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It’s happening again.
But this time, Hanji won’t do a thing about it. Nope. Nada. Last time they interfered, they ended up as an amalgamation of a tiger, zebra, raccoon, and tomato paste. The stings from the antibiotic Moblit had to smear onto those scratches— Nay, slices —can still be felt whenever they handle anything reminiscent of a less than pleasing ball of furry ire; namely, anything sharp, anything dark, and anything the size of a medium can of coke. So this time? They’re doing absolutely nothing. Nothing, except for flipping the sign to ‘closed,’ sauntering to the counter, gracelessly flopping their booty onto the chair, and listlessly leaning back to relax and watch the—
Too far back, that’s too far back! —
The crash jolts the 2-month old German Shepherd out of its slumber. As his head perks up to look out the glass window of its cage, he spots a tiny claw brushing against the corner, flailing to catch the edge. The sight instantly eradicates all traces of sleep within the puppy, and he leaps from his lie to dart towards the front, tail rapidly wagging side to side that it becomes a mere blurry mirage. He barks, high-pitched and giddy.
(“Levi! Levi! Levi! Le—”)
A sharp meow intercepts.
(“Shut up.”)
The American Curl stretches, and it stretches, and it stretches even more because why is this so hard to reach . Farther, then farther, and the claws finally hook around the glass. Now with a more or less proper grip, he squeezes the rest of his body out of the gap between his own glass cage and the platform above him in order to vault to the other side.
But his other paw slips on the window, and the cat falters and thumps against the dull glass belonging to the puppy’s cage, shocking both animals. Moreso on one rather than the other.
Another bark, louder.
(“Careful! Levi, be careful!”)
Another meow, loudest .
(“Shut up!”)
It’s not like this was a walk in a park!
…
That’s not funny.
As the cat tries his best to pull himself back up, the other animal reaches up to stand on his hind legs, snout closer to a button nose. Panting and sniffing the feline, tongue lolling out as he stretches to move closer to twitching whiskers and an ever persistent glare, pawing at the glass; the sound of scraping overshadowed by excitable barking and exasperated meowing.
(“Help! I help!”)
(“Stop that.”)
(“I help!”)
(“Move.”)
(“I help!”)
(“For fuck’s sake, Eren— OUT OF THE WAY!”)
And the puppy continues to lick at the cat’s face, even more so as the feline’s back legs push and push against the glass to eventually maneuver his body over the gap, and gracefully flopping inside the cage. The puppy yips and immediately smothers the smaller animal, tongue all over the other, legs climbing over and over again but eventually ending with his entire being comfortably snug atop the cat, chin resting on a dark head. His tail evanesces into a plane higher than its blurriness, practically nonexistent with the extremity of its wagging, a wild contrast to the rather tame yet slightly twitchy rise of the other animal's tail.
(“Levi’s here! Levi’s here! Le—”)
A soft meow intercepts.
(“Shut up.”)
When Hanji stands up, they sigh at the sight in front of them. But then they shrug, because it really can’t be helped and who cares if it’s for sanitation purposes Erwin, this isn’t worth all those wounds, why don’t you try to grab him while they’re the one holding the cage open with three layers of sleeves on and a beige motorcycle helmet to match.
So, with all that, they’re back to doing nothing. Nothing, except for snatching up a single sticky note from the counter, nabbing a marker out of their collar, sauntering towards the cages, and plastering the paper onto the glass. The message, scrawny yet comprehensible.
‘DO NOT SEPARATE’