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Hickory he/him
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    When no one else was in the garden, Hickory had taken to caring for it. His little paws would pat the soil, seeing what was dry and what was wet, pouring water from a wooden bowl. He wasn’t actually sure how much water each plant was supposed to get, but so far, after moons of watering, none had died so he figured he was doing well. So far no one had caught him, and if someone was out there they didn’t stop him. Maybe they figured he was ranked a healer, even though he was still simply just a regular old member of the pack.

    Hickory had made a few rounds from the water to the garden, his little bowl not able to carry much - plus it was hard to keep a good balance when having three heads and being a dog. The water kept spilling as he walked, barely giving him enough to water but a few plants each time he came back. At one point he had tried a dish per head, but he had gotten confused on his focus and had tripped horribly into the ground, water splashing onto all his faces and getting a nose bleed and sore nose for a week.

    Now he carried the bowl carefully with his middle face, gently putting his paws on the ground with precise footing. As long as no one spoke or spooked him, he would be fine. Hickory brought the bowl past the fence, gently tipping it to the side to let the water dribble out. He had already felt up all the plants, could remember which ones were already watered by someone else. Yes, he was a good little gardener.

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