A menacing guard dog who has a great deal of growing up to do yet, Ianto can't help but make a note of. One who is warm and soft in his arms and who might be squirming a little because John has found a good scratching spot, but she seems otherwise perfectly content to be held and petted and otherwise loved on. He ducks his head to nuzzle his face in her soft fur and breathe in her sweet puppy smell, sighing softly before picking his head up to offer the other man a smile.

"I think," he says, after a moment's thought, "that we can find a way to give her a good home. Whatever kind of a dog she turns out to be."