Clooney had gotten used to a very particular routine since he'd been retired from the TSA's drug detection force where he'd spent the better part of his life stationed at Dulles. Life with Derek was comfortable – he spent most of his days sleeping (on the furniture if he could get away with it) and got more treats than entirely wise or necessary. And, even though Derek would occasionally bring home a strange woman for a night, he never had to compete for Derek's attention.

All in all, life was exactly the way he liked it...

Then, things started to change.

It started with a vaguely familiar scent – one he'd sensed before on Derek and occasionally gotten a quick sniff of when she would drop by briefly – only this time, she spent the night. And, when he came into the room to wake Derek for his morning feeding, he found the woman still there.

For six months, the woman came and went every few nights.

Clooney got to know her fairly well. She would sneak him food off the table and always saved a few French fries from her meal to give him (she called them puppy fries even though he definitely was no longer puppy). She let him sit on the couch with her while she was reading and sometimes, he'd rest his head in her lap as a thank you for breaking the (admittedly rather loose) rule about no dogs on the furniture.

He decided Emily was acceptable...so long as she didn't insist on taking too much of Derek's attention.

Then, in the seventh month, she came one day with a bunch of boxes and then never left.

Clooney wasn't sure he liked this development.

Something had changed and he couldn't quite figure out what it was...

Because while she still fed him puppy fries and she still let him up on the sofa, she also made Derek do crazy things like rearrange the furniture and paint the spare bedroom with the sunny spot where he liked to nap.

It was all very perplexing.

One day, he was resting his head on Emily's lap when he felt something jab him. He looked up sharply, glaring at Emily like she had personally wronged him. And, instead of apologizing, she just laughed and scratched him between the ears.

"Clooney, meet Baby. Baby, meet Clooney," she said.

Clooney cocked his head, staring at her with confusion. What did she mean baby? He didn't see any baby.

As if sensing his lack of understanding, she patted her belly and informed him, "In a few months, you'll get to meet your new best friend properly... I just know you're going to love her so much. Yes, you will. Because you're just like your Dad – you're going to be wrapped around her little finger so fast."

Clooney didn't know to whom she was referring, but he resented the insinuation that he was anyone's pet. He was the boss around here and everyone knew it. That's the way he liked it.

Nevertheless, he rested his head back in her lap, nuzzling as close to her belly as he could get, waiting to feel the jab again.

By the time nine months rolled around, Clooney had more or less accepted that his life was just never going to go back to the comfortable routine he'd once enjoyed. For the most part, he was okay with that. Because Derek seemed happy and if Derek was happy, then he was happy too.

Emily, on the other hand, seemed less happy. She stopped coming with them on walks. She didn't make room for him on the bed. She sometimes forgot to give him puppy fries. Clooney was trying not to take it personally, but the lack of fries was an especially hard pill to swallow...especially when you normally only swallowed pills hidden in cheese.

Then, there came the day – or rather middle of the night – when Emily made a sound that Clooney had never heard before or since... It was the sound of someone in incredible pain.

Deeply disconcerted by the sound, Clooney whined softly as he watched her clutching the sides of the bathroom sink, struggling to catch her breath. Then, when she lowered herself to sit on the floor, trembling slightly, he padded over to her and curled up next to her.

Emily combed her fingers through his fur, occasionally gripping tightly at the strands and whimpering as pain wracked her body. After a particularly intense bout of pain, as he stared up at her and whined, she met his gaze and choked out an apology, "I'm sorry, Clooney...I'm sorry I'm such a bitch..."

Clooney whined again, cocked his head as if quizzical.

She let out a pained little laugh. "Well, not the kind of bitch you'd like," she joked weakly. "You're such a good boy, aren't you? And I've been so mean..." She sobbed, guilt swelling inside her chest making it hard to breathe. "I'm sorry."

As if to show her he didn't hold any grudges, he gingerly licked the back of her hand, then rested his head on her belly.

She let out another laugh, though it was quickly followed by a cry of pain.

Distressed, Clooney padded back into the bedroom, leapt up on the bed, and pressed his cold nose against Derek's face, waking him up with a start. "Clooney..." he groaned, "It's the middle of the night, get off the bed and go back to sleep..."

He was insistent, though, and eventually Derek reluctantly rolled out of bed and followed him to the bathroom to find Emily on all fours, alternating between panting and sobbing.

"Jesus, Em..." Derek exclaimed, kneeling down so he could meet her gaze. "What the hell happened?"

"She's coming..." she said, looking incredibly pitiful with tears in her eyes, body contorting in pain. He nodded, seemed about to say something, but she didn't let him get that far. "Now!"

His eyes widened. "Now?" he repeated. When she nodded, he said, "Okay, I'll call an ambulance and..."

"No time!" she hollered.