Sun Mote Copse i’m gonna pop some tags, only got $20 in my pocket

He was incredibly curious about the new presence in the den. She smelled vaguely familiar, though Skipjack had never heard anyone speak in such a distinct voice. She hadn’t said much, though, and just now she was sleeping. He kept trying to sneak closer to investigate, though ma kept guiding him back toward the front of the cottage and, eventually, outdoors.

Skip forgot all about his prodigal grandmother as he nosed around the little dooryard in front of The Taigh. While most pups’ vision would’ve become clearer and sharper by now, his world only grew dimmer. He could still make out light and shadow, though details were increasingly lost in the murkiness. He hardly noticed, exploring the world with his senses of smell and touch.

Sometimes, he didn’t bother opening his eyes at all. They tended to get irritated, particularly when he was outside. He paused and raised his head to rub at them now. Skip blinked a few times as if to clear vision that barely existed, then resumed his bumbling. He sensed something—no, someone—looming in his path and slowed, wee nose wriggling.