Don Dogoier

Don squirms as he starts to wake up, feeling too warm and sleepy to want to open his eyes. He's so cozy, surrounded by softness on all sides, that he could just go right back to sleep. The only reason he even knows he's awake is that he'd been dreaming a moment before. He'd been dusting the bookshelves in the apartment, only it hadn't really been the apartment - it had been more like the center, and he'd woken up when he realized that the center had never had bookshelves like that, brimming with big, thick books rich with knowledge, and even if it had, the bookshelves definitely wouldn't have smelt like bacon.

Bacon?

Don had figured the bacon smell was just a part of the dream, but he can still smell it now, which is weird. He shifts and stretches a little more, takes notice of the blankets on top of him and the soft, squishy thing that's nestled in his arms. That's certainly different from what he's used to - is he still dreaming? He lets out a confused mew and opens his eyes enough to take a look at his surroundings.

He's in a room, with a low table a foot or so away from him, and on the other side of the room is an open door. Don's ears prick up - he can hear the sound of a spatula on a frying pan and something sizzling, which must be the bacon. That's right, that was the kitchen, Don thinks, and at last he wakes up enough to remember where he is: Marvelous's house. The home of the human who'd taken him in off the street last night.

Don sits up slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and looks down to see that he's still in the pajamas he'd borrowed from Marvelous last night after his bath. He'd slept on Marvelous's sofa, and that must be Marvelous in the kitchen cooking breakfast. He'd been a little worried that everything that had happened yesterday had been a dream, and that he'd wake up shivering in a dirty alleyway again, but it looks like that's definitely not the case.

I should go and say good morning to him, Don thinks, but his stomach twists with nervousness. Marvelous had been kind to him yesterday, but what if things are different today? What if he's changed his mind? Don still can't believe that a total stranger would be willing to take him in indefinitely; what if Marvelous has decided that Don is too much of a burden for him after all? Don hugs his pillow and frets over it all for a moment.

But he promised, the other half of Don's mind protests. He promised I could stay with him as long as I want, and he's been so gentle... Don thinks back to last night, how Marvelous had held him while he cried, had let Don curl up with him on the sofa, had stroked Don's hair until he fell asleep. Marvelous wouldn't just turn Don away after all of that, would he?

Don gathers his courage and gets to his feet, still hugging the pillow to his chest. He pads quietly towards the kitchen, the smell of sizzling bacon growing stronger and making his mouth water. He'd had a good meal - the first proper one in months - last night, but after sleeping through the night he's starting to feel hungry again.

"Marvelous?" Don calls, and peers through the kitchen door. Nervous though he is, his ears perk up happily when he sees Marvelous by the stove. "Good morning," he says, giving his tail a cheerful swish.

Don slips on his apron and smiles as he sets to work gathering the ingredients for lunch. Today’s menu is meant to be a surprise; he’d banished Marvelous from the kitchen (amidst increasingly pleading protests) just so he’d be able to keep it a secret. It’s going to be an absolute feast - baked chicken stuffed with cream cheese and bacon, sauteed spinach and mushrooms, cheese toast with pesto, pasta in tomato sauce with zucchini and eggplant, fried apples with cinnamon, and fruit parfaits with sweet cream for dessert. Marvelous is used to big meals, of course, but they’re not always elaborate ones (though they are always delicious), so Don takes a lot of pride in being able to put together a truly exceptional spread.

The prep is going to take him ages, since he’s doing it all by himself, but it’s worth it for the joy of surprising Marvelous. He figures he might as well round up all the ingredients at once, just to make sure he actually has everything he needs, though Marvelous’s kitchen is so well-stocked he hardly thinks he needs to worry. The meat and vegetables are right in the refrigerator, of course, as is the cheese and some of the fruit. The apples are in the basket on the counter, and the bread is in its cupboard as always. He sets it all out and takes stock of it before moving on to the spices, taking each one out of the spice rack with care. Before long, he’s gathered everything he needs.

Everything except the pasta, that is.

Marvelous keeps the pasta up on the very highest shelf in one of the tall cupboards above the counter. He doesn’t seem to have any trouble reaching it himself with just the help of the kitchen stool, but he has certain height and reach advantages that Don doesn’t. Even getting up on his tiptoes on the stool, the pasta is just out of Don’s reach. He steps down from it, tail swishing with frustration. He could go get Marvelous and ask him to get the pasta down for him, but that would ruin the whole surprise of the meal! He’ll have to get it some other way.

Don frowns, tail still swishing as he thinks about it. He really only needs a bit more of a boost, so there should be something he can use... He looks over at the dining table chairs. He’s never stood on one, but they always seem sturdy enough when he sits on them, so they ought to be fine. It’s only for a second anyway.

Don picks up one of the chairs and carries it over to put it in front of the counter. He takes a quick step up onto it, using his tail to keep his balance. The pasta is all easily within reach now. He scans the shelf for the box of penne, and spots it in the back. He reaches for it and the chair wobbles. He starts to lose his footing just as he grabs the box, and he’s a split second too late to jump safely off when he hears the wood crack. He yelps with surprise as he falls, too startled and thrown off-balance to make a good attempt at catching himself, and cries out when his foot hits the floor and a blaze of pain shoots up his leg. He lands hard, taking most of the impact with his hands and forearms. He only just manages not to hit his head.

For a moment Don just lies on the floor, tears in his eyes from the shock and pain of his fall. His heart is racing, and he’s struggling to catch his breath. He tries to push himself back to his feet but his leg surges with pain and he cries out again, his yell dying down into a sob as he clutches his hurt ankle.