Overture Downs I gotta girl who don't like that at all

At some point, the wind swirled in such a way that Kincaid was made aware of his company. He paused his digging to observe a strange male still a good ways off, apparently up to business of his own or else stopping by to check out the interloper — Kincaid.

This seemed fair to him, and as they were still a fair distance from each other, Kincaid went back to his business in good faith, bristling only barely. But the next time he glanced up it was to see the other approaching, and so he paused again to give his full attention, standing straight and tall with his ears cupped forward in tacit acknowledgment.

Fortunately, the male did not seem to be there to tell him to bug off or roll over. Kincaid gave a slight but tentatively friendly wag of his tail at the question, and managed to broadcast a bit of belated amusement when he recognized the joke for what it was.

No sir, he replied, quiet humor still burring his gentle voice. Just makin' up my daybed.

As the other male has initiated the interaction, Kincaid was not shy about stepping forward — dropping his head and shoulders a fraction so as to appear unaggressive — to try and take in the other male's scent. He gleaned that his new acquaintance was in commendable health and of comparable age to himself. There was no trace of pack scent, but that did not necessarily mean they were in the same boat.

If you're lookin' for the other side, you're about as far off as you could be, said Kincaid, the timbre of his voice broadcasting that this was his idea of a clever joke, but you're headin' in the right direction.