Chapter Text
Spock had exerted a great deal of thought, effort, and planning into his gift for Kirk. For the past several months, he had researched reputable adoption centers where he could acquire a small canine specimen meeting his exact qualifications within the necessary timeline. He had also endeavored to ensure that the animal had not been obtained or handled in an unethical manner.
There were, unfortunately, a great number of unethical breeders and peddlers of pets on the galactic market, much to Spock’s disgust. Spock, unlike his captain, did not identify as a “dog-lover”, but he valued life and firmly believed that all lifeforms deserved to be treated with kindness and respect. It was inconceivable to him that someone would choose to treat any lifeform poorly for one’s own financial or personal gain.
Ultimately, Spock had been successful in his efforts. This was not surprising. Spock was intelligent and highly competent, and was thus accustomed to succeeding when he’d decided to apply himself to the task at hand.
The puppy met all of Spock’s qualifications as a suitable companion for the captain. First, she was a friendly, domesticated canine accustomed to being handled by humans. Second, she possessed an extremely diminutive stature, and her teeth were small enough that they were unlikely to represent a safety concern to the captain or anyone else. Given that the animal was still an extremely young juvenile (with an estimated age of around 8 weeks), Spock assumed she would grow larger than her current size, but she was unlikely to weigh more than 4-5 pounds, even fully grown.
Lastly, her physical attributes were consistent with traits that Spock knew the captain would consider “adorable.” The animal’s pure white fur was soft, voluminous, and undoubtedly pleasing to the touch. The person at the shelter with whom Spock had been corresponding listed her breed as a Pomeranian. Further research on the breed had indicated that Pomeranians were “small dogs with big personalities.” They were known to be smart, playful, and loving—all of which were ideal attributes.
The Pomeranian puppy had been discovered on a nearby planetoid by a local inhabitant who had awoken one morning to find the dog sleeping next to them in their bed. This came as a considerable shock for them, as they did not own a dog, and reported having never seen this particular dog before in their life. In any case, they were unable to keep the animal and had instead surrendered it to a local rescue.
Spock corresponded with the head of the pet adoption center for over two weeks to coordinate pickup on Starbase 23, where the Enterprise was scheduled to stop for supplies only a few days before their winter holiday party, which the captain held on the ship every year. It took considerable creativity to prevent Jim from discovering Spock’s plan, but this was, in Spock’s opinion, fully worth the effort. He had been led to believe that the surprise factor was an integral part of the Terran gift giving tradition, after all.
And so, it was with great anticipation and bated breath that Spock led the blindfolded captain through their shared bathroom and into Spock’s own quarters, where the puppy was waiting. Spock had taken the liberty of obtaining necessary supplies, including dog food suited to her dietary needs, “pee pads”, a bed, and an aesthetically pleasing collar adorned with a red bow.
Spock was, of course, prepared for the possibility that the captain might opt not to take on responsibility for the animal if he believed himself to be unsuitable for the task, given the already significant responsibilities he bore by virtue of his role as captain of the Enterprise. In this case, Spock was prepared to find the dog a loving home. He was not prepared; however, for him to open the door only to find that the puppy was no longer on the bed, where he had left her, nor did she seem to be anywhere else.
Next to him, Jim was already removing the blindfold. “Alright, Mr. Spock. What’s the big surprise?”
Spock failed to repress a frown as he submitted the suspiciously dog-free room to a brief visual inspection. When that did not yield the expected result, Spock began searching for the dog more actively, even crawling on his hands and knees to check underneath the desk.
“Spock?” Jim asked.
“I am…unable to explain it, Captain. The animal was in my quarters when I left to speak with you only 2.3 minutes ago.”
“The…animal?” Jim asked. “You…God, you didn’t get me a TRIBBLE, did you?”
Spock sighed. He had once heard McCoy use the expression: the cat is out of the bag. In this case, it was the dog, not the cat, that was out of the bag…but the fact remained that the secret would no longer remain so.
“No, Captain. Given our past experiences with tribbles, I would not have presumed to bring one onto this ship, certainly not without your express permission.”
Jim audibly sighed in relief.
Spock continued. “The animal I am searching for is a dog. Specifically, I procured a small Pomeranian puppy for you…as a gift. My observations of your interactions with canid species resembling earth canines has led me to believe that you hold a particular affinity for them.”
Jim smiled. “That’s…incredibly sweet of you, Spock.”
Spock did not turn to look at him from where he crouched on the ground, peeking beneath one of the red curtains that adorned the walls of his quarters. He had never realized before just how many curtains there were until it became necessary for him to investigate each and every one of them for a hidden canine.
“It was a logical choice, Captain. Your recent affect suggests a significant decrease in psychological well-being. It is my understanding that Terran dogs are frequently bred to serve as ‘emotional-support’ animals.”
Spock was beginning to regret his decision to procure such a small animal. He had been concerned about the risk posed by a large dog’s teeth. However, the fact remained that a larger dog would be considerably easier to locate in a situation such as this.
From behind him, Spock heard Jim laugh good-humoredly. “Well, Spock…wherever the dog is, it couldn’t have gone far, right? I’m sure it’ll show up eventually. Besides, it’s the thought that counts, and you’ve clearly put a lot of thought into this. That, more than anything, means a great deal to me.”
Spock was undeniably warmed by the captain’s words, but at the same time, he could not deny his disappointment. Regardless of what the captain said, the thought of a gift was NOT a sufficient gift. Spock was unwilling to settle for it, especially not as a gift for Jim.
Meanwhile, there was a small, unaccompanied canine running loose somewhere in his room…or elsewhere on the ship. Spock did not know how the animal could have escaped, but he was at a loss to explain where she had gone.
Spock rose to his feet and looked helplessly over at Jim, who beamed back at him, looking pleased despite the (in Spock’s opinion) less than amusing circumstances. Jim approached him and clapped a steady hand on his shoulder.
“The dog’ll turn up, Spock. Don’t worry so much.”
Spock sighed.
Kirk continued. “I’m just relieved it’s not a tribble. The last thing I want to do is wake up and find myself neck deep in tribbles…again. In comparison, a little Pomeranian will be no trouble at all…even if it is…somewhat of an escape artist.”
These turned out to be, as Dr. McCoy might have said— “famous last words.”