Don't own Wallace and Gromit, etc.
(I'm not familiar with the British accent enough to be able to write using it so this will be a bit out of character.)
He had to admit, it was a cute little thing curled up like that in her arms. Its ears flopped down slightly; little spots speckled the pup grey and white. Even wet, you could tell there was enough fur on the kid to make him a fluff ball when dry. To think, someone had done something like this to a pup. It was pretty much unheard nowadays to hear of this happening - newborns being thrown away like trash into rivers and lakes. It just didn't seem to happen but here was this puppy shivering in the damp air under an awning in the middle of the night, trying to fall asleep in Fluffles's cradled arms. Maybe it was accident. Maybe they didn't know it was in the bag and it fell off a truck or something. Perhaps the kid had gotten lost and, under strange circumstances, had gotten trapped in its previous situation. Maybe, . . .
(I say we take it home; for now, at least.) Fluffles signaled, (there's no sense to leave him here.) Gromit nodded, the kid would just have to stay with them for now, and so they started off to home with package so dear.
(The system won't transcribe my breaklines so I'm adding one)
It was morning in West Wallaby Street as the sun finally peeked above the rooftops. He and Fluffles had hidden the puppy in a makeshift bed, all warm and snugged with food in his belly, in Fluffles's room in the closet till they could figure out how to tell Wallace exactly how they happened upon the baby without a misunderstanding.
(You've taken quite a liking to the kid.)
(Sure, like you haven't thought he was cute.) Fluffles scoffed back, smirking.
(Fine. Anyways, I going to go pick up those things the books said he'll need. See you soon.)
Gromit was walked towards Mr. Grett's store, ironically following the same path as the river they had found the kid by. It would probably be no use to look for traces of who had possibly done it. The river, even here in the elevated length, was swelled to the point of the water level lapping at the top of its banks. The heavy rain most likely washed away any usable footprints or tread marks. The street had been deserted at the time, but what if the kid had been dropped earlier in the day? Surely someone would have heard the kid yelping if they had walked by. The bag was well hidden from view by the bridge and even by the banks of the river. Whoever had done it most likely had deposited the kid there sometime before they had arrived but after most had retired to their homes, which here was about eight at night, to lower the chances of the pup being found. But would they be that stringent in making sure the kid wasn't found? Who would have even done this? He didn't know anyone nearby expecting pups but he didn't know everyone in his neighborhood; he could easily miss someone. Should he even ask around about the pup? He stalled as he thought for a moment. No, there shouldn't be that much of a problem, the kid had been abandoned. Whoever did it probably wouldn't care if the kid was found and wouldn't return to finish whatever intentions they had for him if they ever caught word of him. They probably would try to avoid him as best they could in order to not be connected with the crime, or simply, they just couldn't care less whether the child still hung to a branch or not. Could the kid's family have done this? Had he been kidnapped? Was there someone searching for the kid? Gromit's musing continued as he walked down the river's length to the store.