#nino

Max had been vibrating with excitement since sunrise.

You’d seen him excited before—race wins, new sim rig deliveries, the time Jimmy let him hold him for a full thirty‑four seconds—but this was different. This was soft excitement, the kind that made him hum under his breath while making coffee, the kind that made him check the clock every five minutes, the kind that made him kiss your cheek every time he walked past you like he couldn’t contain the joy in his chest.

“Max,” you said, leaning against the counter as he paced the kitchen for the fourth time, “we’re picking him up at eleven. It’s eight. You need to relax.”

“I am relaxed,” he insisted, even though he was literally wringing his hands like a Victorian widow.

You raised an eyebrow.

He sighed. “Okay, maybe a little excited.”

“A little.”

He grinned, boyish and bright. “It’s our puppy.”

And that was the thing—your puppy. The first pet you were getting together, not one he’d had before you moved in, not one you’d adopted in a moment of impulse. This one was chosen together. Planned together. Named together.

Nino.

A tiny dachshund with big paws, bigger ears, and the kind of face that made Max melt into a sentimental puddle.

The cats, however, had not been consulted.

Jimmy, Sassy, and Donut were currently perched on the back of the sofa like a feline tribunal, watching Max’s excitement with identical expressions of judgment.

Jimmy blinked slowly, unimpressed.

Sassy flicked her tail like she was preparing a formal complaint.

Donut yawned, showing all her teeth, as if to say I will eat this dog if necessary.

You patted Max’s chest. “They’ll love him.”

“They tolerate me,” he muttered.

“They adore you.”

“They adore you,” he corrected. “I’m just the guy who fills their bowls.”

You kissed him, soft and quick. “You’re their favourite human pillow.”

He brightened. “That’s true.”

---

Picking Up Nino

The breeder handed over a tiny, warm, wriggling bundle of brown fur, and Max’s entire face transformed.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, like he’d just been handed the Holy Grail. “He’s so small.”

Nino looked up at him with big, trusting eyes and immediately licked his chin.

Max made a sound you’d never heard from him before—somewhere between a gasp and a squeak.

You laughed. “You’re gone.”

“I would die for him,” Max said solemnly.

It had been five seconds.

---

The Car Ride Home

Nino slept in Max’s lap the entire drive, curled into a perfect little croissant. Max didn’t move a muscle, terrified of waking him.

“Baby,” you said gently, “you can breathe.”

“I don’t want to disturb him.”

“He’s a puppy, not a bomb.”

Max glared at you. “He’s perfect.”

You reached over and squeezed his thigh. “He really is.”

---

The Introduction

The cats were waiting.

Jimmy sat in the middle of the living room like a mafia boss.

Sassy perched on the cat tree, tail flicking with disdain.

Donut sprawled on the rug, pretending she didn’t care but absolutely caring.

Max knelt on the floor, holding Nino like an offering. “Be nice,” he whispered to the cats. “He’s a baby.”

Nino sniffed the air, ears perked, tail wagging like a metronome on steroids.

Jimmy approached first, slow and deliberate. He sniffed Nino’s head.

Nino sneezed.

Jimmy recoiled, offended.

Max gasped. “Jimmy, he didn’t mean it!”

You put a hand on his shoulder. “Let them figure it out.”

Sassy descended next, graceful and dramatic. She circled Nino like she was inspecting a suspicious package. Nino rolled onto his back, tiny paws in the air.

Sassy paused.

Then—shockingly—she booped his nose.

Max clutched your arm. “Did you see that? She likes him!”

“She tolerates him,” you corrected.

“That’s basically love from her.”

Donut finally waddled over, sniffed Nino once, then flopped down beside him like she’d decided he was acceptable.

Nino immediately curled against her warm side.

You blinked. “Well. That was easy.”

Max looked personally betrayed. “Donut took three months to sit next to me.”

“She knows he’s a baby.”

“I’m a baby,” Max muttered.

You kissed his cheek. “My big baby.”

---

Settling In

Within an hour, Nino had:

• stolen one of Jimmy’s toys

• fallen off the sofa (gently, onto a pillow Max had placed “just in case”)

• barked at his own reflection

• and followed Max everywhere like a shadow

Max carried him around the house narrating everything like Nino was a guest on a guided tour.

“And this is the sim room. You’re not allowed in here unless you’re wearing headphones. Safety first.”

You laughed from the doorway. “He’s a dog, Max.”

“He has sensitive ears.”

“He also just tried to eat a dust bunny.”

Max gasped. “Nino, no! That’s not food!”

Nino wagged his tail proudly.

---

Nighttime Chaos

You’d agreed—agreed—that Nino would sleep in his crate the first night.

Max lasted twenty minutes.

“He’s crying,” he whispered, already halfway out of bed.

“He’s settling,” you said.

“He’s sad.”

“He’s a puppy.”

“He needs me.”

You sighed. “Max—”

Too late. He scooped Nino out of the crate and climbed back into bed, placing the puppy on his chest.

Nino immediately fell asleep.

Max looked smug. “See? He needed me.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You love me.”

“Unfortunately.”

He kissed your forehead. “We’re a family now.”

You looked at the sleeping puppy, the cats curled at the foot of the bed, and Max’s soft, sleepy smile.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “We really are.”

---

The Morning After

You woke to chaos.

Nino was zooming across the bed.

Jimmy was chasing him.

Sassy was yelling.

Donut was asleep on Max’s head.

Max blinked awake, hair a mess, eyes soft. “Good morning.”

“This is your fault,” you said.

He grinned. “Best decision we ever made.”

And honestly?