you can choose whichever era of paul you'd like, i just chose mcbeardy because i love him so much & thought he fit the best with this plot...also, it's not correct time-wise, but i hope we can make an exception<3
The scratching at the back door was something they both had grown accustomed to, neither one of them having the guts nor the energy to get up out of bed and go check what it was. 'It's probably just some rabid animal begging for food, just let it go on it's own' Paul would say, but it would only peak her interest more. She wanted nothing more than to see what it was, all out of nothing but curiosity and fear of it being a crazed fan (it happens more often than you're probably thinking).
It was two in the morning on a Thursday when she finally had had enough of the small nails against the door. She figured it would be a small cat, maybe an animal from around the block coming to ask for food. Then she remembered they lived further out, in the middle of absolute nowhere, somewhere in the northern hills of England.
"What're you doing, then?" Paul said as she threw the covers from her body. She suddenly felt cold as Paul's body heat seeped out of her into a pool on the floor, but she didn't have much motivation to climb back into bed after going through all the trouble in standing up.
"'m going to see what that bloody scratching is."
"Love, it's two in the morning come back to bed."
"Not until that fucking animal or whatever the hell it is, is gone."
She began to pace slowly down the hallway, careful of her steps in case she scared it away, and that was the last thing she wanted. She wanted to see it.
Making it into the kitchen, the scratches were becoming quieter as she approached. She found it odd as she peered through the glass at down to the front of the door, only to be met with the eyes of a small dog, not taller than her ankle. It was sitting on its hind legs, it's hair in its face and it's scrawny little body shaking with its wagging tail. She instantly felt bad for insulting it earlier to Paul, who she could hear was creeping down the hallway after her.
"Well?" he whispered, joining her side, looking down at the ground in front of the barrier between her and the small fur ball.
"Look at her!" she gasped, moving Paul out of the way to open the door a small crack and stick her fingers through. The dog stood up and waddled over to lick the pads of her fingertips, and she smiled at the contact. "It's so small,"
"Bring it inside, it ought to be freezing out there!" Paul hissed, walking over to turn on the kitchen light. She opened the door a bit more, and her arms snaked through to grab the small dog and carry it inside.
"Hello, sweet darling!" she kissed the dog's nose, and it happily licked her face back. It's salty tongue ran over her cheeks and over her eyelids. "Do you need some food? Paul grab something from the fridge. See? Macca's gonna bring you some food so you won't be hungry anymore..."
She couldn't help but wonder how long the puppy had been out there, and how she didn't notice it during the day. Where did it live? What did it eat? Is it someone else's dog?
"Has it a tag on it somewhere?" Paul asked, setting leftovers from last night's dinner in a bowl in front of the puppy. It scrambled from her hands and fell with it's legs spread on the counter before regaining balance and diving into the bowl of food. It began eating like it had never eaten before, and by the looks of it, it probably hadn't eaten in a long while.
"I don't see any tags."
"I'll call the shelter tomorrow then I suppose we could-"
"No!" He looked taken aback by her sudden outburst, and she covered her mouth as soon as the word left her mouth. "We can't get rid of her!" she hushed her voice down a few notches.
"We can't have a dog right now birdie, it'll tear everything up..."
"Then we'll train her!" she reassured as the puppy kept chomping away. "I'll do everything, I promise."
"You say that now," Paul sighed, running a hand through his hair. "What do we name it?"
She thought for a moment, but nothing appeared at the top of her head. She was usually good at names, but with the dog, she drew a complete blank.
"How about snow?" Paul turned to her. "She's got a bit of white in her..."
"Paula, Mary, Josie," she whispered, shaking her head. "I can't think of something."
"What about Martha?"
She looked into his eyes, the puppy looking to him as he said it and a smile dawned on his lips. "Do you like Martha, sweet girl? Hm?" He picked up the puppy and carried her into the bathroom to wash her up.
She didn't know what her heart was feeling at that very moment, she'd never felt it before. Paul was being, fatherly. To a dog. She couldn't help but imagine if the dog was a kid. A happy, smiley kid like their daddy, the same nose and same eyelashes that curled to heaven.
She was gonna tell him. She wasn't even too sure if she was for sure pregnant. But she'd let him know, sooner or later .
