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The gate creaked softly, its paint worn thin along the edges. The white wasn’t really white anymore — dust and soil had claimed the bottom half, staining it a tired brown.
Eren paused a moment, hand resting on the metal bar. He could fix that. Oil the hinges, sand it down, repaint it properly when he had the time.
A blur of gold suddenly flashed past the small window on the door.
He snorted. “You little menace.”
The dog already knew he was here.
Probably smelled him from halfway down the road.
Eren could already see the tongue lolling, hear the panting from inside — fast, excited, completely unhinged.
The door hinge creaked as he slipped through the gate, pulling it shut behind him. He planted his feet, shoulders loose, bracing for the impact he knew was coming.
The door hadn’t even opened all the way when a streak of gold launched at him like a missile.
The dog slammed into him chest-first, paws scrabbling, nearly knocking him back a step.
Eren caught him on instinct. “Yeah, yeah. I missed you too, idiot.”
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Eren heard the slow tap of footsteps before he saw him — the walking stick first, then the worn brown shoes.
The old man was smiling.
“Eren, thank you for doing this so often.”
Eren grinned. “No problem, Mr. Bennet I like doing it.”
The leash was passed to him, and with practiced ease, Eren bent down and slipped it around the dog’s neck. Without prompting, the dog sat immediately, tail thumping against the ground.
Both humans chuckled.
“Of course you know what’s going on, don’t you?” Eren murmured.
Before the leash was even secured, the dog was up again, already pulling him toward the gate.
“Hey, hey, slow down… We’ve got time. Don’t worry. You’ll get to chase plenty of birds out there.”
Mr. Bennett just smiled. “I hope you won’t get too tired, Eren.”
Eren smiled fondly, the hand not holding the leash smoothing over the dog’s fur. Watching the tail thump wildly, he was reminded of himself when he was younger — eager to prove himself, running blindly with a leap of faith.
“I won’t, sir. I’m still young.”
Yeah, Eren still had that energy from back then. It hadn’t disappeared — he just controlled it better now.
Eren straightened, and the dog followed instantly.
“Let’s go, shall we?” he said, waving to the old man.
The road from Mr. Bennett’s place was narrow and old, paved with uneven stone. Parts of the neighborhood were shaded by tall trees, hanging lamps strung between them by the villagers.
One of the white houses had a large garden. The mischievous dog had almost leapt in once, giving Eren a heart attack.
A child from the red-brick house waved excitedly. Eren slowed down, letting them have their moment. Through the gate, small hands reached out to pet the dog’s head.
Even the dog seemed to understand he couldn’t do anything reckless here — he sat immediately, tail thumping against the ground.
After getting their fill of attention, the little girl ran back to the house excitedly, and the dog barked a cheerful goodbye.
Eren walked on at an easy pace toward the town center. As he passed the market, he noticed a new stand surrounded by a small crowd. He made a mental note to check it out later.
A few blocks down, a green-painted shop came into view, its doors and windows trimmed in white. Several tables and chairs were set outside, surrounded by short decorative fences. The flowers in the planters seemed to be blooming especially brightly today.
Instead of going through the front entrance, Eren headed for the side window the employees usually used. He only used that way when making deliveries, but since he had brought a dog today, he didn’t want to disturb the other customers.
He couldn’t tie the dog to the small decorative fence, which left him with only one option.
Eren knocked on the door. The small window at the top gave him a partial view of the kitchen inside. He could see the owner — a striped bandana covering her short white hair, a mid-length dress, and a brightly colored apron.
Hearing the knock, the woman looked up. Her face showed clear surprise before she moved to open the door.
“Eren? What a surprise. You’re not delivering today, are you?”
“No, ma’am. I just wanted to say hi and buy some bread, but I’ve got this big-ass puppy with me, and I don’t want him making a mess inside.”
The lady’s eyes twinkled when she noticed the dog. She crouched slightly, hands on her knees, cooing, “Well hello there. I didn’t see you at first — you’re so cute and energetic today. Have you been having fun?”
The dog barked in response and immediately tried to squeeze past her to get inside. Thankfully, Eren had already wrapped the extra length of leash around his other hand, so the dog couldn’t get far.
“Oh, sorry, ma’am. He’s impatient, haha.”
“It’s okay, Eren. You said you wanted to buy bread, didn’t you?”
“Oh, um, can I have a bagel and a muffin?”
“Of course. Just wait a bit, Eren.”
Eren smiled slightly, one hand still trying to keep the dog from barging into the kitchen. He couldn’t blame him — the smell in there was heavenly.
Eren heard the bell at the front chime again, followed by a burst of laughter.
Seems like the bakery’s business was good today.
Street sounds drifted in — footsteps, children playing somewhere nearby.
The dog heard it too.
Before anything could happen, Eren tightened his grip on the leash. Right on cue, the dog began vibrating in place, body wiggling toward the alleyway, tail wagging nonstop.
“Sit,” Eren muttered.
The dog did not sit.
He just stared at Eren. And vibrated.
Eren sighed through his nose — not annoyed, just used to it — and looped the leash around his wrist while digging coins out of his pocket as he heard the lady coming back.
“Here, Eren. I added an extra. It was too ugly to sell.”
Eren grinned. More for him.
…or for the dog.
They ended up outside.
Eren took the chair farthest from the door, long legs stretched out, back curved slightly forward. The dog immediately climbed halfway onto his lap like he paid rent.
Eren didn’t push him off. He just adjusted, one hand automatically scratching behind the dog’s ear while he chewed his bread slowly, staring out at the street.
Vendors calling.
A kid crying.
Someone laughing too loud.
When Eren finished, he looked down at the dog. The dog’s eyes, of course, were locked onto the bread. At least he didn’t pounce, Eren mused.
Eren grabbed another piece, and the dog immediately hopped off his lap and sat straight, like he’d already been given an order.
Eren raised a brow. “At least you were a better kid than I was.”
He tore the bread bit by bit, feeding him slowly.
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The dog vacuumed everything Eren gave him.
The speed he chewed — or more like slurped — was astounding.
All that energy went straight back into running and tugging at the leash. Eren watched him for a moment, then sighed.
“Where do you even want to go?”
Eren walked at an easy pace, letting the dog pull ahead. He could have run, but he wasn’t in the mood, and he’d just eaten. No way he was going to shake everything in his stomach around for no reason.
The dog kept pulling anyway, nails clicking against the ground, body leaning forward like the world was waiting just out of reach.
Eren followed.
Eren could smell the food from a distance.
The dog had just eaten, but it didn’t seem to matter. He moved like he had a second stomach somewhere, nose working the air, pulling Eren down the street with determined little steps.
Eren could already guess where this was heading.
“Unbelievable,” he muttered, though there was no real complaint in it.
The dog tugged again, steering them toward the busier part of town — where the smells were stronger and the sounds louder.
Eren sighed, but there was a hint of amusement in it. He could buy a thing or two. He wouldn’t deny the dog food.
Familiar shouting reached his ears. The meat vendor still had some leftovers to sell, calling out what sounded like a discounted price so he could finally head home. Other vendors were starting to pack up — clearing out what had sold, rearranging what hadn’t, wiping down their stalls.
Eren noticed the fruit vendor still open and headed that way. Some fruits were already gone — the apples were sold out — but a few bunches of grapes remained.
His gaze shifted.
Eren made a beeline for the mango slices.
It looked bright, golden, and already packed, they looked sweet enough that he didn’t think twice. He reached out and took one.
Eren paid for the slices.
Two kids came bounding over, slowing a few steps away as they spotted the dog. They stood there, whispering and giggling, watching him like he might disappear if they got too close.
The dog solved the problem by walking straight up to them.
Eren watched, amused. “You can pet him.”
Their eyes went wide, bright with excitement. “We can, mister?” one asked — but their hands were already reaching.
Small fingers buried into fur. One patted too fast, the other tried to hug the dog’s neck. The leash twisted between them as they shuffled closer, talking over each other in high, breathless voices.
The dog stood there, tail wagging hard enough to shake his whole back end, tongue out, accepting the attention like this was his life’s purpose.
Eren just shifted his grip on the leash so it wouldn’t slip and let them be.
“Aww, they’re so cute.”
Eren startled at the woman’s voice. A few other people nearby had paused to watch, soft smiles on their faces. It seemed like no one was immune to a scene like this. Eren could think of only a handful of people who wouldn’t be moved by such obvious cuteness.
One of the kids looked up at him. “Mister, what’s the dog’s name?”
Eren stared.
He blinked once. Twice.
“…I don’t know.”
The kid frowned. “No way. Your dog doesn’t have a name?”
The woman from the vendor stall raised her brows slightly, and Eren could practically see the thoughts forming — Did he just pick the dog up off the street? Does he even take care of it?
“It’s not mine,” Eren said simply, giving a small shrug.
The kid seemed to accept that immediately, attention already drifting back to the dog, so Eren didn’t bother explaining further.
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Later that day, they sat near the fountains.
Eren looked up at the sky quietly, watching the clouds drift by. One looked like a rabbit, another like a tree. He thought he could even make out a heart shape among them.
His gaze dropped.
The dog whipped his head left and right, panting — not from running, but probably from eating too much. People from the market had slipped him leftovers all afternoon.
How nice it must be, Eren thought, to be a dog. Just look at someone with bright eyes, wag your tail, and food appears. He was almost jealous.
“Hey.”
The dog turned his head toward him.
“Don’t tell your owner I let them feed you so much.”
Mr. Bennet would probably know anyway.
Old men always knew. Or maybe he was just easy to read.
“What’s your name, anyway?”
Eren stared at the dog.
The dog stared back.
A beat passed.
Then the dog turned his head away and let out a long, dramatic sigh.
Eren blinked. “Oh, so now you’re disappointed in me?”
“I won’t let you chase birds today,” Eren challenged the dog.
The dog whipped his head toward him, eyes narrowing in clear protest. One front paw lifted like Eren was about to deny him the most pleasurable thing a living organism had ever known.
Eren narrowed his eyes even more. Those who said animals couldn’t understand him better explain what kind of phenomenon he was witnessing right now.
Still staring at each other like rivals in a silent argument, Eren suddenly pushed himself to his feet.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he muttered, already turning away.
He started walking.
Not back toward the market. Not home either.
The dog hesitated only half a second before trotting after him.
Stone pavement gave way to packed dirt. The noise of the town thinned behind them, voices dissolving into wind and distant movement. Grass brushed against Eren’s boots as the path narrowed, trees rising ahead like they’d been waiting the whole time.
Eren didn’t announce where they were going.
He just walked.
And the dog followed.
The path sloped gently upward, gravel crunching under Eren’s boots. The dog’s earlier desperation to chase birds faded, replaced by frantic sniffing at every patch of grass.
Eren didn’t know where they were going. His feet moved automatically after the dog, turning left and right, ducking under branches, stepping over roots that clawed up from the ground. Even then, a few smacked against his shoulder and hair.
He laughed — loud, breathless, real. Like nothing was chasing him for once.
The dog suddenly skidded to a stop at the edge of a small clearing.
Eren slowed, chest heaving, lungs burning in the good way. He followed the dog’s line of sight.
Something moved in the trees.
A flicker of shadow.
A tremble in the leaves.
Eren’s eyes widened.
The world stretched thin.
Birds burst upward — wings beating hard, air snapping with the force of their takeoff. Leaves shook violently. The sound filled the clearing all at once.
The dog lunged.
The leash snapped tight.
Eren stumbled forward, boots losing grip on loose dirt as the force yanked his arm straight.
“Wait— NO!!”
The leash slipped from his hand. Eren broke into a desperate sprint, boots pounding hard against the slope. Thankfully, the dog was running downhill.
Unfortunately, Eren knew exactly what was downhill.
Mud.
Eren groaned at his luck. “Of course.”
“HEY— HEY, DOG!” he shouted, immediately realizing how ridiculous that sounded. If anyone saw him right now, they’d think he’d lost his mind — chasing a dog whose name he didn’t even know.
Ahead, a thick root jutted out from the ground. Eren took his chance, pushing off with all the momentum he had. He jumped.
His fingers brushed fur.
Missed.
He lunged again — and this time his hand caught the dog’s hind leg.
The dog yelped in surprise, legs tangling. Eren had nothing to grab, nothing to brace against.
They went down together.
Flat.
Right into the mud.
Eren lay there, breath knocked out of him.
“…Fuck.”
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Eren looked ridiculous. He wasn’t a child anymore, and yet no one seeing him right now would believe he was a grown man.
He trudged along the road, mud and dog saliva decorating his clothes. The dog trotted beside him happily, tongue out, not a single regret in its soul.
They must have been quite a sight.
The stone-paved road leading to Mr. Bennet’s house was getting dirtier with every step. Eren winced. Should he wash the dog? But that meant washing himself too. And he didn’t feel like intruding. He’d rather just go home and deal with it there.
His thoughts cut off when they reached the house gate. He hesitated a second before opening it. The dog immediately tried to bolt again, but Eren held firm this time. No more disasters.
He knocked and stepped back a few paces.
The door opened.
Mr. Bennet’s warm smile froze instantly.
Eren felt his face heat up.
“Um… sir. I’m sorry. I didn’t hold him tight enough. We went down the forest and… yeah… as you can see.”
Mr. Bennet stared.
Then he burst out laughing.
“Oh, Eren, it’s fine. I haven’t seen such an amazing sight in years!” he said, trying to catch his breath. “…..Last time was when my son fell off his bicycle.”
For a second, Eren wondered if Mr. Bennet still saw him as a grown man at all.
Eren had the sudden feeling he’d just been mentally downgraded to “reckless teenager.”
He wiped his eyes. “Speaking of my son, he’s visiting today. Leave the dog here — he’ll clean him. Come inside and take care of yourself.”
“Oh— no, Mr. Bennet, it’s okay. I’ll head home. And… is it really alright not to wash him?” Eren asked, still red.
“It’s fine, Eren. My son loves washing the dog. Tie him by the side.”
Eren did, saying his goodbyes.
Then he paused.
“Mr. Bennet?”
The old man looked at him expectantly.
“…What’s the dog’s name?”
Mr. Bennet laughed again. “Oh, Eren. You silly, silly child.”
Eren flushed deeper.
“It’s Bartholomeow.”
Eren blinked.
Bartholomeow.
Such a grand, majestic name.
Given to a dog who tripped over flower pots, chased birds, spun in circles after his own tail, shit everywhere, and had just dragged Eren face-first into mud.
“Bartholomeow…” Eren repeated weakly.
Mr. Bennet nodded proudly.
Eren nodded back.
Accepted it.
And walked home.
…Still covered in mud.