Stavanger Bay seagulls

Blossom was elongating.

No really, she was. Her baby down coat was shedding to become more vibrant, swapping out her greys for a much brighter off white. Her eyes had mingled in the middle of changing. She had shot up like a weed in the past week, her legs suddenly too long for her body and, hilariously, her neck fur took charge on getting longer so she appeared less like a puppy and more like a woman wrapped in a feather boa with a child’s face sticking over the top.

This new period of growth made her slightly grumpier than usual, and definitely clumsier, but she was no less happy for it. 

Today, she came tumbling to meet her father, her mouth open to release a cry akin to a garbage disposal sound mocked by a bird.

Pap! Papa! She was testing something new there. The nice lady, Vairee or whatever her name was, had been teaching her sometimes too, but she had smelled funny recently and Blossom hadn’t seen her so much. She slowed to a stop in front of Lestan, her little mouth opened in a wide smile as she pointed her overlarge paw at what he had.

That! What!