That startles a small noise of amusement out of him. Not that he’s trying to make fun of Malcolm—it’s just… a sweet answer. Not one he expected.

“I don’t hate dogs. I love dogs.”

Apparently sensing a disturbance in the force, George starts scratching at the closed veranda door. Neal grins over at the cat before getting up to let him out and pick him up.

“I just happened to end up with a cat-shaped one.”