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Twenty: Oliver
Oliver's P.O.V.
Having her so close and not being able to touch her was torture. All evening she made a point of avoiding any physical contact with me. It almost made me want to go back to the way things were before she knew the truth.
A week ago, she would run her fingers through my fur or pat my head as she walked by. Now, there was an invisible barrier surrounding me, and she made a point to stay at least three feet away at all times. It was an impressive feat, given the limited amount of space in the house.
When she was cooking dinner, I couldn't help myself any longer after not having contact with her for so long and rubbed my head and shoulder against the back of her leg, making her jump. She sent me a glare to knock it off, and I tried not to laugh, letting out a choking, snort sound until she turned and set down a dog bowl of food, sending me a smirk with a sarcastic, 'good doggie'.
This resulted in a lot of attention and love
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