According to my now-established soul mother Venat, Argos was, to begin with, nothing more than a hound dog, crying all the time. Supposedly of a high class golden breed, it was revealed that Argos was a retriever of diminished stature and renown. In other words, low class.
Venat took the puppy in and groomed him by feeding him a rich convoy of nutrient-rich foods, high in aether and calories and life-changing elements. A concept of a hound dog reborn to become big. And strong. And robust. With deep blue eyes as soulful as Etheirys. That was what the Blue Planet, Earth, was known as in this dimensional plane. And so Argos was given the ability to soar through the heavens and bounce gracefully and grow to be high class, no lie.
One evening, Argos heard the music of a bard from a world unknown. A bard named Ser Elvis Presley of Tupelo, a city state in a realm called America, and a province the locals refer to as Mississippi, but whose corporeal being rests peacefully in Graceland, Memphis, Tennessee. The song was peculiarly called "Hound Dog." As Argos listened to the music that the well-known professor of Elpis known as Emet-Selch played on his handmade orchestrion, the dog was jumping and bouncing here and about, dancing to the music.
With a few barks, Argos pleaded for the professor to play the music again. And again. And again. Eventually, it was confirmed that professor had to avoid playing the song while he was out on the field or within eyeshot of Argos, lest he spin around chasing his tail out of heartfelt boredom.
In my travels to Mare Lamentorum en route to finally ending the saga between Hydaelyn and Zodiark, I met Argos, who became a wonderful dog to ride. When I returned from my trip to Ultima Thule to Old Sharlayan aboard the Ragnarok, barely alive from my skirmish with Zenos (giving him a Akane Tendou style knockout blow to rival that of Saitama or Simon Giha), Argos was there to greet me. And he spoke.
"As I have witnessed a historic ages-old struggle end once and for all," Argos said. "I am here to answer to you, hero. I am Argos and I am yours."
"So you are, my boy," I said. "I shall name you Argos McHoundog. You're friends with the rabbits (the Loporrits) and you are a mount of mine. And today, you are high class, and that's no lie."
"Woof woof!"
And so it was. The 126th mount in my collection was that of Argos McHoundog, blessed with the wishes of Venat and Elvis and Elpis. That is the story of a new best friend now at my command. And what he says is true. He really is high class.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4bqkjLNMuQg
