But I'm Not Supposed To Be a Dog!

- 17 -

Henry was a mess. He had run for hours during the night, his mind a chaotic jumble of sadness, disbelief, pain, and—was that a hot dog stand? He shook his head and stopped by a dumpster, panting heavily. A trickle of water ran along the gutter next to him and he lapped at it, only to spit it out. Nasty. Soapy. He had no idea what to do with himself. He was thirsty and probably lost.

Bert. Henry. Who was he, really? A man impersonating a dog? Or a dog impersonating a man? If someone were to ask him what he was, he would say, "I'm a man trapped in a dog's body." Would he ever be content? He could see no way to ever be human again. His human memories would haunt him, taunt him with all the things he could never do again. Ever. Was this life even worth living?

Exhausted both mentally and physically, he found an upended cardboard box next to the dumpster and lay inside it. He soon fell asleep and dreamed of scooters and accounting ledgers alongside squirrels and bully sticks. And two beautiful women. They spoke to him across a table at a restaurant where he sat in a chair gobbling kibble from a fancy soup dish. Was he a man or a dog? He stood up from the table, shook the women's hands, and then bounded out of the restaurant on all fours. The women chased after him, calling his name as he ran.

"Henry!" The voice was almost angelic.

"Henry!" Another voice called, echoing.

"Henry, where the hell are you?"

Henry opened his eyes. He blinked several times, disoriented, the smell of trash filling his nose. The memory of last night returned, and he sighed heavily.

"Henry!"

He snapped his head up, recognizing the voice.

"I don't think he's here," said another familiar voice.

"I guess it was a longshot," the other one said.

Henry scrambled to his feet and trotted toward the voices, unsure what he would do once he found them. When he got to the street, he saw them. Abby clutched her sweater around her, looking chilled and defeated. Rhonda was next to her, a sad yet determined expression on her face. They froze when they saw him, eyes wide.

"Henry?"

Emotions roiled through him. He was unsure which of them had spoken. Did it matter? Did he want to be with either of these women? They had no idea about his true identity. He approached them, but stopped several feet away.

"I'm so glad you're okay!" Rhonda said, smiling with relief.

"It would have been awful if he'd gotten hit by a delivery truck too." Abby scratched her head. "Or again?"

Rhonda jabbed her with an elbow. She took a few steps toward him and then knelt down to look him levelly in the eyes. He saw guilt and hope swirling in their depths.

"Henry," she said calmly. "Let's have a conversation."

He cocked his head to one side, wondering how the heck they would do that.

"If the answer is yes, take a step forward. If the answer is no, take a step backward. Do you understand?" She looked at him expectantly.

Henry ducked his head in thought. Should he cooperate? What kind of future could they have? Would he be unhappy? The thought of wandering the street was unappealing. The thought of ending up back in the dog prison was even less appealing. Henry took a step forward.

Hope surged in Rhonda's remarkable eyes. "Are you hurt?"

The thought that she cared about him warmed him. He took a step backward.

"Is your name Henry?"

He took a step forward.

"Is your name Bert?"

Henry froze. She knew? How did she know? This changed everything! Or did it? He was still stuck as a dog. He was both elated and apprehensive. What did this mean? What  was to happened next? Was he to go back home with Abby to continue as her pet? He wasn't sure he could go back to that. He looked at the two women, who seemed to be holding their breaths waiting for his answer.

"Is your name Bert?" Rhonda repeated more intensely, her voice slightly tremulous.

Henry made a decision. It was now or never. He would deal with the consequences, come what may. He took a step forward. He was now only a foot away from Rhonda where she crouched.

Abby gasped and Rhonda's breathing became rapid.

"Oh, Bert," Rhonda breathed.

Henry was unsure what to do next.

Abby looked too stunned to move.

"Are you still mad at me?" Rhonda asked uncertainly, shoulders tense.

He stepped back. What happened to him was not her fault.

Rhonda exhaled with relief, appearing to let go of some of her guilt. "Do you forgive me for just wanting to be friends?"

Henry studied Rhonda's uneasy face. The burden she had been carrying all this time was reflected in the tense lines around her mouth and the darkened hue of her blue gaze. Abby faded from view as he contemplated this woman. She was brusque at times in her directness, yet she carried a sensitivity where emotions, such as this guilt, lingered longer than expected. She had broken his heart, it was true. But his anguish at the time seemed melodramatic to him now. They had only been dating a month. Henry suspected it was his wounded male pride that caused his temporary insanity. His time in this dog body seemed to have stunted the sting of rejection.

Yes, he would forgive her. It would be silly not to.

Rhonda's face, which had looked hesitant, registered surprise when he leapt toward her to close the small gap between them. She automatically opened her arms to embrace him, and sighed.

"Wow..." Abby breathed, breaking the quiet. "Henry is Bert! How could this have happened? This dog used to be a man!"

"Shh!" Rhonda turned her head to admonish her friend.

"Oh, right!" Abby whispered. "We don't want people thinking we're crazy." After a moment, Abby's eyes narrowed at Henry and she forgot all about whispering. "You've seen me naked almost every day! Bad dog!"

Rhonda pushed Henry's head back to look at his face. "Did you really?"

Henry barked with glee.

"You dog, you," Rhonda laughed.

Dogs can be peeping toms! Vote for him anyway?