"Wow, I like that story," Cassie said. "What happens next? Bonnie wants to know as well."

Cassie patted Bonnie's head affectionately. Bonnie was an elderly female shepherd dog, who was at the present lounging on the floor and wagging her tail pleasantly.

A boy sitting cross-legged beside Cassie smiled toothily at the dog. A storybook on his lap, he continued determinedly:

"Peter planted the big sunflower seed ... in his family's little garden ... "

Children from the local autism centre had come to read stories to the dogs and cats at the shelter. Long-time volunteers, which included Cassie, were called in to assist with the extra tasks required for the day.

Michael would like to be here, Cassie couldn't help thinking. Her face lit up with a small smile. It'd be nice to see him.

Cassie sighed at herself for having thought so.

Please, no. No, stop thinking about him ...

Volunteering, putting her energy into worthwhile work, helped Cassie focus. There was no time for such frilly things. Solitary living had suited her so well. Why dream of dragging another person into her life?

She pushed aside those fragile feelings.

Animals and photography. Photography and animals. Nothing else.

* * *

A faint whining sound caught Michael's attention. He stopped and listened.

Michael was taking a rare stroll in the city. There were two casually uniformed bodyguards at his side, and he had worn disguises to make himself less recognisable. The trapped layer of heat between his neck and the scarf was killing him, but that wasn't important now: the whining continued periodically.

"Probably a stray, Alex," commented the bodyguard, using code names.

"It sounds in pain. We got to help it," Michael said immediately, and he went to search for the source of the whining.

He turned into the nearest back alley and the whining grew louder. Michael approached with caution.

Behind a rubbish bin was a ball of matted fur. A pair of shining, chocolate-coloured eyes stared out from it. Another frightened whine.

"Shh ... it's okay," Michael said softly, kneeling down.

"Mr Jackson –" said the bodyguard, abandoning the use of code names in his haste. "It's dirty – there could be –"

Michael had already reached out his hand to pet the puppy's head. The dog cringed at the touch of a human hand, but became accustomed quickly. The puppy stuck out his little tongue and licked Michael's palm, its innocent eyes watching curiously, wondering

Michael lifted the puppy up from the ground, which was damp from water dribbling out from an opened pipe. The puppy struggled weakly and gave a small yelp. To Michael's horror, he saw a nasty wound on the puppy's left paw. The raw, watery wound emitted a rot-like stench and maggots were already infesting it.

His heart pained. He could feel the nasty creatures crawling restlessly, eating into the flesh on the back of his very own hand. He couldn't reach out to every living being in need, but those which he did, he had to help them ... He had to.

"Riley," Michael turned to the bodyguard. "Can you help me get one of those ... I think they're called pet carriers. Make sure it's big enough for this little guy. And some dog food."

Michael took out his wallet and gave Riley the bodyguard several hundred-dollar notes. The latter nodded and, without a word, left for the nearest pet shop. To Riley, this instruction was relatively simple compared to buying boxes of pizzas and armful of blankets for groups of camping fans.

* * *

"I'd need your temporary assistance, please."

The vet – a petite but calm, steady woman – stated in a straightforward tone. Marinell Fortire was both the main person-in-charge and the veterinarian of the shelter. Her calm composure was near indifference, having seen and handled the many cases which came her way.

"Oh, okay," Michael said. The humble shelter clinic wasn't exactly bustling with ready people, and there seemed to be no other alternatives given the woman's no-nonsense manner.

"Hold him steady," Marinell instructed in her quiet voice when it came to working on the wound.

"It's alright. Brave boy there, it's alright –" Michael repeated soothingly. The puppy grunted loudly and squealed in discomfort as the maggots were picked out, one by one, with a pair of medical tweezers.

Finally, the procedure ended with the cleaned wound covered with cotton gauze and bandaged. The puppy was placed back into the pet carrier.

"May I have your name, sir?"

Marinell had taken out a clipboard. She clicked her pen.

"Er –" Michael hesitated.

"It's a standard procedure." The point of Marinell's pen hovered millimetres above the paper.

"Well ..."

Michael took off the layers of disguises, which included the thick scarf and a very bushy beard. Marinell's raised eyebrows. showed her surprise.

"You're that singer ..." she said. "My son has a poster of you in his room."

Michael smiled. "Oh, that's such an honour."

"Can I have an autograph for my son? I don't get to see him as often as I'd like to ... but he'd be so happy when he sees it." Marinell gave the faintest of smiles – a rare emotion on her otherwise impassive face.

"Of course," Michael said, instantly signing his name on the clipboard she gave him. Marinell took the clipboard appreciatively, and placed it carefully back under the desk.

"Shall I show you around, Mr Jackson?" Marinell asked, her tone much warmer and approachable.

"That would be nice. Thank you."

Marinell opened the door out to the hallway.

"When did you start this rescue?" Michael asked in interest.

"1991," Marinell said. "But I only bought this place in 1995. It took some time to raise funds, but it was worth it."

"Does your shelter currently need anything in particular?" Michael asked.

Marinell counted the numerous items in her mental list. "The leaking pipes have to be fixed up. A larger washing machine – so we can throw in all the towels at one go instead of splitting them up into several batches ... Medicine needs to be stocked up ... Food is the main priority ..."

"How much would it all cost?"

"Excluding the food, it's three thousand in total."

Marinell turned around for Michael had stopped walking. She watched him with an almost peculiar, uncomprehending expression as he took out his cheque book and signed a five-thousand-dollar cheque.

"Thank you," she said, receiving the cheque in both hands.

"It's the least I can do," he said gently.

Though indistinct, a small smile formed on Marinell's face as she guided Michael to the rooms near the end of the shelter.

"These are the rooms for our permanent residents: those who aren't put up for adoption due to old age or certain chronic illnesses and those ... who just aren't adopted," Marinell's voice trailed away. Animals with black fur or disabilities were less likeable to the general public.

"We have children visiting today from the local autism centre," Marinell continued. "Those are staff from the centre and our volunteers."

Michael took a quick peek through each of the small door panes. A smile spread across his face. Children and animals and their pure innocence. He could see the hurt and exhaustion behind some of the animals' eyes, but there was still that spark of playfulness not forgotten. Humans can learn much from animals ...

Michael was about to back away when, with a jolt of surprise, he spotted an indistinct swish of familiar chestnut-coloured hair in a corner. It was Cassie, who was tying her hair up in a ponytail. A shepherd dog placed the hair tie on her lap.

"Oh, thank you!" he could see her mouth to the dog.

"This is Queen, the queen of ourkingdom. I adopted her from a shelter I volunteer for. She's what we'd call, a 'foster failure' ..."

This must be the shelter Cassie mentioned, Michael thought.

Cassie was now guiding the hands of a boy and girl onto the fur of the beautiful shepherd dog, who had rolled over comfortably. All the while Cassie smiled and nodded encouragingly.

He couldn't help feeling a rush of affection for her.

* * *

Marinell led Michael into a small office, where he sat down on a chair, wanting to make sure the puppy was fine before leaving.

A little while later came the shuffling of footsteps outside the office. With a turn of the door knob, the volunteers crowded into the office and broke into casual chatter – which instantly faltered upon realising Michael's presence.

With all the disguises removed, there was no use pretending. Michael stood up and smiled at them. He spotted Cassie, pleasantly surprised, standing on the far left.

It was quite a while before the door finally swung back shut on its hinges with a soft wooden thud. (One young man had to be dragged out by his friend; he happened to be particularly fanatic.) Michael crossed the room towards Cassie.

Her hands moved to her hips. Raising an amused eyebrow, she said, "Fancy seeing you here."

There was the unlocking click of a side door. The two of them turned.

Marinell brought the pet carrier into the office. Between the metal bars of the door Michael could see that the puppy's matted fur had been trimmed away and his nails clipped short. The puppy looked dishevelled and in a somewhat messy state, what with the bandage and the uneven fur coat, but he definitely had the appearance of one who had been properly groomed over.

"Are you available to foster the dog, Cassandra?" Marinell asked. She had reverted back to her quiet voice.

"When did this guy came?" Cassie asked, stooping to look into the pet carrier.

Marinell glanced towards Michael. The latter gave a short explanation

"Well, I do have space, and I can house him in an exercise pen ..." Cassie said.

"What if – what if I keep him?" Michael asked suddenly. "I've taken care of many animals. I can take care of a dog. It'll be permanent. It's not on impulse."

* * *

"Help us think of a name!" said Prince.

"Pleaseee ..." whined Paris.

"Alright," Cassie giggled. "How about Cookie?" she said, noting the puppy's overall brown fur.

Paris shook her head. "He'll be scared when we say we want to eat cookies."

"Ohh," said Cassie. "Hmm ..."

The puppy had came home with Michael. The moment Prince and Paris saw him, they squealed and immediately began to ask questions. Michael understood their excitement, but it was necessary to hush them down. He explained that the puppy was still new to their home and all this human chatter was noisy to him. Michael then demonstrated the art of silence by doing a comical, sneaky tip-toe.

Prince and Paris giggled and nodded obediently. They proceeded to sit quietly nearby, watching and observing in interest and waving occasionally at the puppy as Cassie helped Michael to settle it down.

The puppy had a room all to himself – but Michael promised the children that he could move in with them once his paw had completely recovered. Now, fed a hearty meal and much relieved of the pain in his front limb, the puppy curled up on the newly bought pet bed, preparing to take a nap after a very long day.

Michael, who was crouching beside the miniature bed and stroking the dog's fur, whispered a name suggestion: "How about Jigglypuff?"

Cassie frowned. "Where did you get that from?"

"Wigglytuff?"

Even Prince and Paris were looking at him with a baffled expression.

"They're random syllables I thought of, " Michael laughed. "So, let's call this little guy ...?"

"Robin Hood!" piped Prince.

"Robby for short?" Cassie suggested. Paris nodded vigorously.

"Robby it is," said Michael. "Welcome to your new home, Robby." He ruffled the snoozing puppy's fur.

Cassie took a glance at her watch. It was now five in the evening. "I got to go now. See you guys around." She patted Prince, Paris and Robin's head affectionately.

"Hey, what about me?" Michael asked.

It was a simple, innocent question, but as he spoke the way his dark brown eyes would look straight into hers was so delightful yet disarming. Cassie allowed herself several seconds of luxurious liberty to gaze and search his face.

Do you know how wonderful you are?

Those few short moments passed. And she knew her place.

Cassie averted her gaze and in response to his silly question, smiled and shook her head. "Aha, you. I know something: you've  fallen victim to this bundle of cuteness. Prince, Paris, keep an eye on your daddy to make sure he doesn't sneak Robby too many treats."

With a smile and one last nod of acknowledgement towards Michael, Cassie started out of the room. Prince and Paris had followed her advice; she could hear them warning Michael smartly. She smiled at this. At the door, however, she paused and pretended to fix a fold on the corner of her shirt.

One more look wouldn't hurt, a voice in Cassie's head assured, and before she could stop herself, her head turned to look over her shoulder.

A pair of brown eyes met her hazel ones. At exactly the same moment, Michael had turned to look at her as well.

- - -

 A/N: *waves arms madly in silence, dashes around, and accidentally runs into a wall* 

Eye contact, people, eye contact. Personally that's the thing that kills me. *faints*