It all began with too many puppies.
Specifically: one dog, eight puppies, and a duck who thought he was the ninth.
They showed up outside the café during breakfast. Shivering, muddy, adorable. Kuro hissed once and then proceeded to ignore them completely while stealing my toast.
I gave them blankets, food, love—and then realized I couldn't keep them all. Not unless I opened a second café called Bark & Biscuits.
So, I made a poster:
- "Pet Adoption Day!"
Come meet your new furry (or feathery) friend! All love, no cost!
Simple. Innocent. Wholesome.
I set up a cozy corner with baskets, name tags like "Cabbage" and "Sir Fluffworth," and little scrolls describing each animal's likes and dislikes.
It should have been normal.
It wasn't.
The first person to arrive was the village herbalist, holding a staff and wearing ceremonial robes.
"I have come," she said solemnly, "to receive the beast that fate has chosen for me."
"What? No. You just pick one you like."
"Or… one that likes me?"
A puppy licked her shoe.
She gasped. "The Bond has begun."
Oh no.
A small crowd gathered. A few more licks and tail wags later, people were talking about "divine selection" and "soul-bond resonance." One man kneeled as a duck sat on his shoulder and declared, "We are one now."
Someone cast sparkles when they picked up a kitten. I still don't know who.
By noon, my little adoption event had turned into:
-The First Sacred Beast Choosing Ceremony
There was a stage.
There were flowers.
There was an actual chant:
- "Heart to fur, soul to paw, let friendship bloom by ancient law!"
I didn't teach them that. Someone made it up.
A bard wrote a song about "Sir Fluffworth the Courageous." A tailor offered matching cloaks for owners and pets. Lila wore one. So did her goat.
Marius knelt before a tiny hedgehog with deep reverence and said, "I pledge my sword and my dreams to you, O spiky one."
The hedgehog sneezed. Marius wept.
Meanwhile, a child wandered into the shrubbery and came back hugging a bush.
"I choose this one!" she announced proudly.
"That's… a plant."
"He whispered to me."
I said nothing. The bush did smell unusually minty.
Soon, people were forming Beast Bonds, Fur Vows, and Feather Compacts.
They carved symbols into collar tags, swore loyalty under moonlight, and gave pets elaborate titles like:
Mistress Barkshine of the North Path
Commander Peepington, Second of His Name
The Chosen Sneezer of Hedge Vale
One guy tried to sign a magical contract in jam. The duck pecked it. I guess that counts.
I just stood there holding a clipboard, wondering how I got here. Again.
But the animals were happy. The villagers were happy. Even the bush girl braided its leaves into a crown.
So I let it happen.
Now, every spring, we host the Sacred Bonding Festival. People bring snacks, summon glitter (don't ask), and welcome their "fated companions."
I'm not just the Nap Sage or the Unum Judge anymore.
I'm now:
Keeper of Creatures
Herald of Bonds
The Paw-Match Priestess of the Gentle Grove
I also still have one puppy left.
He keeps chewing my slippers and stealing carrots.
His name is Chaos.