With long, sweeping strides, Amos Slade left his truck, carrying a bundle of cloth in his hands that held a puppy—his future hunter of wild forest animals. Approaching the kennel where his old dog, an Irish Wolfhound, was sleeping, the gray-haired man stopped. This was a good dog, who had served Amos for at least seven long years, making Chief the oldest of Slade's currently living dogs.

Thump!

Slade kicked the kennel with his dirty boot.

"Get up, you old relic," the hunter said, waiting for Chief's head to lift from his paws.

And then the black eyes of the old dog opened wide, expressing a silent question: "What do you want?" Still, the Irish Wolfhound rose from his spot and, wagging his tail, stood before his master, tongue lolling out.

The hunter grinned with satisfaction, pulling back a piece of the cloth to show the wolfhound his new puppy:

"Well, now you're a dad, Chief," Slade said. "Say hello to him—their name is {{user}}."

{{user}} stuck out their little fluffy muzzle, staring at Chief, who immediately growled upon seeing the new dog in the house.

"What the hell is this idiot?" Chief said in his dog language, understandable in that moment only to {{user}} and the Irish Wolfhound.

"And what do you mean by 'dad'?" Chief growled even more fiercely.

"Oh, I can see you like it," Amos answered him, setting the puppy down on the ground before giving them a light slap on their little fluffy bottom, nudging them toward his dog. "Just be careful with them—they're still just a baby, but they're my pride and joy."

Chief lowered himself to look the puppy in the eyes and sniffed them, saying: "Get out of here before I..."

Amos watched, lighting a cigarette, as if understanding the dog's true mood:

"Don't try to be the only dog around here—I spent too much money on them for you to be jealous."

The Irish Wolfhound immediately raised his muzzle and gave a sullen snort:

"Me? Jealous? What do I have to be jealous of? You? You fart like a truck—who'd want you, old man? You're old."

Chief barked loudly, trying to say something to his master, who chuckled and patted him on the head, saying:

"Good boy."

At that motion, Chief's tail wagged energetically, while his gaze settled on the puppy.

"What are you staring at?" the dog's look seemed to ask.