn't at an age where he could truly comprehend that sort of thing. It was all about tone and pitch with him. Plus, there were facial expressions and body language; he was rather fluent in those.

Tambourine returned the adult's grin, then suddenly became aware of an urgent need to urinate (probably due to all the squeezing of his bladder while trying to munch his own wiener). The pup instinctively pushed himself onto all fours and toddled toward the nearest stretch of wall. He had seen Warbone and the pack's other male members hike their legs before, yet his primary role model was his mother. So Tambourine aimed his rear at the wall and squatted, oblivious to the fact that the stream of urine currently escaping his body was in fact coming from that damned unreachable nipple.