go hide in your haystacks!

Like you hit your word count for the first time in a week and its like

Eridian Doctor: We went through the human genome and found a bunch of places with old broken DNA repair mechanisms so we came up with a gene editing therapy that fixes them in order to extend your lifespan.

Grace: *flashbacks to when Rocky found out that humans can experience long term effects from lower doses of radiation exposure and Grace wasn't being as careful as he should have been back when they first met because he still thought this was gonna be a suicide mission*

Grace (internally): Oh, so cancer prevention! Got it!

Grace: Sounds good!

*like 100 years later*

Grace: Hey Rocky, how am I not dead yet?

Grace internally: Oh right, low gravity can cause bone degradation. Makes sense that after so long in space it'd be good

Grace: sounds good to me!

One modification to the LPR5 gene later

Grace falls off a cliff

Grace: Hey why didn't I break any bones???

Rocky: ??? We made your bones strong statement

"oh ryland. only you would cry over a bunch of rocks."

STOP-

When I was a kid, between six and fifteen, one of our Pyrenees would escort me, off-leash, between my grandmother's house and mine. I'd just have to call him, and he'd show up and walk me there, placing himself between me and anything he considered threatening- Cranky farm animals, holes in the ground, bodies of water, etc.

That same dog found a (unfortunately deceased) lamb my grandfather had buried a few hours earlier, dug it up, realized it was cold and not breathing, and carefully carried it to our barn, where he covered it neck-deep in straw and tried to cuddle it warm again to bring it back to life.

One of our older dogs, at about sixteen years old (keep in mind, this breed tends to average out at about 12 years max) had arthritis in his hips, a bad back, and a respiratory issue, was fucking ancient and essentially palliative, but would still go stock-still out of nowhere, let out one subtle "boof", and then set out at an awkward-yet-speedy bunny-hop sprint at the slightest whiff of a cougar, bear, or wolf. Like, grampa would jump fences. Gentle geriatric giant would kick up to 7k to protect the family, never mind the three other, much younger fogs already on the case.

When I was a baby, like a literal in-diapers infant, he would lay on the ground and let me dress him up as a wizard and crawl all over him with zero complaint.

His nephew was 100lbs and often alarmed visitors who mistook him for a bear, yet never so much as bumped into a person in his life and feared only string and kittens.