Shimmering Sands Learning to love the bomb

ooc: Haha! Thank you!

Foster’s intention hadn’t been to kill her; ears tugging forward at her sudden spasm of phlegm, blood, and chunks of beaver gone flying. His only vision of CPR would’ve have been to trample on her throat and attempt to dislodge whatever was stuck in there had she gone belly up. So he was somewhat relieved when she managed to get a hold of herself, but only somewhat, because while he would’ve left her to the gulls he certainly wouldn’t have let her meal go to waste.

His tail flew out behind him, whipping as he snatched his reward from the air and greedily chomped it into mincemeat down his throat. “I can sit and beg too.” Foster offered, looking just as happy as any dog willingly to roll over for another treat. Of course he was kidding, noted by the slight curve tugging at the one edge of his muzzle—but only half kidding, just as complacent to go along with it if it meant more food was involved.

“Anyone ever tell you, you look like those squirrelly things?”