Lion Head Mesa Empty rooms are honest places

Gucci's attentions were ensnared by the very room they were in. As Crowfeather struggled to find words (the chihuahua ignorant to the effect his presence had upon the wolf) the other male strolled deeper into the chamber and began walking along its walls, admiring how the humans managed to craft it all to look so very rustic yet so very chic. "Oh, mah gosh, ahm jest lovin' this place! Real bohemian." He appraised a discarded bone, almost as big as he. How authentic!

It struck him then that, in his enamourment with the décor, he skipped a vital segment of this social interaction. He stiffened up and briskly turned to face the large dog, apologetic smile upon his flews. "Bless mah heart, ahve forgotten mah manners. M Georgia Honeys Veni Vidi Gucci, but Gucci's mah call name. The queenly person assigned me t' keep ya company, and ah hope we'll get along swimmin'ly!" 

He was beaming.