Whitefish River I Can't Believe There's Somethin' Left in My Chest Anymore

After his blatant confession earlier in the year, the immediate rejection, Ira even explained it to him very clearly that she didn't think capable of love or romance - that she either didn't see him in such light or that she had much more important things to think of than such trivial things. After that, even with her pregnant from two other male's litter (surrogate he knows), he still had feelings. It was something he couldn't ignore, but he did as he promised. Took a step back and simply enjoyed her presence from afar. He could be happy like that, he was happy like this.

So he didn't push. 

She was like a painting now, a beautiful portrait to observe in awe. 

He had not even an inkling of what might be happening within her own thoughts, not even a desire to try to read into anything. The painted man was blissfully unaware. 

At her words his tail swayed, the playful tone was obvious enough and he took the bait. Do I hear a challenge for the rights of the river, Count? His tone was exaggerated, like one of those knights in a children's movie. He left little time for her to respond, with a pounce he aimed for a splash entrance in the water with little elegance in his "cannonball" until after all four paws felt the solid ground beneath them again. Once again he struck a gallant pose, ready to earn the right to bathe.