Honeyed Pasture [m] Moonflower

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Two wolves made eyes at one another from across a stream. Perhaps they were destined to cross paths, their slim, muscular bodies twining together in nature’s most sensual dance. Maybe their magnificent genes would combine to create the most perfect offspring, championing the theory of natural selection.

Enter: Meatball. Breathing like a winded hippopotamus, he pounded onto the scene and cannon-balled into the water right in between the pair of strangers. When he came up for air, he spat a fountain of water at the male (very handsome, super sleek), then turned to the female (a solid nine) with his tongue lolling from his mouth.

Smoothly slicking back his wet ears with a hammy fist, he said, How you doin’?