Rusty was nothing to mess with, to say the very least. He'd been locked up a time or two as he drifted from town to town in his younger years, leaving in his wake a forgotten troupe of little Rustys.
Patricia was across the house and all he could think was "How could she be away for even a minute?" At the thought, he felt an even stronger connection to the girl, since he had accepted some time ago that he was the odd-man out in Patricia's heart, with not so much as a back scratch in weeks. But now he felt a new purpose and for the first time since God-only-knows-when, he felt his tail dancing behind him and his floppy tongue tingling for a kiss.