Disclaimer: Glee is not mine

Ah, canines. Wonderful creatures, those. They're loyal, trusting, kind, and, best of all, really useful for your dating life. Unlike humans, dogs are always willing to run up to someone you're interested in and introduce you. They're clever about it, too: they seem to know that bounding up to someone and wagging their tail is way more effective than an awkward "Hey… see my friend over there?"

-Unknown

This is not what was supposed to happen.

No, what was supposed to happen was that he'd go with his mom and Kurt to pick up her new dog from the shelter, drop them off at home and hopefully get a hot meal as thanks. But instead, he's standing at the counter filling out adoption papers all because of a damn poodle that decided to adopt him.

His mom had insisted he go into the puppy room with her so he could see the yellow Labrador puppy she'd settled on and decided to name Alan. The yipping had started the moment the shelter worker opened the door and they'd filed in, a bevy of puppies excitedly dancing around their feet. Kurt, ever mindful of his clothes and shoes, had opted to stay outside the door and watch, but he'd happily settled on the floor with the dogs, quickly initiating a game of tug of war with Alan while his mother discussed Alan's food with the shelter worker.

A gentle nudge on his arm had startled him, making him lose the tug of war to Alan, who immediately scampered away, the rope clasped firmly in his mouth. A quick look to his left revealed a small brown poodle to be the nudger, brown eyes looking happily up at him and tail wagging expectantly. He'd smiled at the tiny dog, amused by how the fluffy fur made the dog resemble his old teddy bear, but before he could even reach out to pet the dog, it had climbed into his lap and placed two paws on his chest, tail still going and brown eyes now staring up at him as if to say "I'm cute and you want me. You know you do."

His new friend, he'd been informed by the shelter worker, had been born in the shelter a few weeks earlier and unlike her brothers and sisters, never came out to socialize with prospective owners, choosing instead to stay in her cocoon of blankets. Apparently, he was the first person they'd seen the little poodle interact with and while he was happy the puppy had become acclimated to the presence of humans, he wasn't here to adopt a puppy. He was simply the driver so his mom could sit in the back with Alan.

Unfortunately, no one spoke poodle and could inform the little dog of this since no matter where in the puppy room he went, the poodle went too, happily sitting at his feet and wagging her tail, a paw placed carefully on his shoe. The shelter worker, delighted at this turn of events, ran off to get her manager, leaving them alone in the puppy room. Even Kurt had noticed what was going on, opening the door a crack to call out that Finn should adopt the dog that keeps following him.

"It's a fucking poodle, Kurt," he hissed. "That's a woman's dog."

"Kurt's right, baby! You could call her Charlotte!" The matter already settled in her mind, his mom reached out to pet the poodle, who promptly scurried behind Finn's legs, peeking out between his legs to peer at Carole.

"I'm not calling her Charlotte! It's a poodle," he pointed out again, the little dog seated between his legs, having decided that it might be in her best interest to let Carole pet her. Her little tail swished side to side, hitting his shoes as his mom scratched her ears.

"Why not? She likes you, don't you Charlotte?" Carole cooed, simultaneously petting the poodle and Alan, who'd wandered back over with his rope. "You could come visit your Uncle Alan at my house."

"I'd take Charlotte, Finn. At least it's one female who likes you," Kurt called out, shutting the door before a small ball of black fur could escape.

"Shut up, Kurt," he hissed. "Why don't you adopt her then?"

"Charlotte wants you baby, not Kurt," Carole insisted. "Adopt her."

"It's a fucking poodle," he repeated weakly, already picturing the mocking he'd be subjected to. "I can't adopt a fucking poodle. Especially one named Charlotte."

"Why not?" Kurt's head peeked through the door again. "You two have the same type of hair that can't be controlled. It's clearly meant to be."

"It's. A. Fucking. Poodle," he stated again, frowning as Alan decided he also wanted to sit between Finn's legs, which meant the poodle was about to be steamrolled. Afraid for her, he reached down and scooped her up, the poodle promptly licking his face as thanks before she snuggled into his arms with a yawn.

"See! Charlotte wants you to adopt her!" Carole insisted as she picked up Alan and cuddled him to her chest, just as the shelter worker came back in with her manager, who promptly squealed when she saw the sleeping poodle in his arms. "Kurt's right. It's meant to be."

Evidently, his kickass "it's a fucking poodle" argument held no water, since almost before he knew it, the manager had whisked out the papers and began explaining the adoption process to him, the tiny dog still asleep in his arms.

"Now, we'll call your references today and if all goes well, you can pick her up tomorrow after she has her shot," the manager explains. "Any ideas of what you want to call her?"

"Charlotte," Carole answers for him, nodding in satisfaction as the manager writes the name on the adoption papers. "Her name is Charlotte."

Charlotte whimpers and tries to get back to him when he hands her over to the manager and he's still a little shell shocked later at the pet store as he's picking out supplies for Charlotte with his mom, while Kurt stresses over collar choices for both Alan and Charlotte. It finally hits him what he's done when Kurt proudly shows him the ID tags he's made for the puppies over at the engraver machine, a New York Jets themed one in the shape of a biscuit for Alan while Charlotte's is heart shaped and edged by pink rhinestones. While Alan's name is written in masculine block letters, Kurt's chosen to have the name Charlotte engraved in elegant script in the middle of the heart just above his phone number. Her name sitting above his phone number makes him pause.

Holy shit. He's adopted a dog.

He's adopted a dog, which means she's going to be totally dependent on him for everything and he's responsible now for someone other than himself. Still, it's a dog and dogs are pretty kickass. He can totally teach Charlotte to do all sorts of awesome things and he kind of figures that she can eat the stuff he drops on the floor, which means he won't have to vacuum his apartment anymore. The thought makes him grin and he just knows this is going to be awesome. It's a dog, how could it not be?

Even if it is a fucking poodle.

She doesn't expect New York to be so…lonely.

It's not like she expected to take Broadway by storm (although super deep down she did), but she'd at least expected to make some friends to supplement the few friends she'd left behind in Ohio. And yet it's been a month and her new friend count is zero. Four Fridays of sitting on the couch watching Say Yes to the Dress, followed by four Saturdays of whatever she felt like watching on Netflix, her puppy on the couch next to her. Which brings her to her other problem.

Pongo needs a friend.

She's been worried about the Dalmatian puppy ever since she'd brought him home, afraid that he was just as lonely as she was. He'd been a gift from her fathers, who'd determined that she needed protection if she was going to insist on moving to New York and not live with them in Ohio. They'd specifically chosen the breed for both practical and sentimental reasons, knowing the Dalmatian's reputation for being both a fire dog and a rescue dog as well as the fact that Rachel had always loved the Disney movie 101 Dalmatians when she was little.

She'd been excited to go to the breeder once they'd arrived in New York, playing with all the puppies and finally deciding on a male with black spots emerging all over his body except for his face. She liked the fact that his face remained pure white while his ears and body were polka dotted; deciding it gave him character and she'd immediately christened him Pongo after the dog from 101 Dalmatians.

Her dads had stayed with her while she and Pongo became acclimated to both each other and their new townhouse, but all too soon it was just them, alone in a new city. Technically, they were actually just outside the city, nestled away in a small town up in Westchester and while she'd been annoyed at first at her fathers for insisting that the townhouse they would be paying for be in a safe town of their choosing, she was glad for Pongo's sake that he actually had grass to play on rather than the concrete streets of Manhattan.

She'd taken careful note of the residents coming and going from the townhouses surrounding hers as she'd walked Pongo outside to his designated bathroom tree each time, hoping to see some potential friends for Pongo and herself (and maybe a boyfriend) but so far, she'd been sadly disappointed.

The guy who liked to run shirtless throughout the complex had possible boyfriend potential and she'd worn her best casual but still sexy outfits the next few times she'd walked Pongo, giving a tentative wave as he'd jogged by. Brody had jogged to a stop after her third attempt and she'd flirted shamelessly each subsequent walk until she'd seen him talking to an older woman who looked like she wanted to devour him right there and he didn't seem to put off by it, actually following the woman into her townhouse. He might not have been put off by it, but she certainly was, altering Pongo's bathroom schedule to avoid Brody's jogs.

Other than Brody, things around the Laurel Hollow Townhouse Complex weren't looking too promising which was why she'd finally resorted to calling the breeder, worried that Pongo was missing out on making friends. Will had been less than helpful, assuring her that Pongo would be fine and that it would all work out. Not satisfied by that answer, she resumes her walks, continuing to scope out the canine and human scene around the complex.

This new bathroom schedule courtesy of Brody has them out much earlier in the morning and it's on her third day of the new schedule when she actually sees a dog and his owner. She's a little frightened at first, since it's 6AM, still dark out and both the dog and his owner are huge, but she relaxes a little once they get closer and she sees a tennis ball clamped in the Bull Mastiff's mouth. They walk under a streetlight, allowing Rachel to see that his owner is actually a large masculine woman that she's noticed walking to the next building over a few times.

Still nervous, she glances down at Pongo, but as usual, he's more interested in the snazzy red leash she'd bought to match his red collar, rolling onto his back as he holds the leash in his mouth. The puppy jerks his head back and forth as he plays with the leash in his mouth making the leash tangle around his legs and effectively hog tying himself.

"Pongo, no!" she hisses, her chances at a quick escape eviscerated by him tangling himself. She tugs at the leash, hoping it'll miraculously untangle but Pongo seems to think she's playing a game, jerking his head back to keep the leash tangled. "Pongo!"

"You know, if you want the dog to listen, you really need to use a more authoritative voice."

She turns at the deep voice, surprised to see the Bull Mastiff and his owner standing in the street right next to the grassy patch she and Pongo are sharing. "I'm sorry?"

"Your voice. It sounds too friendly, so he thinks you're playing," the woman explains, doing some sort of hand motion in front of her dog, who immediately sits.

"Oh." She flushes; worried this woman might not think she's a responsible pet owner, especially since Pongo is still tangled in his leash while the Bull Mastiff is sitting calmly next to his owner, the tennis ball still clamped firmly in his mouth. "I'm new at this. Actually, I'm new here."

"I can tell. I've seen you two out here, although never this early." She bends down, her voice reassuring as she reaches a hand out to Pongo. The puppy immediately stops playing with his leash to sniff her hand. "I'm Shannon. Shannon Beiste. And this here is Wayne. I think we live in the next building over from you."

"Rachel Berry." She watches quietly as Shannon pets Pongo a few times before attempting to untangle the puppy. "And this is Pongo."

"How ya doing, Pongo?" Shannon asks, patting his head as she works on the last of the tangles. Freed, Pongo immediately jumps up against Shannon a few times.

"Pongo! We don't jump!" Rachel cries only to have Pongo ignore her, as he bounces around his new friends. "I'm so sorry Shannon."

"Not a problem. You should have seen Wayne when I first got him." She jerks her thumb towards Wayne, who's still sitting in the same spot, watching Pongo lower himself onto his front paws, his tail wagging happily as he tries to get Wayne to play. "He was a maniac. Running all over the place and only stopping when I played Wayne Newton music. That's how he got his name."

She laughs at that. "Really? He's a Wayneniac?"

"Huge. Danke Schoen would stop him in his tracks," Shannon replies fondly, giving Wayne a head rub. "I even got Wayne Newton to autograph his collar last year."

"So you're saying I should find out who Pongo's favorite artist is and he'll calm down?" The thought strikes her that she's clearly eliminated, since Pongo's heard her sing many times and never had a reaction, which makes her frown. "He does like that Dalmatian Plantation song from 101 Dalmatians, but I'm not sure who sings that."

"Oh no. You'll need to do a lot more than that," Shannon predicts, watching a yipping Pongo bounce around Wayne. "I bet Pongo will calm in no time."

Rachel highly doubts this, but not about to argue with a potential friend, she pastes a smile on her face. "What did you do?"

"Obedience school." She eyes Pongo thoughtfully. "You know, there's a class down at the local dog park. Meets every Saturday."

"Oh?" The idea excites her, simply because a class means other dogs for Pongo and more importantly other people, hopefully of the young variety.

"I teach the beginner class with Wayne here but there's a puppy class you could enroll in." She pats Pongo on the head once more. "It's called puppy pre-school."

"Where do I sign up?" Rachel demands, too excited about the possibility of meeting people to chastise Pongo for jumping up on Shannon again. "Are there a lot of people in the class?"

To her disappointment, Shannon shakes her head. "Puppy preschool has eight dogs max. Sue doesn't allow more than that."

"Oh." She supposes she should just take what she can get but part of her hopes the seven other dogs in the class are accompanied by seven cute boys. "So how do I sign up? Do I just show up at the park?"

Shannon snorts. "Sue would hate that. Tell you what. Wayne and I will stop by after football practice today and get you all set up."

"Really?" Her mind is already running wild with ideas for being a good hostess, ranging from possible recipes she could make to checking her iPod to see if she owned any Wayne Newton songs and she can barely keep the excitement out of her voice. "You're going to come over?"

"Sure." She gives Pongo a final pat. "Football practice finishes around five, so I can probably come over about 5:30, if that's ok."

"That's fine," she replies quickly, thinking it really didn't matter what time Shannon came over since it's not like she had a job or friends or anything that might take up her time. "We're right over there in Building 3, number 104."

"Well alright then. Wayne and I will see you later." She does some sort of hand movement again and Wayne stands this time, ignoring Pongo yipping at him as he starts to walk calmly next to Shannon.

"Bye!" she calls out excitedly, tugging Pongo's leash so he'll follow her back to their apartment. Pongo has other ideas, immediately heading off to the left via the space between Rachel's legs to check out a rock. She sighs, stepping over the leash. "Come on, Pongo. We have to get ready to host our new friends."

The thought makes her grin and she spends the rest of the day cleaning and cooking, so that by the time Shannon is due to arrive, she's baked three different types of cookies, created a vegetable platter, ran out to the supermarket for a variety of beverages and even made homemade biscuits for Pongo and Wayne.

Shannon and Wayne arrive as promised at 5:30 and she's not sure who's more excited, her or Pongo. She kind of figures Pongo is, since he promptly pees from excitement on Shannon's shoe.

"Pongo! We don't go peepee on our friends!" Rachel cries in horror while the puppy looks back at her and gives a large yawn as he finishes. Unlike Rachel, he's clearly not embarrassed since he begins to paw at Shannon's shoe laces, his tail wagging happily. "I'm so sorry Shannon."

"Nothing I haven't had happen before." Shannon waves her off as she bends down to Pongo's level. "Looks to me like this little guy is ready for pre-school."

"We really are working on potty training," Rachel stresses. "I don't know why he did that. He usually just uses the pad."

Shannon shrugs, pulling off her shoe and placing it outside Rachel's door. "It happens. They'll go over all that in puppy pre-school."

"Oh." Relieved that Shannon's not mad, she picks up a bouncing Pongo and carries him into the kitchen, Shannon and Wayne following. She waits until Shannon's settled at the table with Wayne at her feet before she gestures to her kitchen island which she'd loaded down with all the cookies and the vegetable platter as well as the various beverages. "Help yourself. This tray right here is for Wayne and Pongo, though. I'd normally put this out on the coffee table in the living room but Pongo likes to shoplift."

Shannon laughs, reaching for a cookie. "Did you really make homemade biscuits?"

She nods, slightly embarrassed. "I saw the recipe in Everyday with Rachael Ray magazine. And well, since I'm currently unemployed, I thought I'd try it. There were more but Pongo stole them."

Shannon laughs again, holding a biscuit out to Wayne, who immediately sits. "Well, that'll stop once he goes to pre-school."

"Really?" she asks, relieved at the thought since she's lost a lot of food this way. "So tell me more about pre-school."

"You're in luck. There's a new class starting this Saturday." Shannon immediately launches into a full description of the class and she grows more excited with each detail, particularly when Shannon actually demonstrates what they'll learn and gets Pongo to sit, something she'd been practicing to no avail.

They end up staying for dinner and by the end of it, Shannon's promised to introduce her to the music teacher at the high school she works at, claiming Will's always looking for a vocal coach to help with the glee club. It's not Broadway but she'll take it since it's not like she's got anything else going on. Shannon's even promised to bring her and Pongo to pre-school on Saturday, the thought of which excites her since she won't look like a loser showing up by herself.

She manages to wait until the door closes behind Shannon and Wayne before she squeals, hugging Pongo to her chest in excitement. "We made two friends!"

Pongo licks her face to show his excitement and she places a big kiss on his head as she walks to the bedroom, her mind whirling. It's only Tuesday and she's already wondering how long she needs to wait before she can call Shannon to invite her and Wayne over for movie musical night. She decides to play it cool and wait until she sees them on Saturday but that doesn't stop her from running through a potential list of movies in her head as well as snacks to make. She's only been in New York for a month but she can already tell Saturday is going to be the best day she's had in New York.

She can't wait.

A/N: So yeah. I still can't quite wrap my head around what's happened and while I most likely won't be watching Glee depending on the direction they take, Finn was Cory, but Cory wasn't Finn which means I can compartmentalize and keep writing. In my mind, I feel that the character needs to live on and that fact that my stories are all AU makes it easier to do that. I think Cory would want Finn to live on in all forms, so I intend to do that.

Also, the poll was SUPER SUPER close and I just had this in my head probably because I'm currently in Obedience School with my own puppy, although we're in the Kindergarten class. So what I decided to do was post the first parts of both this story and My Eyes Adored You today (look for it later tonight). I guess I'm just incapable of writing a one shot, since this one is already over 13,000 words.

Finn with a poodle just makes me laugh and his "it's a fucking poodle" argument is actually based off an old coworker of mine who had me in hysterics on the subway one day after work telling me the story of how he went to the pet store for a ferret and came out with a poodle. "I'm telling you, Michelle. I kept going 'it's a fucking poodle! I can't get a poodle! I'm a man!"

And yes, I'm aware of how long it's been for COAST.