The Dog Whisperer

● Chapter One

If you asked me, which you didn't, necessarily, what my favorite toy to play with as a young girl was, I would not tell you a Barbie or a baby doll, or even Hot Wheels, if that was more your style.

If you asked me what my favorite show was, I would not say Rugrats or Kim Possible.

If you asked me what my favorite game to play was, I would not answer with house.

A game designed to teach girls to stick to their traditional gender role in society through homemaking? Bleh. Not exactly my scene, unless I got to have some super cool job like a secret spy by night or something.

The truth is, most of the time, when my friends would want to play house, I would be the family dog. Sounds almost degrading, but I always chose it out of free will.

No, I never wished to walk on four legs, or have hair everywhere on my body, or even that I would die and be reborn into a canine family. That would just be bizarre.

I got over my fear of animals at age five, and that terror quickly turned into fascination.

My aunt loved to run through all of the animal sounds with me. She would sit me on her lap, test me with a name, and then repeat the noise after I did it if it was correct. Once she did this, she would always ask another question. The questions would vary depending on the animal, but they all followed the same idea.

"Wouldn't it be cool to be able to fly?"

"Sometimes, I want to have a super sense of smell."

"Imagine using your tongue to give yourself a bath!"

These questions led to me actually wondering what it was like to be outside of a human body, perhaps with just three toes or with floppy ears. It wasn't a want, but more of pure curiosity.

So, when the "family" playing house got bored with making meals, cleaning, and caring for the children, I would volunteer to be adopted as a pet. It gave me a chance to do something different.

I consider this now as I sit on a bench, looking over the lot of dogs with me now. There's four of them, two held on leash in my right hand, two held on leash in my left. They're a funny and amusingly varied bunch, especially when you compare huge Rambo to tiny Max. I think I like it more this way though; it makes my job more interesting, at least.

None of my friends have jobs like this. I'm not a waitress, or a shop attendant, or even a babysitter - heaven forbid. Those are all based on people, and I suppose I've just always found animals more intriguing than humans. Not to mention, I'm my own boss.

Which is good, because I don't think my boss would be too thrilled if word somehow got out that Cookie just lifted his leg and is beginning to pee on the foot of the bench.

Some people might panic about this, but honestly, all I'm thinking about is how thankful I am that I don't need to change a diaper now.

Friday night lights are beautiful, in case you haven't seen them firsthand.

There's nothing cooler than being able to look out across a stadium and seeing it illuminated by bright bulbs, the promise and excitement of the impending weekend lingering not too far away.

There's a special incentive for me on Friday nights, too. I get the best view the stadium has to offer, just in front of the bleachers and my school's student section. Cheering on the football team is one of the best parts of the fall.

I mean, it would be, if our football team didn't completely suck ass.

"They're not even paying attention," Faith mumbles in reference to our student section, rolling her eyes. Her voice has a tinge of humor to it. I gaze up and find this to be true. Girls scroll away on their phones or gossip, and the ones that aren't listen to the boys try their newly acquired pick-up lines on them. It's the same thing every week.