Redhawk Caldera Beefin' over turf

As it often happened, no one praised Peter for his use of two words he knew for sure. And while his father contemplated about the size of his son's brain, the same brains were in the process of connecting the dots and forming a shocking conclusion for a child so young - the adults simply did not understand him. This however made him thinking that, perhaps, those sound the others so lavishly applied to every case and situation, was not a tool he could make others know his needs. Neither was it a tool that got him, what he wanted - praise, love and cuddles. And food, of course.

He sighed and studied his father's face carefully, when he addressed him a moment later, the boy's brows were creased in concentration and his mouth was forming a little "o". Peter was searching for any signs that would indicate, what his father wanted from him. There were none, he even looked behind him and saw nothing. Therefore he gave the most adorable smile and wagged his tail - the universal "words" that tell you - I don't understand a thing, but I will pretend that I get you.