Witch Weekly had told Barnabas to be more approachable. Not directly, of course. Directly, someone at the magazine was out for him. Between actually cursing him into being a dog for 24 hours for an April Fool's joke and then naming him the 5th most bachelor women should stay away from, he had nearly cancelled his lifetime subscription to the damned thing. Yet, when he'd read his horoscope a few weeks ago, they'd tossed him a figurative bone --- his problems in life were due to his being unapproachable. He would be wise to get a companion, particularly a dog. Ever since his curse, he'd decided he didn't hate the creatures as much as he once had. So, after several weeks of ruminating and researching, he decided to bite the bullet and get one.

Luckily, his curse had also confirmed that Amelia Evans no longer frequented the BBB and he was safe to enter without worrying about seeing her. An employee that he was unfamiliar with guided him to the section where they kept the dogs. Puppies only, it seemed, as nobody wanted to purchase an adult. Except for Barnabas. It seemed he was out of luck. He stared into the pen that was a wriggling, furry, chubby mass of puppies.

"Which one is the least likely to piddle on my floor?" He asked and looked toward the employee, only to realize belatedly that they had left and someone else had approached without his notice.