Good luck
I found a wounded giant wolf.
After the world ended, I treated him as my strongest fighter and a living source of warmth, curling against him to sleep every night.
Later, once he healed, he turned into a man and warned me with a savage look, "I'm the Alpha of a werewolf pack. I have responsibilities to my people. Don't think you can make me stay."
And with that, he left.
I pulled my ragged blanket tighter, confused.
What was he talking about?
I had been keeping him as a dog the whole time. What did his responsibilities have to do with me?
Later, I rescued a foolish husky from a pile of zombies. When I led him back to my crumbling shelter, I found the heir to the werewolf pack crouched at my door, covered in blood and looking utterly betrayed.
His voice was hoarse, close to tears:
"Throw that thing out and keep me instead, all right? I'm bigger, stronger, and have a thicker coat. I can warm your bed, and I'm better in that department too!
"...If you don't agree, I'm kicking that stupid dog of yours back into the zombie pile!"