MOGH

Meet Mogh! We named him after a Klingon warlord — father of Worf, House of Mogh, a name that arrives pre-loaded with honor and glory. He has the look for it: sleek black coat, a splash of cream across the chest like ceremonial armor, one small white mark on his neck like a house crest. Then you open his kennel and the whole bit collapses. Mogh doesn't charge, and he doesn't jump. He spins — a slow, delighted circle, tail going the entire time, because you came. On leash he's easy, staying right with you and checking in like this is something the two of you do together. And if you stop to pet him, he'll circle around, lean his whole body into your leg, and stay there exactly as long as your hand keeps moving. He's a people's dog. One year and seven months old, here through no fault of his own, and still convinced every human he meets is his person. All warrior, no warfare. Come meet him.