It is a legend told in whispers. The mere mention of the cowl alone is enough to send hardened criminals running. He is the Slobbering Pug.
I do not know where this shirt came from, but it has a hood that swoops over the baby’s face a la Assassin’s Creed. We spent a good portion of the afternoon swooping down from on high and performing “leaps of faith” onto his mother’s back. The giggles more than made up for the disappointment of pre-ordering Brotherhood. I was very close to making up some sort of wrist blade, but I thought that would be too much fodder for future psychiatry appointments.