Domenico looked at the little fluffy dog staring at him from where it was curled up on a pile of laundry. The thing so insistently demanded access to the bathroom that Dom ended up letting it in, and now that he was dressed in a pair of Seth’s old sweatpants and a T-shirt that made him look like a scarecrow, Fluffy was still there.

Domenico sighed. “What is it?” Aren’t you hungry? Even I am hungry when I smell dinner.” Slowly, he picked up the little poodle, which weighed close to nothing, and limped to the living room. He held it like he would hold a baby, and frowned when he saw the little cock pouch and balls. “Is Fluffy gay?”