Snobbish, the rumours went. Spoiled. Puffed up on their own importance.
Joe's pretty certain already that those stories were nonsense. If not in the case of all of them, well, certainly right here and right now. He's no purebred himself, and yet Don hasn't hesitated to interact with him - even in a frightened state where no-one would blame him for acting out without thinking. It is, honestly, a situation Joe had never thought about getting into. Purebreds usually have rich owners and their own veterinarian; they don't need to visit the clinic. Perhaps it might happen one day - Joe hasn't been there long enough to have seen it all quite yet. And if they don't want to interact with someone like him, well, Sid will still be there to do everything he can for them.
One thing that definitely, definitely is the same for purebred and mixed alike is that need for contact; it's instinctive, totally obvious. Joe can feel the overwhelmingly positive response to his touch, even though Don is fairly tentative about it. Which is understandable considering the circumstances. He's still in pain, uncertain of the exact injury he's sustained, and nervous about humans. Joe can understand that wholeheartedly, but he's not really sure that just saying so would be believable.
"I'm Joe," he says instead in response to Don's simple question. A smile ghosts at his lips as he feels the soft fur of Don's tail running down his arm and he scoots a little bit closer on the sofa, so he can look Don in the eyes as he speaks. "And you're Don? I work with the doctor who has come to visit you."
Best to bring that up right now because the situation isn't going to change. But Don needs to know that he'll be safe.
"I'm always there when he treats catpeople," Joe continues, "because he wants them to feel reassured. He won't touch you if you don't want him to. But he'll be able to help you better if you think you could try."
Joe never had an injury himself that Sid had offered to treat, but the things he says now are not entirely unlike some of the things Sid used to say to him when he was on the street and unwilling to give anyone a chance.
Don's fingers playing idly with his tail is a good sign; he's curious and that's very promising. Joe wonders if he can build on this. He says, "Is there anything you want to ask me before the doctor comes in?"
Or tell me, he thinks to himself with seriousness, but he won't push in that direction yet. Don might decide to open up to him himself if he feels comfortable anyway. Joe never figured himself as a confidante, but this job falls out that way sometimes. And he is somewhat of a good listener.
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Joe's pretty certain already that those stories were nonsense. If not in the case of all of them, well, certainly right here and right now. He's no purebred himself, and yet Don hasn't hesitated to interact with him - even in a frightened state where no-one would blame him for acting out without thinking. It is, honestly, a situation Joe had never thought about getting into. Purebreds usually have rich owners and their own veterinarian; they don't need to visit the clinic. Perhaps it might happen one day - Joe hasn't been there long enough to have seen it all quite yet. And if they don't want to interact with someone like him, well, Sid will still be there to do everything he can for them.
One thing that definitely, definitely is the same for purebred and mixed alike is that need for contact; it's instinctive, totally obvious. Joe can feel the overwhelmingly positive response to his touch, even though Don is fairly tentative about it. Which is understandable considering the circumstances. He's still in pain, uncertain of the exact injury he's sustained, and nervous about humans. Joe can understand that wholeheartedly, but he's not really sure that just saying so would be believable.
"I'm Joe," he says instead in response to Don's simple question. A smile ghosts at his lips as he feels the soft fur of Don's tail running down his arm and he scoots a little bit closer on the sofa, so he can look Don in the eyes as he speaks. "And you're Don? I work with the doctor who has come to visit you."
Best to bring that up right now because the situation isn't going to change. But Don needs to know that he'll be safe.
"I'm always there when he treats catpeople," Joe continues, "because he wants them to feel reassured. He won't touch you if you don't want him to. But he'll be able to help you better if you think you could try."
Joe never had an injury himself that Sid had offered to treat, but the things he says now are not entirely unlike some of the things Sid used to say to him when he was on the street and unwilling to give anyone a chance.
Don's fingers playing idly with his tail is a good sign; he's curious and that's very promising. Joe wonders if he can build on this. He says, "Is there anything you want to ask me before the doctor comes in?"
Or tell me, he thinks to himself with seriousness, but he won't push in that direction yet. Don might decide to open up to him himself if he feels comfortable anyway. Joe never figured himself as a confidante, but this job falls out that way sometimes. And he is somewhat of a good listener.