The only thing more embarrassing that chasing a dog through the forrest is not catching the dog you're dropping everything to chase through the forrest. So not catching Minor is not an option. She goes after him like he's an arms dealer. Except she has no desire to break his adorable little nose.

The puppy seems fairly content in her lap, too, with her arm wrapped around him in such a way that it lets her also scratch under his wrinkly chin. Her free hand is picking a few leaves from her hair - the ones she can see, at least. "It's my superpower. Puppy wrangling." Minor barks once, as though in response, and Natasha almost laughs, because she couldn't have planned that any better if she'd tried. "Minor is a he, by the way, not an it." Holding a dog directly above your head while you're prone on the ground gives you a very good indicator of its sex, whether you want it or not. "I'm Natasha."