Less than a pound of Shih Tzu fluff when we brought him home—basically a dust bunny with ambition. Big eyes, tiny bark, and absolutely zero understanding of personal space. He wobbled right up to Wick one day, tail wagging like he was trying to take flight. 

Wick’s response? Classic. One slow blink. No hiss. Just the silent judgment of a cat betrayed by the universe. 

Their truce has been evolving ever since. 

Wick still rules from my chair like it’s his throne. Quigley still thinks they’re best friends. Wick occasionally steals his blanket, just to remind him who’s boss. And every so often, if the stars align and the heater’s on, they’ll nap almost—almost touching. 

It’s not precisely a bromance. But it’s a vibe. 

And around here, that’s close enough to love.