I am at a pet store with my Grandfather on my dad’s side. He has a big brown puppy with him in a big brown bag, wearing a muzzle with a bolt in the front, sticking into the puppy’s mouth, preventing it from ever closing fully. I unscrew the bolt, freeing the large weimaraner hound pup and am rewarded with tons of sloppy puppy kisses. The mask dissolves away and I notice that the puppy has dazzling blue eyes. In my hand lies the bolt, but the puppy turns from me, running to my little brother Ross, who the dog loves completely.