Odd how the world works. One minute you're off on your own, plans firmly in hand when fate decides that this is how it should be. My take on a most precipitous meeting.

The usual - don't own, not making money, grammatical errors are due to letters rearranging themselves behind my back. Punctuation errors are due to imps. Really – really they are!

Hope you enjoy, reviews are not solicitated but do warm the cockles of a writer's heart.

…

Tintin didn't need anyone. It didn't matter how young he was. He knew he was an incredibly capable youth and that he possessed talents children his age hadn't acquired yet - quick to learn, inquisitive nature, methodical and quite calm during moments of stress. Coupled with boyishly good looks that made him seem unthreatening, open, approachable.

Perfect for doing what he'd always wanted to be – a reporter.

He had stepped off the train in Brussels having contacted the newspaper that had accepted a few of his articles, fully intent on becoming a full-time investigative journalist.

He also fully intended on finding himself a place to live, several ads for furnished apartments in his coat pocket.

What he didn't intend upon was finding a small puppy, lost or abandoned, hiding under a soaked pile of cardboard.

The moment he spotted the despondent bundle, Tintin had stopped in his tracks and gently approached the tiny, shivering, huddled creature. Speaking softly and making sure not to make any sudden or threatening moves, he managed to get close. Brown eyes looked into his, small ears lifted and suddenly the pup was wriggling and straining to get as close as it could to this smiling human.

Quickly Tintin had scooped up the wet bundle of fur and placed the pup inside hs coat. The cold moistness made him shiver. But he could hear the ecstatic whines along with the joyful wriggling and kept it against him.

He decided that he would check out the apartment on Labrador road, as it was closest. Finding both the rooms and the landlady to his liking, he rapidly made arrangements to rent the four room flat on the second floor.

Purposely keeping the puppy in his jacket hidden, the small creature somehow knew to keep quiet. Perhaps it had fallen asleep?

But when the landlady – one Mrs. Finch – had departed with an invitation for hot cocoa any time he wanted, he had opened his coat to find the dog regarding him with gleeful trickery.

They had regarded each other for a long moment. Tintin had then set the pup down, who proceeded to shake itself dry all over the furniture and Tintin, followed by rapidly exploring its surroundings. Regarding the small kitchen and knowing there were no provisions, Tintin had turned to the dog and put a finger to his lips.

"I have to go to the store, so you'll have to stay quiet. I don't know what the policy is about pets here, but if you don't want to go back out into the street, you can't make any noise, okay?"

No-one had ever told Tintin that animals didn't understand speech (and he would have scoffed if they did – of course animals understood), and the pup had cocked his head at Tintin and then lay down, regarding him seriously.

Making the trip to the stores as quickly as he could, he returned to the apartment to find the small animal still in the same position.

"Good dog! Say – I don't know if you're a girl or boy. I suppose once I give you a bath, now don't look at me like that – you're absolutely filthy and I hate to say this, but you reek. Any way – I'll find out then if you're male or female."

As Tintin had spoke, he had fixed a feast of cold chicken, sliced french bread and hot tea for himself, and placed a serving of the chicken into another bowl, along with one filled with water. Setting the dishes down on the floor the contents were quickly inhaled.

Seeing those brown eyes look up at him imploringly, he gave in and added more chicken. Once again it was immediately devoured.

"Wow, you sure were hungry, huh?" Tintin smiled at the dog, who responded with a low 'whoa' and a tail wag.

"So, let's see about that bath, hmmm?" So saying, he scooped up the pup and strode toward the small bathroom just off the front bedroom. The dog wriggled around until its paws were wrapped around his neck and the cold black nose stuck under Tintin's chin. He could feel the animal's rapid heartbeat along with a suprising warmth for something so small.

Filling the sink with warm water as the tub was way too spacious for such a little thing, he gently slid the dog into the water. Accusing eyes stared back at him and the ears and tail drooped.

"It's okay, this is a good thing! You'll be nice and clean and I'll dry you right up!" Tintin explained cheerfully, causing the dog to perk.

It wasn't long before the water was a muddy brown and the pup was… "Look at you! Why, you're as white as snow! Snowy! What a perfect name for you, don't you agree?"

Apparently the dog agreed as it gave a confirming yap and then leaped straight for him. Tintin managed to grab hold of the squirming wet bundle and then wrapped a towel around it. In moments they were both on the floor laughing and growling as Tintin tried to wipe the pup dry, the dog deciding to make a game of it and attacking the towel quite ferociously for such a small mite. During the proceeding mayhem Tintin managed to ascertain that Snowy was a 'he'.

Moments later and the pup was running madly about the apartment, towel clamped in jaw, tiny paws tripping over the fabric but not slowing it down in the least. Tintin didn't know whether to laugh or scold, as the sight of the small creature valiantly running everywhere with its 'catch' was quite hysterical, yet Tintin didn't want the creature to be heard.

The last thing he wanted was for both of them to be turned out into the cold.

Fortunately he managed to snag the dog's attention with a scrap of chicken and the dog – Snowy – came to an abrupt halt, forgot the towel ever existed and was soon chewing happily away. Tintin built a fire in the main room and proceeded to sit in one of the two armchairs, relaxing in his new home.

Glancing around he found the furnishings nice, but rather bare. Well, he'd fix that soon enough. He fully planned on bringing back all sorts of treasures from his exploits and would display them most proudly.

Feeling something on his ankles, he peered down to find Snowy's paws scraping gently and bright, warm brown eyes pleading with him. Once again he scooped the pup up and placed him on his lap, where the dog circled a couple of times, gave a very exceptional yawn for such a tiny thing, lay down and promptly began to snore.

Tintin sat there for a long time, making a list of things he would need. In additional to more groceries, he'd need additional cleaning supplies, linens and the desk in the other room was way too small for his needs.

Top of the list was a dog bed, dog dishes, dog food, brushes, perhaps even a collar and leash. He probably should take the dog to a vet, make sure it was healthy not to mention see if it was any particular breed.

Glancing down at the sleeping bundle of fur, he smiled gently. He didn't need anybody. But this little pup sure needed somebody, and if fate dictated that Tintin was the one, then so be it. It was good to have something to look after, come home to, have somebody nearby. Sure it was small, but it seemed to be smart and was definetely charming. Though there was a hint of the devil in its eyes and Tintin imagined that the pup could become quite the handful.

He just knew the two of them would have many adventures together.

Fin