A sleepy Padfoot was even more troubling to Lily, as he should have turned back by now, no matter what time he was from, there was nothing that should have kept him drawn within the protection of his dog form this long.
She closed her eyes. What if it wasn't him at all? Had she been so eager for it to be him that she'd cuddled some dog who was just a dog, rather than then Padfoot she loved? This dog was older, certainly, but that wasn't indicative of it not being him, and yet – maybe she'd been too hasty.
"Nattering on at you, poor thing, and you likely haven't a clue what I'm saying." She sighed softly, still stroking his muzzle. "I can't just leave you here," she whispered, resting her head on his again. No, if there was a dog who looked like Padfoot, the only place he should be would be with her and James. James would understand and he could explain to Harry what a soft touch bordering on bleeding heart she could be.
"Well, mate," she finally said, sighing again, "would you like to come home with me? Get you something to eat, all perked up and then a nice bed set up for you?" She omitted the word 'bath', as all dogs, regular or Animagus, knew and were heavily opposed to that word.