Cal stepped out of the i8, the sun glinting off his impeccably polished oxfords. Today, he was the picture of philanthropy, his casual every-guy clothing hugging his strong physique just right, and he knew just how to make his entrance at the humane society an event in and of itself. The crowd of news vans and cameras turned their lenses toward him, eager to capture the moment. He flashed them his most charming smile, the picture of ease and confidence.

"Mr. Crawford! Can you tell us about the gala last night?" a reporter called out, microphone extended.

Cal turned toward the voice, his demeanor calm and collected. "Last night was a phenomenal success. We've managed to gather record contributions, all for a cause close to my heart." He brought a hand to his heart for effect, his voice smooth and assured. "It's not just about the money; it's about making a tangible difference. These donations will go a long way in supporting the incredible work done here." 

Another journalist pushed through the throng, eager to get her question in. "What inspires you to support animal welfare, specifically? Do you have a rescue dog at home?" 

That, he didn't. Though the idea wasn't terrible. "There's something undeniably pure about helping those who can't ask for it themselves," Cal responded, his gaze sweeping over the assembled press. "Animals give us unconditional love and companionship. It's our responsibility to return that favor, isn't it?" 

As the interview wrapped up, Cal made his way inside the building, the clamor or reporters fading behind him. The interior was quiet compared to the spectacle outside, with posters of adoptable animals adorning the walls and young volunteers moving through the space with a sense of purpose. He could sense their exhaustion, yet admired their dedication.

Approaching the front desk, he met the manager, a woman in her 50s with a weary smile. As he handed over the donations, his charm surfaced effortlessly. "Your dedication is what makes all of this possible," he said, his voice warm, "Without people like you, where would these animals be?" 

The manager blushed at the flattery, clearly taken aback by the attention. "Thank you, Mr. Crawford. It's not often we get support of this magnitude." 

As they spoke, Cal's thoughts drifted, once more, to Ana. The memory of her smile seemed to haunt him in a way nothing else could -- not all of the great and terrible things he'd seen in his short life. But he was unlikely to be seeing her again any time soon, and the thought of long-term companionship had given way to a new idea. "Could I take a moment to see the dogs? All this has made me consider adding to my family." 

Delighted, the manager led him through the facility, past a deserted grooming area and into the heart of the kennels. The sight of the creatures, each with their own story of abandonment and loss, tugged at Cal's heartstrings. He had always loved animals, he'd simply never had time for them in his busy life. But nowadays, his role at work -- in both of his major endeavors -- was a bit more hands-off, with tasks delegated and everything working like a well-oiled machine. Perhaps he didn't have to spend his bachelor days alone after all.

He made his way through the line slowly, pausing at one kennel when he saw her -- a blue-grey pitbull, with wide-set eyes that resembled a small hippo. She wasn't as despondent as the others; their was a playful tilt to her head, and she wagged her tail happily when she saw him. Cal knew in that instant that she was the one. 

A bell chimed, signaling a new arrival at the front door, and the manager excused herself after letting Cal into the kennel with the dog. Cal stepped in, kneeling beside her and allowing her to sniff his hand before she rubbed against it while he scratched behind her ears. "What do you say, old girl? Want to come home with me?" he asked softly, his voice a gentle rumble.

The dog nuzzled his hand, her tail wagging in a display of affection. A name pricked at the corner of his mind instantaneously, and he said it aloud to see how it felt. "Pearl," he said, and the dog tilted its head with a curious expression. "Luna?" he asked, and the dog didn't respond, remaining indifferent before him. "Maggie. Bella. Lola." Still nothing. Hmm, she was a tough one. "Stella?" At that, the pitbull let out a playful bark, raising to her feet expectantly. Cal laughed. "Alright. Stella it is."