They left me to work alone in my private room for the rest of the day, I was grateful for that. I took copious notes, the link to which is found at the back of this text for those curious about details I have left out here for brevity.

It was a relief to work privately after having struggled with the crowd, there is a tranquility to private academic work, as I’m sure my fellows here at University would agree, and it did wonders for settling my anxious mind. It was a few hours into my work when I had a knock at my door. I sat up from my workspace and said, “Come in, Fauve.”

“How did you know it was me?” She asked when the door opened. Her long brown hair was bound into knots and hung over the front of her shoulder, human hair is a remarkable thing, surprisingly strong, humans have even used this as a natural and silent murder weapon in the past. They would take cut lengths of hair, loop it over the throat, and choke their victim to death. But beyond this, the human vanity over hair has led to all kinds of interesting treatments, including deliberately tying it into knots to keep it more orderly… somehow.

“I could smell you.” I said matter of factly and the human girl stopped dead, lifted her left arm, took a sniff beneath it, then lifted her right arm, and sniffed beneath it in turn.

“I took a shower.” She said and crossed her arms, her expression was thin lipped and her brown eyes narrowed at me. I'd messed up, I knew she was miffed.

I reacted as fast as I could and tapped the end of my snout, “I have a better nose than humans. And a dlamisa never forgets a smell.”

“Oh.” She snapped her fingers and brightened up, “I thought you meant I stink. I was about to get offended.”

“Technically everything ‘stinks’ doesn’t it? A stink is just a strong smell, and everything, to me at least, has a strong smell.” I replied and pushed aside the datapad I was entering my observations into.

She looked away and began tapping her foot, her hands rested on her hips and she said, “Technically… maybe, but you know, it’s bad form to tell a girl she ‘stinks’. If it isn’t a bad smell, you could at least say it is fragrant.”

“I can see how you take after your father.” I answered, and she gave a little nod, she didn’t say it, but I could see that pleased her, and I added, “Fine, I knew it was you because I recognized your pleasant fragrance.”

“Better.” She said with a satisfied nod and relaxed her arms before looking at me again and asking, “How would you like to get out for a little while? Dad went to pick up mom, and he’ll probably stop to pick up something from a restaurant to go, mom likes to do that and he’ll usually give her what she wants if it isn’t too much, so we probably have an hour or two before they get back.”

My tail drooped, “I’m a little bit peopled out right now. Plus I really should finish putting in my observations-” I stopped when she pouted a little, a human pout is compelling, their lips turn down just a little and their eyes get wide… it is especially effective when it comes to young girls. According to my observations of their media, fathers can seldom resist it when their daughters pout. The desire to make each other happy drives a great deal of human behavior.

There are worse motivations.

But notably, I was affected.

“There shouldn’t be many people, if any. I wanted to go to the park, it’s a short walk from the house, and it might help you relax.” She replied to me and held eye contact the entire time.

The promise of a lack of people was appealing… and the day was a nice one.

“You know what… maybe it is a good idea to take a break.” I said and rose to my feet. Her face lit up and I followed her toward the basement exit. The room I was given was part of a larger area, a lot of it was storage… humans are hoarders compared to most races, and to be frank a lot of dust was down there, old boxes and other things were plentiful. But it did have a separate bathroom and shower, a place I could call ‘my own’ even if it wasn’t perfect, and it had its own entry and exit to ensure I was able to come and go as I pleased.

We left and began to walk down the street, when after only a few minutes Fauve said to me…

“I usually either go alone or with my dad to the park, I don’t have a lot of friends, and don’t really want them either. I’m not really a people person.”

“So why invite me?” I asked, genuinely curious and surprised by the blunt nature of this girl. I'm sure I have said it before, but I must add again, the diversity of human personality is wild, and some, like her, could have passed for another race entirely if we went only by their personalities. She could have passed for a dlamisa with ease if that was her attitude.

She shrugged, “A whim. You’re going to be living with us, I figured I should at least try to get to know you. And how often does someone get the chance to talk to a real live alien outside of data com chats between systems?”

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“So this is for science?” I asked, and she seemed to take that to be a joke, as she gave me a casual punch on the shoulder.

“You can call it that. I do want to satisfy my curiosity though.” She answered, and while I thought her answer was strange, I didn’t get a chance to get clarification as she began peppering me with more questions about myself and my life and my homeworld.

The capacity for curiosity in this species was proving to be one of my favorite things, and she let me talk all the way to the park.

The park she mentioned took about fifteen of their minutes to walk to, including a long walk down a winding slope. When we reached the bottom, I found that the park was cut into pieces by a winding and slow moving stream. It wasn’t deep enough for me to comfortably call it a river, nor was it especially wide. But it was impressive in its own way, the babbling water cut its way through grass and stone. I saw a fish leap from the water and splash into a spot deeper than the one it left. Insects buzzed around the edge in tiny swarms, and a small playground meant for human children, including a wobbly bridge and some swinging seats sat waiting for use. The play area was rubberized to protect children from injury, and this was my chance to ask something that bothered me. Something I’d seen in older human films but changed in later ones.

I pointed to the play area and said, “In the old films, there were just a bunch of rocks where your young would land if they fell. But here, and in later movies, it transitioned to these soft rubber surfaces, how come?”

I didn’t really expect Fauve to know the answer, but then… maybe I should have, given her innate and seemingly boundless curiosity and pushiness when it came to wanting answers.

“Easy, rocks hurt. So they replaced it with rubber.” She replied.

“But the older ones had rocks, so why…?” I scratched my head and Fauve cocked her head at me just as mine cocked at her.

“Because if you want things to suck for your kids because it sucked for you, you’re a shit parent and shouldn’t have kids. That’s how my dad put it. He says stuff like that a lot. Don’t get him started talking about old people. He doesn’t like people who don’t like change, let alone people who don’t like improvement.” Fauve chortled a little at that and I gathered it was an old rant I was hearing about.

Before I could ask more, again the girl got ahead of me and pulled out a ball from the pouch she wore behind her back. She held it up so I could clearly see it, turned so that she was to my side, and threw it as hard as she could over the grass.

I have… no idea why I chased it. What kind of buried instincts within my brain compelled me to go after that little green round ball must have been buried deep in my subconscious. But I ran. I locked my forearms and fell to all fours, going as fast as I could as it bounced farther and farther away… and then drew closer and closer as it lost momentum and I picked up speed.

Then I had it. I caught it in my jaws, clamped down on it, and when the ball let out a scream like squeak, I was thrilled, all three of my hearts were beating at once and going faster than I’d ever felt. I relaxed and squeezed my jaw again and again, again and again, again and again, listening to that screaming noise it made until I came to my senses and realized what I’d done.

I relaxed my arms and stood up on two legs, then dropped the ball into my hand and walked back over to Fauve. She held out her hand for the ball and I returned it, albeit with some reluctance.

Why was I reluctant? Why did I not want to give it back? Why did I give it back if not for her to throw it again? A thousand questions ran through my head, not the least of which was why in the galaxy’s nebula did she throw it… and did she expect I would chase it down?

I was halfway toward it for the second time before I realized I’d moved, and even when I realized I was running on all fours, I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t stop because I didn’t want to. And I didn’t want to because I was having fun.

So I went with it. Questions could wait, I caught it, returned it to her, and she threw it again. I caught it. Returned it to her. And she threw it again.

Once, she threw the ball so that it went into the water, I never hesitated, I splashed in, feeling the cool crystalline droplets spatter over my red and black fur, feeling the wind swishing over my body, I didn’t even care that the ball was wet when I grabbed and squeezed it in my jaw.

I couldn’t tell you how many times I chased it, and Fauve did not keep count.

All I knew was that it was many. A very great many.

It went on until I was huffing and puffing so much and so hard that if I’d been close to the house, I might have blown it down.

It was only when I gave the ball back to her and she put it away in the little pack she wore on her back that I asked her the meaning of her actions.

“I just wondered how much you had in common with dogs, this seemed like a good way to find out.” Fauve replied, and when she looked up at me she said, “And I thought we might have some fun.”

I don’t know why, but I crouched down like I had for Michael at the transport station, and I let her scratch behind my ears and pat my head. I remembered what my professor said, ‘Humans are the only species with "found families" and are aggressively protective of them. This includes their found parents, siblings, children, and much, much more. If you find a human spending more time with you and initiating physical contact, you should assume that you have been adopted.’

If he was right, then it looked like I’d found myself another human, and it seemed like my tail certainly agreed, since it would not stop wagging any more than I could stop panting. “So, you want to head back?” She asked, “Mom and dad will probably be home soon if they’re not already.” She pulled out her phone from her pocket… perhaps I should add here that Fauve did not dress in the same fashion as her mother. At least not that I’d seen yet. She wore cutoff jeans with pockets and carried no purse. She was if anything, dressed closer to her father.

She checked her phone and found nothing before storing it away, and I replied that yes, we should go ahead and head back. I did pause and look around the park though, there was a winding dirt trail just on the other side of the creek, and I wanted to see where it led. The strange thing about humans is that they will radically modify their environments, and then seek out unmodified or far less modified environments in pursuit of pleasure, leaving behind the things they made that are presumably also made for their comfort and enjoyment.

If it does not make sense to you, believe me, you are not alone.