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[good_dug]

So there is pretty much only one thing that makes Dug happy. And that is - well, okay, two things.

Three.

Four. No, five. Six. Seven - and you know what, it's probably easier to say that there aren't a lot of things that don't make him happy. But high up on that list is food, especially food he doesn't have to do anything except for a little begging to get. And it just so happens that this place, this interesting magical place, well...it's got something pretty special. And that something would be a magical bar that gives Dug whatever food he asks for, at least until he gets cut off because he's already devoured roughly three times his own bodyweight in assorted raw meats.

Do you know what that means, Milliways? It means that Dug is one very, very happy dog. He's also very asleep at the moment, sprawled on his back in front of the fire with all four paws in the air, snoring and occasionally passing wind as his legs twitch with exciting dreams of chasing and capturing birds. Occasionally, his collar picks up a stray thought and translates it quietly, the Dug version of sleep-talking.

It seems like it'd be a shame to wake him. After all, it's not like he's completely blocking several armchairs, not to mention the route to the fire...oh, he is?

Well.

Maybe someone should wake him up. But nicely, of course. With plenty of tummy scritches.

[ooc: I sense a sleep coming on - slowtimes for all, new tags always welcome and always picked up! *mwah*]

Comments

[ubertracker.livejournal.com]

Dug is blocking the route to the fire.

A certain cat is Somewhat Displeased to discover this. But, unfortunately, he's not going to wake the dog to get to the fire.

Cue one very large cat, sneaking between two armchairs in an effort to find a path to the fire.

[good_dug]

In Dug's sleep, his nose twitches. And again.

That's a smell that can wake a dog from even a sound, food induced coma, and sure enough one eye flicks opens moments later and he rolls onto his side.

He's still not quite awake so he mostly just blinks muzzily at the - cat, yes, but it's very large and it seems to have too much tooth and Dug's mind is abruptly locked in a struggle between CHASE THE CAT and RUN AWAY FROM THE CAT.

Oh noes dilemma!

[ubertracker.livejournal.com]

Diego freezes.

His instincts say easily: RUN AWAY FROM DOG.

And then he reminds himself that he is bigger than the dog, therefore he could take the dog in an epic battle if it were necessary...but he isn't interested in an epic battle.

A stomach full of milk, all he wants to do is curl up in front of the fireplace with a ball of yawn and nap.




Eaaaaaaassssssssyyyyy does it....

[good_dug]

The cat is moving. It is moving. Every instinct is to chase it! It is practically demanding to be chased.

But...the teeth...

Dug gets to his feet but stays planted where he is, tail between his legs. The collar flashing red, he announces "I am not afraid of you, cat!"

[xamotomax.livejournal.com]

Tummy scratches.

And fillet mignon that you don't even have to beg for—they'll share it with you willingly.

Will that wake up Dug?

[good_dug]

Dug is so full to bursting that the filet mignon doesn't even register, although the tummy scratches most definitely do.

He doesn't exactly wake, just squirms into a slightly more comfortable position with the maximum possible amount of tummy showing.

[xamotomax.livejournal.com]

Okay. They can save it for later. When Dug digests most of his well-begotten meals he can have some.

Anyways...

Scratch scratch scratch...

[hallelujahpilot]

He's a dog.

An actual, living breathing dog.

Trudy - tough, nearly ten years in the Marines, Chief Warrant Officer Gertrude Chacon - is enraptured.

The only reason she doesn't rub his tummy is that she isn't sure if she should wake him or not.

[good_dug]

It's a pretty tempting tummy. See it there, all sprawled out and golden and furry?

(okay, so it's made slightly less tempting by the fact that massive consumption of meat means that the dog, it has to be said, is farting occasionally with great gusto, but still.

Puppy tummy! Very scritchable!)

[hallelujahpilot]

(she's used to working in a hangar - her sense of smell is permanently messed up)

It is a very tempting tummy. So much so that she quietly goes to kneel beside him, and gentle tickle her fingers across his torso.

[nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com]

Magic is a very polite dog. Her pack leaders make sure of it.

So she sniffs inquisitively, and waits for the stranger to wake up.

[good_dug]

In his dream, Dug is chasing the bird and catching up. For once, he knows, he's going to get! He's going to capture it! And then...and then there's another dog?

Sniffsniffsniff.

One eye cracks open, and regards Magic curiously. She doesn't smell like any of the dogs he knows, which means it's definitely introductions time. Only problem is that he's far too comfortable to move.

So he settles for a cheerfully wagging tail. "Hi there!"

[nitro-is-ace.livejournal.com]

Magic wags her tail too, being a friendly sort of dog and decidedly not dominant.

And... um. Doesn't talk. Because she's a dog? And two of her pack leaders speak dog anyway? ... And no one got her a really cool collar.

[mogget_cat]

There is a DOG. In Yrael's SPOT. Soaking up warmth from YRAEL's fireplace.

This cannot be allowed. He Will. Not. Stand for it.

On his perch on one of the high-backed chairs near the fireplace, the not'cat crouches, tenses, and springs!

He arcs through the air, fully intending to pounce upon the food-coma canine's stomach, waking him up to teach him not to assume the spot in front of the fireplace, just because it's empty, isn't already spoken for. He expects the dog to be suitably cowed.

What he doesn't expect is the dog's fuzzy, taut belly to ricochet the pouncing cat up and away, yowling, into the rafters.

[good_dug]

Dug was in the middle of an excellent dream involving several of the other dogs being turned into squirrels. In the real world, his paws move, thrashing as he runs in his sleep, nothing capable of waking him short of...

BOING

...yeah, that. Dug's vertical in about point-three second, whirling in a circle as he looks frantically for whatever thing just PUNCHED him in the STOMACH and left him SMELLING OF CAT.

[mogget_cat]

SERVES HIM RIGHT. That's what a dog gets for taking Yrael's spot.





Yrael will be up there in the rafters, sulking.

[janebecomes]

At first Jane thought Dug was an ottoman before she saw his paws and now she's trying not to laugh loud enough to wake the sweet thing.

[good_dug]

He can probably be used as an ottoman, to be honest.

It might not help her laughter that he's snoring uproariously at the moment, in the perfect position for massive snuffly snorts as his feet bat at the air.

[janebecomes]

She ends up just laughing as she leans down to pat his impressive tummy,

"Aren't you sweet and well fed."

[lil-green-apple.livejournal.com]

A slightly petrified nymph is eying him the manner one might eye, say, a giant spider or a Cerberus in his natural form.

That is, not quite able to remember her wits and that she could walk past him. (He is blocking the fire, though, and a nymph in winter is a sad thing, indeed.)

[good_dug]

Of course, Dug is fast asleep, and unable to notice any of this. It's entirely possible that, in his dreams, he stretches a little farther, now blocking the route even more.

His paws twitch, and he growls softly in his sleep, stalking and hunting and, of course, always catching a variety of prey.

[lil-green-apple.livejournal.com]

That is not even more frightening at all. If he is so very fierce in his sleep, will he not be fiercer in waking?

Perhaps she should find a blanket instead. Unfortunately, in so considering she is accidentally bumped into by another patron, and the result is a clattering surely capable of rousing such a fierce golden retriever from his slumber.

[shortofcrazy]

Riley comes to a screeching halt as he swings around the back of an armchair. Only some nimble dancing (aka undignified flailing, laptop juggling, and quick-step sneaker scrambling) keeps him from tripping over the sprawled dog that brought him up short, and even then, he nearly drops his laptop on it.

He throws up his free hand in an utterly useless show of disapproval and frustration, and then he eyeballs the dog for a moment (golden retrievers aren't generally attack dogs, right? right???) and veee-eeery carefully starts to step over it.

[good_dug]

Not carefully enough, Riley! And, well, it probably would have helped if you hadn't made all that noise when you almost stepped on him. Because, as it is, Dug twitches and starts peddling rapidly with his paws, growling under his breath as he frantically chases something in his dreams.

He also shifts just enough that Riley isn't going to have too much room to step over him, at least not if he doesn't want to burn his feet. The only option is back, Mister Poole...

[shortofcrazy]

"ACK--"

Riley's foot got clipped by a peddling paw, causing him to very nearly again trip and fall.

He takes a step back. Glares at the sleeping dog.

He walks around the back of the chair that he wants, puts the laptop on the table beside it, and then clambers over the back of the chair. It isn't easy going; there's a split second where it looks like the chair might tip with him -- but it holds, and Riley rolls right into the seat.

He leans over and picks up his computer, and settles it in his lap.

He pulls a smug face at the sleeping dog. "Take that," he says, in what is probably the most pointless thing he has said all day. "Space hog."