Summary:Ambrose and 'Baskerville' run a quick errand to the gourmet pet store for the best it has to offer. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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It's a rare moment of stillness in the weather which would allow the gents of the Talbot-Atherton manor a chance for errands. Thus, on two feet and four alike, they made haste through the chill of the wintry air to the local pet supplies store. It's fairly massive, a veritable bounty of items from treats and toys to foods and grooming supplies, even a grooming parlor and do-it-yourself dog wash. They're a known item there, the brunet and his sleek large mastiff-mix, and when the automatic doors open, there's immediately a 'squeee!' from the front register.
It's Claudia, she of great affection and appreciation for 'Baskerville' the dog. Ambrose laughs and returns her wave. She's got someone at her register, but already, she's reaching for the biscuit jar.
Well well, your audience awaits, Ambrose teases Kent along the kythe as he reaches down to scritch-scratch lightly at the great black hound's ears.
I am an extremely fine specimen, and the ladies here are connoisseurs, The kythe is positively oily with his self-satisfaction, as he trots along, head held high. It's only right that they appreciate me. He has a handsome gray quilted coat on. It brings out the color of his eyes.
Then he's padding for her register, and sits down in dignified expectation. Observe my shiny black nose, madame.
"Ohhhhhhh, Baskerville, you dignified gentleman, you," coos Claudia even as she's bagging up cans. The middle-aged man at the register is eyeing 'Baskerville' with lifted eyebrows. By the cans he's buying, he's either got a cat or a small dog, nothing even CLOSE to the size of the mastiff-mix. "He's a regular and he's got a great shake. Here, I'll show you." She's clearly showing off the Hound for the other customer at this point.
I think you've a stomach for biscuits and they know it. Ambrose, with hands in his near-trenchcoat pockets, saunters over to stand nearby the properly-seated hound. He's got his black scarf lazily looped about his neck for warmth. "Thank you for the treats, Claudia," he says in advance to the cashier before giving her a warm smile.
"Oh sure, no problem." There's the receipt for the guy's can purchase and she then holds out an empty hand towards 'Baskerville'. "Alright, you handsome devil, shake!" Of course, there's THREE biscuits for the Molossus-type dog as reward.
He's an enormous thing, isn't he, sleek and black with those startlingly pale eyes. They serve very good biscuits here. And Kent is unashamedly greedy for them. So he gently deposits a massive black paw in her reaching palm, shakes decorously. This sleek villain, this dark avenger, doing tricks in a pet store. But then, he does enjoy abandoning his human dignity, doesn't he?
"Oh, best boy!!!" Three delicious high-quality biscuits for the gentleman in his canine guise. Ambrose rolls his eyes mildly to himself. "And a kiss on your head." Claudia leans in to plant one right between those striking pale eyes before she gently smooshes his ears around. "What are you guys in for tonight?"
"I thought I might let Baskerville's nose wander. We have been cooped up with the weather. It seems only fair that he pick whatever he wants to keep him content, hmm?" replies Ambrose to the cashier.
"Go check out the bones we got in. They're moose, out of Canada, huge old things. I think he'd like one of the femurs. It's on the end of aisle four." Claudia points towards the main aisle. "They're buy two, get one right now for the holidays."
Ambrose glances down at the Hound. His smile is ever so fond. "Hmm. What say you to that, old boy? Lead on?"
I have never had moose bones, Kent muses. He permits the fondling of his ears - the link is thrumming with satisfaction. Yes, Ambrose caresses him in all his forms, but this is the adulation he's sure he's due. A happy squint for the kiss….and once she's gone back to her duties, he gets up, shakes himself enough to make ears and jowls flap (she loves this and he knows it), then goes pattering for the end of aisle four…..giving every sign of having understood precisely what she just said.
Claudia does giggle at the sound of loose flops of skin slapping about — always — predictable as the dawn. "What a smart cookie." She leans out across the register's counter to watch the Hound pad away towards the end cap.
"He has his moments, the beloved galumpus." Ambrose grins as he too gets a chuckle out of the cashier. He then follows behind at a more sedate pace to meet up with the great black dog at the collection of moose bones.
They're massive things wrapped in shrunken plastic weighing a good number of pounds. "I admit it, I am impressed." Ambrose leans to squint at the price tag. He blows a low whistle. "Quality is to be paid for." Kneeling down, it brings his head to at shoulder-height to 'Baskerville', proof of how big the dog is in his build. He lifts a bone with two hands and inspects the tag. "…truly, they are from Canada, I see no sign of improper labeling."
The moon-pale eyes get wide, and he gives the thing a thorough sniffing over, before clearing his nose with a snort. Well, I can afford it. And I want it. That'll last me *ages*, He works on bones the way other men smoke cigarettes. A kind of fidgeting, really.
Then he swings his head around and slaps his tongue over Ambrose's cheek. Because that never gets old.
One would think the Jackal would see this shenanigan coming, but no. Ambrose still hasn't lost his faith in public decorum, but…that's a human problem, not one of canine persuasion. He stifles the usual "AUGH" into something more like "WAAAaaughblugh! SKERVY!" at a more appropriate volume and swipes his forearm across his face.
"You are lucky I adore you, heart and soul, you dratted dog," he then mutters. Claudia, having seen this, is laughing behind her hands. "Right, well." Dignified sniff. "It is buy two, get one, and as such, we will be going home with three."
Ambrose takes a quick moment to lean in and blow a raspberry against the Hound's ear-flap regardless. Three moose femurs are gathered up into the master-thief's arms before he rises. "Anything else to suit your fancies, your jowly highness?" With femur bones balanced, he drops his free hand for snuffles and to gently stroke along the Hound's neck.
He leans into it….and then fully leans into Ambrose, bearing him down with one shoulderblade. It's like having a semi truck decide that it wants to be affectionate. I want more of those peanut butter droplet things, he decrees, grandly. What about you? Oh, pig ear scraps for you. We can share them. Like dog Doritos.
Ambrose stumbles and nearly loses the wrapped moose femurs in a loud clattering of bone on floor. He laughs regardless and plants his weight back to shove at the big dog.
"Right, right, old boy, the droplets, how could I have forgotten. Oh, and the ear strips, yes. They are like potato chips for you," he opines aloud as he then leads the way into aisles four and five, the 'body parts' aisles. And slices of cake for me. A pleased jackal 'murr' echoes in the kythe; the far-smaller shift tends to enjoy the ear slices greatly beneath the couch. Guarding behavior dies a hard death with this one.
Peanut butter droplets are also lifted from the other end cap and Ambrose pauses at a nearby holiday display. "Oh, look, peppermint shampoo. It claims it will make any pet smell 'briskly fresh as the striped candy'." He then frowns at it. "I cannot imagine smelling of candy, let us not indulge that."
Because it's far easier to trounce the wee Jackal into the bathtub than it is the great Hound.
I like peppermint soap in the summer, he offers, amiably. It's true - Kent does favor the organic liquid stuff for the tingly coolness it offers, then. I'm glad we don't have to bathe each other in that form. Now there's an image - Kent cradling a sodden jackal in the shower.
He licks his whiskers thoughtfully. Two bags of pig ear scraps.
Myself as well. I cannot imagine having to regularly bathe a dog your size. I mean no disrespect, of course, «azizam». You are just…formidable. Ambrose, glancing down at the Hound, shrugs and gestures with his free hand. "But yes, two bags of the ear slices, I think," he agrees aloud. Dexterous as he always is, the master-thief manages to hook two bags of the dried pork scraps over a finger. Now he truly looks the part of a professed pet-lover with his arms full of goodies.
"Anything else?" Even as he asks, Ambrose casts a look at the store beyond, his brows wrinkled as if he might remember something off some half-forgotten list.
Forgetting himself, he shakes his head, that human gesture….and then catches it, turns it into an ear-flapping shake and hind paw scratch. Oops, broke character there for a moment. The reusable bags are in your coat pocket, I put them there.
Then he gets up in a jingle-jangle of tags, and heads for the cash registers.
Excellent cover, my heart. It's a true compliment by its mental nuances. I would do well to be more mindful myself. Only the other day, a small child nearly outed me. He slips the Hound a brief few seconds of memory in which a fourth grade was quite convinced that 'the little dog nodded, Mommy!'
In the wake of the large black mastiff-mix, his human arrives at the register and carefully sets down his haul. Ambrose then pulls out the reusable bags.
Claudia pipes right up. "Oh, good for you, Mister Atherton, using those bags." Ambrose chuckles despite himself, amused at her enthusiasm.
"Thank Baskerville, Claudia. He was adamant that we not leave the abode without them." There goes the biscuit jar rattling. And have your biscuits, she's reaching to reward you for this. The biscuits are left in easy reach of the Hound's mouth on the lower portion of the bagging end of the counter. Claudia then is brisk about ringing up their collection of items. Ambrose pays with cash, as is his wont, and then takes the reusable bags brimming with specially-chosen delights.
"You have a good night, you two. We'll see you again," the cashier grins at the two of them, twiddling her fingers.
"Of course. He's a bottomless pit." Ambrose winks at Claudia and gets the inevitable blush. "Enjoy your night, milady." He gets a hand-wave at that one before she turns back to deal with the next customer. Lead on then, my heart.