No. But that's okay.

You faintly hear "oh thank fuck" come from somewhere on the other side of the cubicle, followed by the rapid, heavy footsteps of Deborah answering your call.

"Have you selected a dog to interview?" Boy, she's terse. You're starting to wonder if you're keeping her from taking a lunch break.

"I think so, but I have a few questions." Tapping the picture of the shiba, you slide the tablet back to Deborah under the glass. "This one doesn't have a full profile, and she's come and gone from the roster several times."

Deborah looks over the profile, her lips puckering to the side. "Yeah, that one's a rescue, is why. We've only had her for a little while, but she's passed all her qualifying tests." Your eyebrows nearly flying off your face.

"A rescue?? Did she get pulled from a bad owner?" The very notion leaves you aghast. Stories of bad or abusive owners are incredibly rare, usually tied to illegal breeding mills or unsanctioned adoptions practices. Near everyone knows that K.A. is the only name to trust for canidus companion distribution!

"No idea, actually. She showed up alone with no owner, and no one came to claim her during the probationary search. She didn't have a chip or any profile to speak of, so she's as good as a fresh graduate. Not to worry though, we've chipped her and done all the necessary health exams. She's not damaged or deformed, and is still young. We don't show inadequate companions here."

A sour flavor curled the tongue in your mouth at Deborah's words. Damaged. Fresh. Inadequate. Talking about a living, breathing creature like a piece of meat just didn't feel right. Canidus have feelings and emotions, too. They should be respected more than that.

Nodding to yourself, you meet eyes with Deborah and speak with undue seriousness. "I want to see this one for an interview."

Deborah did little to mask her relief of being done with you. "Of course, sir. I'll inform her caretaker and give you a room number shortly."

"Thanks, Deborah." Please, please let the caretaker be nicer than her.

With an interview ticket in hand, you now wait patiently in yet another small, minimally decorated room. The wallpaper is split horizontally down the middle; white on top and a placid blue below, with a simple textured border on the floor and ceiling. A small terminal lays dormant on the opposite side wall, near the door you expect the dog and caretaker to come through eventually. Very soft elevator music pumps through some speakers inlaid into the walls, likely to keep the atmosphere (and the dogs) as calm as possible during the interview process. You bet you could fall asleep in a room like this if your nerves weren't so frazzled about the impending event. Even if not your ideal pick, or... even close, really... you're about to meet a canidus! An adoptee! A potential companion! Your brimming excitement from earlier today starts to bud up again, filling your gut with nervous bubbles.

The chair beneath you squawks in the otherwise quiet room as you startle, hearing the far door clack and creak open. Now alert, you watch a lovely woman you can only describe as an elementary school teacher enter the room. A charming yet patient smile, simple buttoned blouse and form-fitting leggings, her eyes are down and behind her as she moves from the doorway.

"Come on, sweetie. This is the last interview today, I promise," she murmurs. In one hand she holds a tablet, and in the other she draws forward a small, almond-colored arm. You swallow softly, bracing yourself as the little shiba comes into view.

The profile images used in the browser only showed the dogs from the shoulders up, so you're more than surprised when there's... more... of the shiba than you expected. She can't be more than four feet tall, but she has wider hips than some of the more human-sized breeds! The standard issue service pants she'd been given to wear hugged tightly to her hips, straining the fabric while having to be rolled up around her ankles. They must not have pants both short and wide enough for her frame. There's also a rather impressive swell to her chest for her size, also stuffed into an ill-fitting mini-blouse with gaps in the buttons. What the hell are they feeding their dogs??

A perky, sweet voice snaps you back to attention, as well as a hand brought forward to shake. "Hello, Mr. Gray!" Oh thank god, already an improvement. "My name is Jessica and I'm Winnie's caretaker. I'll be happy to answer any questions you still have. You had us worried for a moment," she giggles. "We thought you weren't going to sign up for any interviews!"

You chuckle along with her, drawing on her cheerful energy as you shake her hand. "Nice to meet you both! I kept telling myself I was for-sure going to get a companion today, so it'd be almost criminal not to at least have an interview or two."

Winnie, now that you know her puppy name, seems disinterested. Her eyes scan around the room instead of you, paying no mind while you converse with Jessica. How odd... shouldn't she be clambering for your attention? Trying to promote herself as a good fit? It's already not looking good for her, you think.

"I got a few answers from the clerk, but I'd like to hear what you think, as her caretaker."

"Sure! Go right ahead." Jessica's pep is such a breath of fresh air, you may very well cry. Instead, you start posing your questions.

"So, her profile says she's a shiba, yes? I guess since she's a rescue, you can't confirm whether she's purebred or not."

"I'm afraid not, but her medical exams told us that if she's not a pure shiba, she's pretty close, so you can likely expect a shiba temperament from her."

"And her age?"

"Exams and her report line up that she's about twelve, so not much older than our standard adoptees." Twelve. Well past the cusp of maturity for canidus, but still youthful. You'd equate that to about 20-ish in human years, give or take. That would make her about your age! How convenient.

"Speaking of rescue, you said her name is Winnie? Did she come with the name, or...?"

Jessica shook her head. "When we found her, she said she didn't have a name. Since we didn't find any identification on her, we gave her the temporary puppy name Winnie. We all voted on it because she's small, yellow, and sweet as honey." Your heart buckled at the cuteness of Jessica's explanation, the woman giggling at your expression.

"Fat."

Both of you look down, Winnie staring at the floor with big, empty eyes.

You clear your throat. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Winnie name Winnie because small, yellow, and fat."

Jessica bit her lip, slightly put off. "One of the other caretakers said it in jest when he thought she couldn't hear, and it kind of stuck with her. He got quite an earful for it, given that Winnie's clearly been through enough. Poor thing. She came to use in the middle of the night some time ago, lost and confused and naked as a jaybird." Winnie flinched at Jessica's words, obviously embarrassed.

The little canidus gave you pause. She was obviously so uncomfortable... but can you blame her? She isn't a K.A. graduate. She's a rescue. Her cute face gets her picked for interviews again and again, but the heavy baggage she's carrying must be a turn-off for the other applicants. Most people want a peppy and upbeat companion, ready to jump right into service and toward a new life.

Maybe a change of perspective is in order.

You give Jessica a calming stare and a smile before kneeling down toward Winnie. Her long mane of blonde hair rustles softly as she turns to face you, wary and unsure. She looks quite puzzled, taking a step back nervously.

"Winnie. Are you okay?" It would be a stupid question to ask a person in her position, but a canidus... best to start simple.

"Sir... ask Winnie?" She tilted her head, brows furrowed. Big, vibrant amber-brown eyes stayed honed onto yours, cautiously reading into your every motion. Mistrustful. Scared.

You nod. "I thought, maybe, that you'd like to answer the questions yourself, instead of Jessica talking for you." You hear Jessica make a soft sound behind you, but she doesn't intervene.

Winnie pouts, eyes crossing a little as she thinks about your words. Finally, she gives you a nod. "Winnie try. Thank you, Sir." God damn, she's cute.

"Okay. Do you not like the name Winnie?"

She thinks a moment, briefly looking up at Jessica, then back at you. "No like, but okay. Owner pick Winnie, get new name. Winnie wait."

That's right. Puppy names are only used until a canidus gets chosen as a companion. At that point, the owner picks a new name for them, to cement their role to their new master. You're rather surprised at Winnie's answer, showing more maturity than you expect in younger dogs. Then again, she is a little older, so perhaps that accounts for it.

"That's a good answer." She smiles a little at you, but it doesn't reach her eyes, which stay trained on yours. "Winnie, do you want to be a companion?"

Her eyes widen, furthering her confusion. "All dog kom-pan-yun." Kind of a big word for her.

"That's not what I asked. Do you want to be a companion?"

Instead of dawdling, wondering why you're asking such a thing, she simply nods. "Winnie want home. Winnie work."

"Fair enough," you mutter with a smirk. You glance back at Jessica, who also seems to have no idea what you're trying to accomplish, before you continue. "I only have one question that really matters." This makes Winnie stiffen, more alert and focused on you than before. "May I have your hand for a moment?"

As you lay out your palm to her, she startles back, nose quietly sniffling at the air around you. Eyes closed, you wait patiently for an answer, making yourself as relaxed and unintimidating at possible.

You wait.

And you wait.

Finally, after a cold, unsure minute or so, you feel warmth on your hand. The smooth, spongy skin of her fingers; genetic remnants of the footpad her ancient ancestors used to have. Her hand is so small, easily swallowed up in yours. At first, you can still feel the tension in her muscles, ready to yank her hand back at any sign of a threat... but after a moment, she relaxes, letting the meager weight of her hand nestle against yours.

Slowly, very slowly, you let your fingers wrap around her hand, delicately cradling it. Your eyes open, seeing Winnie up close, huge brown eyes gawking at you, chest rising with short, anxious breaths.