#*wagging tail*

Mojo's head tilted interrogatively, not sure to understand what the unknown biped wanted from him. Gladly, this biped wasn't a stinky and violent one. It was a biped like his friends! The dog had learned that sometimes, they needed to talk. And even if he couldn't understand much, he could still listen. Most of the time, it was enough for them to feel better.

The tall-blonde-biped-with-gentle-eyes had come again! Mojo had flared his honey-like and flowery scent before actually seeing him. What a strange thing, than how easily his friends could appear without a sound, when the mean and pink bipeds were always so noisy... well, it wasn't to displease the dog! He could rest peacefully without fears, at least!

Mojo has been smelling the juicy treat from a distance, following the blonde-furred-biped around with a furiously wagging tail. He was drooling already, as he sat at his friend’s paws, containing his impatience in a long begging whine. At last the treat came, but Mojo didn’t go for it yet. No. He had to behave. To be a good boy.

He waited, so. His tail still slamming the floor repeatedly, and he sneezed after a fresh as snow display of affection graced his muzzle. He didn’t get much what that gesture meant, but he had seen bipeds pressing their maws to others in the same fashion before. Perhaps was it their way to acquaint, to check on each other’s health status? Truly, Mojo had no clue. What he knew on the other side, was that he now was famished like a wolf and ready to devour the piece of meat.

Mojo had been enjoying his evening on the Château’s Garden, awaiting for his stony-like-friends to awake to find, perhaps, a paw ready to play with him. First, he searched for his best friend, the one with a long and white fur as golden flowers under the moonlight. But in vain. So, he diligently searched for the gentle-looking-biped, for he knew how much his friend needed to go out with him to chase away his melancholia. Once more in vain.

He dodged quite successfully unwanted strange-white-paws on his fur while suddenly spotting a delicious smell that made him drool in advance. Oh! That it knew what it was about! The dark-eyed-biped who so willingly offered him food he only succeeded to stole once to violent-bipeds’s food-places treated him again! What would it be this time? Oh! Beef… Was he allowed? He sneaked on the kitchen and then froze on spot, awaiting for his friend’s approval.