But I'm Not Supposed To Be a Dog!

- 2 -

Henry's tail drooped. His shoulders drooped. Everything about him drooped with a despair he didn't know how to deal with.

He was also confused. He had so many mixed feelings. Feelings that he didn't think a dog should have. He remembered a time when he wasn't a dog. It was like a vivid dream. He had been a man, walking around on two legs, eating hot dogs and buying socks. Perhaps his former master brought him along while doing such things?

Thinking of hot dogs made his mouth water and he licked his chops. But why did it feel strange to stand on four legs? His own voice sounded foreign to him. Whenever he tried to speak, strange wails and whines came out instead. It distressed him so much that he decided to stay quiet.

Being in this cage was no help. His earliest concrete memory was of wandering around the street, dazed and lost. Next thing he knew, a man with a pole had caught him and stuffed him into a small, dark compartment on a wheeled machine with many other small, dark compartments. And now here he was, in this cage, not knowing what happened, and no idea what to do next.

People came by to look at him, and sometimes he even got to leave his cage, but he always ended up back in here. He wasn't supposed to be a dog. He felt this in his heart. Yet the frequent scratching, the dull, dry food, and the strange, wet nose on his face all reminded him that it was so. The constant discord in his brain left him a lifeless lump on most days.

A woman appeared in front of his cage, and he could barely summon the energy to lift his despondent eyes at her. Then his ears perked. This woman... there was something familiar about her. That mousy brown hair, those sea green eyes.

He knew her.

A strange sensation tingled his backside. What was this? Then he realized it was his tail. Wagging. The heaviness in his heart lifted, and his tail wagged even harder. Who was this woman?

He went up to the chain link and poked his nose through, instinctively trying to catch her scent. When she held her hand close for him to sniff, all doubts disappeared. She was someone very familiar to him. His tongue rolled out and lapped at her hand.

She would save him. She must! He heard himself bark his plea. If she didn't get him out of here, he would die here.

She scratched under his chin and behind his ears. "How did you end up in here, boy?"

He tried to tell her about the awful men with sticks and ropes, but it came out as a bark.

Then she left.

No wait! Where did she go? He barked again, pleading for her to return. But she did not turn around. She kept right on walking and disappeared through a door.

Then he was alone once again.

An unfamiliar whimpering sound came out of his throat. His ears drooped again as the despair returned.

So this was it. He would die here. For no reason.

Aww, vote for poor Henry?