Amy Pond had always loved dogs. Ever since she was a little girl when her Aunt Sharon had sometimes looked after Merry, the dog from down the road. Even now stuck back in 1938, she still loves them. But they never bought one because Rory was Allergic to the fur. She wondered why she was thinking of dogs, right now when there was talk of war. Dogs of all the things.
"Rory, come here." Amy called.
"What is it Amy?" He yelled back.
"There's a box."
"A box."
"Yeah, a box."
"What kind of box?"
"A blue box."
He ran down the stairs, knowing that only one person would send them a blue box. It was small, and a dark blue colour. TARDIS blue.
"What do you think is in it?" She asked.
" I don't know, only one way to find out."
She ripped open the blue cardboard, put aside the blue tape, and reached inside. She pulled out the object. It was something metal that was wrapped in a luminous, yellow blanket. It was a police dog blanket, one of the bright modern ones that wouldn't be seen for years.
"A police dog blanket? Why would he send us something wrapped in a police dog blanket?"
"I dunno?" Rory replied.
She pulled of the police dog blanket, and gasped.
It was a dog. But not the type of dog that would set off Rory's allergy. It was a dog made of metal.
"What the Hell? A metal dog, a toy dog?" Rory exclaimed.
"I think he's kind of cute." She patted the metal dog's head.
"You're mental." Rory muttered
"Good dog!" She cooed.
"Affirmative."
"Did it just talk?" Rory asked.
"Affirmative."
"A talking, metal dog, what next? I suppose it can shoot lasers from its nose?"
"Affirmative" A single beam of red light shot from the dogs nose.
"Jesus."
"Do you, umm, have a name?" Amy asked.
"Affirmative mistress."
"Hmm Mistress, what is it?"
"K9 Mistress."
"K9, as in canine, very inventive." Rory said sarcastically.
"Affirmative."
"Are you from the Doctor?" Amy asked.
"Affirmative."
"can you say something other than affirmative?"
"affirmative."
"Do you have a message or any thing from him?"
"Affirmative."
"Well then play message."
"Playing Message." K9 whirred. "Hello Ponds, I hope the angels sent you back to the same time, and I am sorry that I cannot make it back to you, paradoxes and all. So I sent you a parting gift, my old friend K9. I hope you make him feel loved, as I seemed to be giving them out like they grow on tree's, I must see how Sarah Jane is getting on with hers. Mark I and II got left behind on Gallifrey when, well… He does not need feeding, but you can take him out on the occasional walk. And make sure the my old pal Winston does not get his hands on him, as you know what he is like with alien technology. Live well my old friends."
"So this is an alien dog."
"It seems so."
"And by 'old pal Winston' Does he by any chance mean Winston Churchill?"
"Yeah, I think he does."
"And by 'you know what hes like' does that mean you have met him."
"Yeah."
"When was this."
"Before we picked you up."
"Ah right."
"Yeah."
"Come on K9, walkies."
I like to think that they made it back to each other after the angels. i was considering putting this as a chapter on my 'K9 oneshots' story, on my other account 'Whovian-halfbloods' but i think i deserves it own story don't you agree.
