"I wonder... if I could find someone to make him a soft toy that looks like Puppy." He doesn't enjoy thinking about when the child will leave, but of course he must. He can't stay here forever. Cullen is no kind of father figure. He just happens to be the best they have at the moment.

He watches the three of them tumble around in the grass and dried leaves, the young boy running back and forth between the two large dogs, being almost herded by them. They don't play gently, exactly, but they are also quick to grab at his clothes or nudge him in ways that keep him from hitting the ground too hard. Not gentle, no, but they're watching over him.