Queen Jane: I Never Asked for Any of This (with audio)

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I never would have believed it if I hadn't seen her change in front of me the previous weekend. But I couldn't deny the evidence in front of my eyes. That evidence, primarily the young, fluffy yellow lab puppy of about six months sitting obediently on my hallway floor, barked at me as if to reinforce the sheer illogical truth of the entire situation. The cute little girl wore a pink leather collar with a tag that included the name "Queen Jane" on the front and my name and address on the back beneath the "I belong to." The collar and tag had been a surprise. 

But let me back up to the previous weekend in question. 

My ex-girlfriend and still good friend, somehow, Denise had called me desperate to show me something super cool -- her words. When I arrived, she had opened the door, touched her head with a bright pink stone, and suddenly disappeared. Maybe disappeared isn't the best word. I mean, sure, she was gone, but there was still something there where she had been. And that something was a yellow lab puppy who looked up at me with the sweetest, wettest, shiniest eyes I had just about ever seen. 

I slammed the door behind me and dropped to my knees. immediately inspecting the dog for any evidence of how Denise had performed the trick. I had never known her to be remotely interested in magicians or stage magic. When I didn't find anything, I stood up and checked the hallway closet, then the closest bathroom, and finally her bedroom. 

"Okay," I said. "I give up. How'd you do it?"

The only answer was a sharp bark from the dog. 

I returned to the pup and scratched behind her ears. "Yeah, you're sweet..." I took a peek between her hind legs. "... girl, but I need to talk with my friend."

The dog barked again. 

Then it picked up the stone with its mouth. Immediately Denise returned, and the puppy disappeared.

“It's far out, right?” she said. “I was a dog, Rose. A genuine, real dog.”

Long story short, Denise's uncle somebody from somewhere, a relative she hadn't known much about, had died and left her several boxes of crap he had collected from expeditions he had made all over the world searching for arcane, mysterious relics and stuff like that. Well, one of those boxes had contained a stone that Denise learned quite by accident could turn her into a dog. She had discovered all this nearly a year ago, and she had been playing around with the magic rock off and on during that time. 

That's when she told me, not asked me, to drink up and hit me with the punchline. 

She was quitting work and selling her place. But she wasn't really going anywhere. She could afford to. Instead, before trying to get back out into the rat race, she wanted a long, clean break from it all. She wanted to live as a dog, my dog, for a full year. I was the only person she could trust to take care of her during that time, she said. And I made plenty of money so I could afford any additional cost a pet might incur, food and toys and the like without any help from her since she wouldn't be earning any money during her canine break.

I had told her flat out "No." 

She had smiled and said I didn't really have a choice, that regardless, next weekend she was turning in her keys and she'd meet me at my place, transform, and if I didn't let her in, then she'd commit to the new form come hell or high water, and then she'd just run off to live as a stray, and, well, if anything happened to her after that, it would be on my head. 

Reluctantly I agreed and told her my conditions. 

1. I got to name the puppy. 

2. The puppy would go to obedience school.

3. The puppy would be treated as any other animal, not like a human woman just playing pretend. 

4. The puppy would have regular veterinary check-ups and shots. 

If she wasn't happy to accept those demands, then fuck her. She could live on the streets and beg and fight for scraps. But she didn't even bat an eye before accepting. Instead, she hugged me and kissed me deeply and told me thank you more times in a minute than I had thought a human mouth could say the words. 

Before giving her a chance to change her mind, I took the stone from the floor where she had dropped it and put it away in the top of my bedroom closet in my home safe. I had to make sure it was secure. After all, if I lost that or it broke, not only would Denise be stuck as Queen Jane for life, but I'd be stuck having an ex-girlfriend as my pet dog for just as long. 

When I returned, I found her lying on the couch with her head on my end on top of my favorite pillow. 

Time for rule #1, I thought. "Down," I commanded in a not loud but direct tone. She looked up but didn't move. "Bad girl. Down," I said, and she looked over the edge of the couch at the floor then back at me. "Now. No dogs on the furniture," I said. "Remember the third condition. You're not a human playing pretend. You're my dog. Period. Or I can go get the stone and change you back right here and now." 

She whined, but in the end, she climbed down onto the floor and lay down between the couch and the coffee table looking up at me with a sad, hurt look in her big, beautiful puppy-dog eyes. 

I didn't give her a minute. Instead, I showed her the leash I had been holding behind my back and I fastened it to her collar. 

"Come on, Queen Jane," I said, using her new dog name for the first time. "No sense in prolonging this part. It's time for your first check-up." 

I walked her to the foyer and outside to my car. I opened the hatch on the back of my SUV and motioned for her to jump up. She walked to the passenger door instead. 

"Somebody is going to need that obedience training more than I expected," I said with a laugh. "No, sweetie," I added as I opened the door to the travel crate that was Bungie-tied in place against the side of the back. "The only way I can guarantee you'll be safe if to put you in the travel crate, so in you go."

She whined again.

"Hey, you're the one who wanted to be a dog, so you get the full experience, sweet girl." 

She returned to me and then leaped into the back, but didn't go into the crate immediately. She only poked her head in and looked around first. 

"Yeah, I know it's small. It's not a room at the Ritz-Carlton. It's a travel crate. The tighter it is, the more secure and safe you are. Besides, there's plenty of room to lie down and rest until we get to the vet."

She turned her wet eyes to me again, pleading.

"Whose decision was this vacation? Mine or yours?"

She dropped her face and snout and ambled inside. 

I quickly snapped the door closed and let the two catches click into place to lock it.

She turned around and stuck her black nose against the grating. I petted it gently. "Good girl. I'll get you some treats later so I can reward you when you're a good girl." 

I closed the hatch, then added, figuring she couldn't hear me, "And probably some kind of negative reinforcement for when you're not a good girl." 

She whined the entire drive to the vet. Luckily I had chosen the closest one, and it was only about seven miles from the house. When I arrived, the receptionist handed me a few pages of paperwork and I filled them out, having to make up the stuff I didn't know or leave it blank. I mentioned that Queen Jane had been given to me by a friend who had to move -- not completely a lie -- and that my friend had said she was purebred, but didn't have the papers, and I asked if the vet could help me find out and if so, help me get papers indicating her status in case I ever wanted to put her in a dog show or breed her or anything else I could say within Jane's earshot that would hopefully freak her out a little and make her question such a choice later on after this adventure was finally over. I had the choice of waiting or leaving her overnight for all the tests and shots. So I squatted in front of her, fluffed up her neck fur a little, asked for a "kiss for mommy," then unlatched my leash from her collar while the vet tech latched their leash in its place. I watched, smiling, as the tech led Queen Jane into the back to assign her one of the special rooms at the pet hotel.

Then I paid the bill and made arrangements to pick her up after work the following day. I didn't actually work on Sundays, but they didn't need to know that, and I figured a little extra time in puppy boarding might help Jane better appreciate her life in my house -- even if she wasn't allowed on the furniture. 

*

Queen Jane was absolutely thrilled to see me when I arrived a little after 4:30 on Sunday afternoon. She bounded out toward me so fast that she pulled the least almost out of the vet tech's hand, but when she tightened his grip it jerked her back and startled her. I walked to her and knelt in front of her and rubbed her neck scruff and called her a good girl and told her, "Yes, Mommy is happy to see you too, Jane." 

She bounced in front of me yipping almost quietly, and she even licked me several times on my face. I let her -- this time -- but I put that on my mental list of things to train her about, no kisses unless I ask for them. 

We swapped out the leashes again, and I told her "Be quiet" and "Sit," and she did both. Having a dog that understood English like a native speaker sure is a plus, I mused. 

Then I asked the check-out person several questions I wanted to be sure that my new pet heard. 

"Anything I should be worried about?" I asked the vet tech, a cute, dark-haired young woman probably my age. Just my type. s

Nothing. She was in perfect condition for a puppy her age. 

"How old is she exactly?"

They couldn't be exact, but she was somewhere between six and nine months, so if I didn't want puppies, I should probably go ahead and schedule spaying for her. And if I did want puppies, then I should think about registering her as a breeder bitch as soon as the official papers arrived in the mail.

"So she is purebred?"

As pure as they come. In fact, she'd make some beautiful puppies and earn me a nice commission too. 

"Can I arrange that here locally or do I need to get in touch with a program somewhere?"

Oh, they have several they work with and they'd be happy to facilitate an initial meeting, at least as soon as the papers arrive. Those papers are the key to everything. 

"And if I decide to have her spayed instead?"

Queen Jane whined, and I snapped my fingers to quiet her again. She complied. 

Easily done. They could actually schedule it today and I could bring her back as early as Friday since they had an opening.

One last thing. "I'm looking to enroll her in obedience training. Do you offer that or can you recommend someone?"

Absolutely. They have a person they subcontract out for that. She's amazing, and the dogs seem to love her too. She's great too, combining regular command training with new conditioning methods that trigger neurological connections to create a more natural obedience rather than just a fear-based one or a reward-based one. Much more effective since it helps rewire the dog's brain for obedience as an instinct.

"Sounds good. Anything I can use at home until then?"

Well, there as shock collars or the old reliable rolled-up newspaper, but they don't really like those negative, punitive methods as much as the trainer's more organic approach.

In the end, I said thanks, took a flyer about the training, the breeding, and one about spaying, and I told Queen Jane to "Come on, girl," and tugged at the leash. She followed, but she never once took her focus off the brochures I was holding onto. 

I didn't say anything until after we returned home, and that only after stopping for a burger and some fries. I even got her some fries but made her wait until we got home to give them to her. I fed them to her one at a time, making her sit and beg for each, just to reinforce her new position as my pet. 

I couldn't deny that having authority and power over my ex who had so unceremoniously dumped me for a more trendy party girl could be more than a little intoxicating. Even though we had made up and were friends again, there was still the sting of her rejection, and it did feel like karma that I held her leash, both figuratively and literally. 

So I kept making her do the trick for her french fries, which it was clear she loved after only having dog food of some sort, probably dry kibble, overnight at the vet's boarding area. When she finished, I crumbled the package and tossed it in the trash can in the kitchen. 

"That's all for now, sweet girl," I said. "Can't have you get fat, can we?"

I patted her head, and she looked at me as if she were trying to tell me to stop patronizing her, but with her big puppy dog eyes, all she could do was look cute and I just wanted to scruff up her ears and neck some more.

So I did. 

She leaned into the attention in spite of herself. I wondered if maybe that was some of the neurological connections stuff that the vet tech had been talking about. Was it a choice that Denise was responding to my affection or was it something more like an instinct of Queen Jane to give in to that kind of attention, something that went back through doggy genetics for thousands of years?

"Good girl," I couldn't help but say. May as a human I was conditioned to praise an obedient pet just like she was conditioned to respond to a loving owner. Something to keep trying, I figured. 

When she realized she was returning the affection, she caught herself and backed away, then she barked once sharply and walked to point her nose at the brochures beside me. 

"Oh," I said, more than a little sing-song, "Curious about those, huh?"

Another sharp bark. 

"I'll just bet you are." 

I opened the brochure about spaying first so that she could see it clearly. "What do you say, girl? Want to make sure that you can't get pregnant if some male dog finds you outside and tries to make puppies with my pretty little puppy?"

She jumped on her forelegs and barked loudly. 

"Oh, that got you excited huh? But I wonder..." I let the words hang in the air for a few moments to gauge Jane's reaction. "...Are you more excited about getting your little baby factory shut down or getting a chance to make a litter with some good-looking male Lab."

She barked several more times and even shook her fluffy doggy head. 

"You're still not making sense, girl. I gave you two choices and you just shook her head. How am I supposed to know what you want?" I laughed and patted her head again. "Not that it matters. Remember my conditions, after all. You're the pet, and I'm the owner. It's my decision if you need to be spayed to protect you from your own instincts or even if I think you should be left vulnerable to your own heat cycles. I mean, it will be a year, so you can plan on at least two of those. Besides, I wonder if I do get you spayed, what effect might that have for when you change back, or would you even be able to with that kind of alteration to your body?"

I put the brochure for spaying down beside me again and instead picked up the one for the breeding program. 

"And, if getting humped is going to happen anyway, wouldn't it be much safer to let you mate in a controlled setting rather than just getting raped by some random mutt who digs a hole under the backyard fence? In that case, maybe this breeding service is the way to go. That way, not only do we not make permanent changes to your body, but you also get to experience all of this dog life you signed up for. What do you say, girl?"

At this, she barked deep and loudly for about half a minute. 

"Okay, okay," I said with a grin. "We can shelve all that for now and decide all that later. We can play it by ear -- unless we wait too long, that is. Wait too long and the decision might be made for us if a stray male gets a hold of you."

That statement kicked off another round of barking and bouncing, and I waited until she relaxed again. She gazed intently up at me and barked a single deep woof, as if wanting me to be serious and stop playing around. Of course, I wasn't playing around, even if she didn't realize that. After all, I hadn't asked for any of this, and if it fell to me to protect Denise from Queen Jane's biology, then, well, I would have to be the adult in the room as it were. 

"So let's just put all that aside for now, girl, and we'll discuss the one I really feel we need to get moving on." I opened the brochure for the training. "I think this sounds good. And if you remember, training for one of the stipulations for agreeing to take care of you. I want to be sure you are a good girl and know how to behave."

I flipped the brochure over and looked over the list of topics covered.

"Ah," I said. "This is perfect. It says here it includes all the basics, like learning not to pee and poop in the house, basic commands like sit, stay, and heel, and even the fundamentals of crate training and why it's important for dogs whose owners are gone for large portions of the day."

She jerked her snout toward me when I mentioned crate training. 

"That sounds like us, doesn't it? With me at work for at least eight hours everyday, I can't have you getting restless here and succumbing to a puppy's predisposition to destroy everything in my house. It also says it's better for your state of mind and stability and for maintaining a sense of calmness for your young and young adult dog."

I flipped the brochure over so she could see it and pointed to the photo of a black dog in a metal frame crate. The dog was lying down on the floor with his head between a bowl of water and a bowl of kibble. He looked to be resting peacefully.

"See there. That doesn't look so bad. He looks happy, doesn't he?"

Another sharp bark.

I took back the brochure and continued reading. "Ooh, it says here there's a second, more advanced class for special commands and for tricks. That could be fun, huh? I could take you to the park and you could show off to all the children. Or maybe even use you as one of those help dogs in hospitals and schools to help relax children with extreme illnesses or special needs. You'd like that, right?"

She didn't make a sound. But something in her eyes looked utterly defeated, as if she had given up trying to get me to understand what she was trying to tell me, as if I didn't just damn well plan on doing what I damn well pleased when it came to training my pet dog. 

I didn't even bring up the conditioning science behind it. I wanted to see how well that worked before I was willing to believe that myself. 

While she was watching me, I picked up my cell phone and dialed the number to register for the obedience training. I answered a few questions and made sure I had a place for both Queen Jane and me in the next session, which began in two weeks. 

"Well, that's that," I said as I put my phone on the end table and grabbed the remote to flip on the TV. "Oh," I added, reaching again for my phone. "I almost forgot." 

She looked at me inquisitively, but I kept the secret to myself as I surfed through Amazon and ordered a medium-large, metal dog crate for my special girl. 

*

After the crate arrived on Monday, it was waiting for me, and without letting Jane see it, I took the box out to the garage and put it together. She knew nothing about it until the following morning when I called her out with me after I was dressed for work, and I opened the door. 

"In, girl," I called, but she didn't obey. Instead, she turned to go back to the door that led inside, but she found that I had closed it behind me, trapping her in the garage. "In," I said more forcefully. "Don't be a bad girl, Queen Jane. Mommy doesn't have time for this. I have to get to work."

Still no movement on her part. 

"Am I going to have to get a newspaper or magazine and roll it up? I really don't want to have to start having to punish you to make you act like a good girl."

She lay down on the concrete floor, staring at me, her decision obviously made. 

"Okay, I was hoping not to have to do this, but if you insist."

I dug into my purse and pulled out a second collar for her. I walked to her and put it around her neck. No doubt she was expecting me to try to drag her into the cage with the leash, but this collar had a little extra surprise. 

Once it was around her neck and fastened, I stood up and grabbed the control fob for it out of my purse as well. One quick push on the red button and Jane yelped and jumped up to her feet. 

"Yes, Jane," I said. "That's a shock collar. I wasn't going to use it, but I'm glad now that I ordered it for you after all. Now, are you going to get into your crate like a good girl, or do I have to give you another shock to convince you?"

She stood shakily but resolutely, eyes locked on mine, challenging me to just do it again. So I did. Another yelp escaped her mouth. 

"I can do this all day, you bad dog," I said. "Can you put up with it that long?"

One more sting of the collar and she took two faltering steps toward the cage. 

"That's better," I said. "All the way in, sweetie." 

I threatened to push the button again, and she went all the way in. I locked the door behind her and waited to see if she had room to turn around and get to her bowls. She did. So I turned on the work light on the garage opener and then closed the door behind when as I went back inside, leaving her to her long first day of crate training. 

That's how each morning went between Tuesday and Friday, the only change being the lessening number of shocks she needed each morning to do what she was told. Not that she had grown to like being in the crate. But while the mornings might have been a battle, the afternoons when I returned home were a pure delight. 

She was always so cute, standing up in the crate, so happy to see me, so happy for me to let her out, so ready to go into the backyard to relieve herself. There was no embarrassment from Wednesday on. Holding it in all day -- after me chastising her for losing control and pooping in the cage when I got home on Tuesday -- made her more than willing to do as I commanded in order to get outside quickly to reduce that stress on her body. It had only taken one time of correcting her, simply pushing her face into the pile of crap and hitting with a single shot, then saying firmly, "No! Bad girl!" After that, she held it all in until I got home. 

Each time I let her out she would lick my hand, as I had told her that I wouldn't open the door until mommy got some love, and then wait at the door, bouncing up on her forelegs and barking excitedly.

Then she would run to the back door and wait for me to leash her and lead her into the yard to do her business. 

Afterward, I would always make her stay out along with me as I sat on the edge of the deck, and run around to get out all the pent-up energy she must have had from being couped up all day. Without any prompting at all, it was amazing to me how quickly she had started enjoying pure dog activities like running zoomies or chasing her tail. Occasionally she'd notice me watching her and smiling, and she would get self-conscience for a moment and just lie down on the grass or walk over to me for pats and scritch-scratches. But usually, in a few minutes, she'd be back in the yard letting off steam and enjoying herself. 

That gave me an idea, so today I left her doing her thing, and I got up and went back inside alone. I closed the sliding glass door behind him and left her playing in the yard while I went in and watched TV and drank a glass of wine. 

She played for another fifteen minutes roughly before she even noticed I was no longer outside with her. Then she looked around the yard for me, whined for a moment at the fence, then finally walked back onto the deck and peeked inside the glass door, craning her neck to see the living room where I sat on the loveseat. 

I waved at her and resumed watching some cooking show on the BBC. 

She stood at the door for several minutes, waiting and whining for me to let her in, but I didn't get up. Eventually, she went back to the yard and lay down under a shade tree. When the show ended, I got up and went to the door, opened it, and called for her to come in. She stood up and bounded to me and then inside as if she feared I might never let her be an inside dog again. 

"Upstairs," I said. "Bath time. Can't have my girl smelling like dirt, can I? Not my pretty girl." I scruffed her neck as she walked beside me up the stairs. 

* 

On Saturday morning, I motioned for her to follow me to the crate again, and she looked hurt, as if she had expected a break from that device on the weekends. 

"Don't be like that, baby girl," I said. "Even if I'm home, you're still learning and I don't want to interrupt your training. I want you to be the best puppy anybody could own, after all." 

I opened the door to the crate and she climbed inside without a fuss. She was learning, after all. 

"Besides, I need to get a shower and go run some errands today, so I won't be home to play with you and I don't want you to get restless. I'll be back before too long though."

While I was out, I even picked her up some chew toys and treats and a few tennis balls to play fetch with. When I returned, after letting her out and giving her a few minutes to herself outside, I went back out and joined her, bringing the balls. 

I throw them and let them bounce around the yard, against one fence wall and then the other. She chased them like it was the most fun she had ever had. That night she fell asleep early at the foot of the couch with her head on my bedroom slippers. I just slipped my feet out of them and slept on the couch, listening to her snore and grunt in her sleep, every now and then shaking her legs while she dreamed, I guessed, about chasing balls around the yard. 

For the next week, we settled into a routine. It was almost funny how quickly Queen Jane's little doggy brain could adjust to changes, even after fighting me on them at first. Each day only seemed to reinforce the new pattern of life, of behavior, of the natural rhythm she followed now that she no longer needed a grown-up human schedule to adhere to. 

Each day she became more and more excited to see me, as if my ownership of her and her dependence on me was being imprinted deeper than just active thoughts, something more akin to... well, I wasn't sure what to call it. Not yet. 

And her routine was followed each day, whether I was home or not. Into the crate by 8:00 A.M. Out at 5:30 P.M. (though I would let her out at noon on weekends). Relieve herself and play in the yard, both with me and by herself. Fresh kibble and water as needed, and some minor table scraps while I ate dinner around 7:30 P.M. Then she'd snuggle at my feet while I watched TV before bed. After that, she'd follow me upstairs and sleep on her dog bed in the corner while I snuggled into my California king. 

By Tuesday of the second week, she had stopped complaining about the crate and went in willingly. It was the same day that she stopped looking for me in the yard after I went back inside, and she either rested in the shade or kept playing until I called her. 

But that was also the day I caught her chasing a squirrel in the yard. At first, I figured she was just having fun, but after a few minutes, I saw her quiet again, turned away from me. I opened the door to call her in, but she didn't respond, so I walked out onto the deck and called again, figuring she might have fallen asleep after so much effort. She still didn't respond except to wag her tail. I called her one last time. That time she finally turned around and I saw that her mouth was red. 

I took off like a bat out of hell thinking the squirrel had slashed her, and I felt a thousand tons of guilt dump onto me for keeping her outside so long.

But when I got to her I saw the squirrel in bloody parts in the grass. She was still chewing. 

"Holy shit!" I cried. "You fucking caught the squirrel. You fucking ate the damn thing. What's wrong with you?"

At my words, she tucked her tail between her legs, and she lowered her snout toward the ground. I sighed, shook my head, and said, "Fine, if you want squirrel for dinner, so be it. You stay out here until you're done, and I'll get you later." 

I stormed off back to the house. 

"Maybe," I added.

In the end, I was still so angry with her, Denise more than Jane, I guessed, that after putting out a fresh bowl of kibble and a large plastic serving bowl of water, I let her spend the night outside. 

Luckily for her, it didn't rain. 

The next morning she was waiting by the door, face between the bowls on the deck. She looked up at me sadly with big wet eyes, and I couldn't stay mad at her. I opened the door and ushered her in. 

"Straight upstairs, girl. You need a bath. You stink."

Still, I rubbed her head and between her ears to let her know I wasn't angry anymore. I invited her into the oversized walk-in shower with me, and took special care to wash her as thoroughly as possible... twice. It took that much scrubbing to get all the dirt and blood off her face. 

"No more squirrels," I said. "Hell, I can't believe you did that." 

As I spoke, she whined and lowered her head. 

"Were you that hungry? Did I not leave you enough kibble during the day?"

She whined a little more and shook her head. 

"What then?" I asked. "Prefer live rodent to the kibble? Help me out here?"

She actually shook her head then. 

"Oh..." I said. "Oh fuck. You need better food that isn't kibble?"

She barked loudly. 

"Okay," I said. "Let's get a system going for when we're alone. Two barks for yes, and three barks for no."

She barked twice. 

"Now tell me no." 

"Three barks." 

"Is your name Queen Jane?"

Two more barks, quieter. 

"Okay, I think we've got that down. Now, let's figure out why you did that?" I took a moment to figure out how to start with the best yes or no questions for my special pooch. "Were you hungry?"

Two barks. 

"Okay. Did I not leave you enough food during the day?"

She looked up like she wasn't sure how to respond.

"Okay, my bad. Let me rephrase that. Was there enough food while I was gone?"

Two barks.

"Is the food good enough? Does it fill you up?"

Three barks.

"Ah," I said with a long intake of breath. 

"Do you need a different kind of food then?"

Two barks.

"I'm not cooking steak for you. You're a dog." I grinned. "Your choice, remember? You roped me into this, so you live with the consequences, sweetie."

One loud bark.

"Yeah, yeah. Tough tittie, bitch." I laughed as I said it so you'd know I was just playing. I reached down to pat her head. 

One more, but softer, bark. 

"Maybe I should get your more soft food, stuff that had more meat in it. After all, dogs are carnivores."

Two more barks. 

"Canned?"

She looked down at the floor. 

"Yeah, it looks gross, but it'll be better for you than just the dry stuff."

No response. 

"You're not getting fresh meat all the time. We both have to live off my budget, you silly little dog."

One more soft bark. I imagined she must be trying to joke along with me but lacked the proper organs for communicating her tone. 

"Okay, we'll compromise. I'll get you canned, one per day, half in the morning, half at night, and I'll leave kibble for munching when you get snacky while I'm gone. And I promise not to use the store brand, but not the expensive crap either."

Two reluctant barks, more grunts than actual barks.

"And you promise not to eat any more wild animals, please."

Two more barks. 

"Besides, as quickly as it seems you get used to things, you'll be not only tolerating but looking forward to the canned food in no time."

She whined softly. 

"I know, I know. Poor little doggie has to get by with dog food. What a sad state of affairs for such a spoiled puppy."

She looked up at me a whined again. 

After she was dry and I was dressed, we both went back downstairs. again. She stopped when I started for the garage. 

"Yes, don't you want me to get your canned food, Jane?"

Her head drooped, and she followed me. 

"Good girl," I said and rubbed her back. 

Then I put her back in the crate with fresh water and some kibble, and I left the house. 

*

Thursday morning I found her cowering in the corner of my bathroom. She was looking up at me with frightened eyes, shaking. 

"What's wrong?" I all but shrieked. "Calm down, damn it." 

I reached for her, and she backed further away into the corner as if she expected me to punish her. 

"Hey, Jane, what's wrong?"

No backs but several weak grumping noises, not quite grunts. 

"I can't help you if you don't help me."

Finally, I reached her head, kneeling in front of her and loving on her with gentle kisses on her snout and ears and lots of scratches and scritches under her neck and chin. 

"It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you. Obviously, something's wrong. What is it?"

It took another minute of two of coaxing, but eventually, she led me into the hallway where a messing, wet puddle of diarrhea lay on the carpet about two feet away from a greenish-yellow puddle of vomit.

"Oh shit!" I exclaimed. "Are you okay, sweetie? No, no. Come here. It's okay. You couldn't help it." I held her head in a close hug next to my chest. "Shit. Shit. Shit. What do I do?" 

I took a deep breath to get my thoughts together. 

"Okay, Jane, you go downstairs to the kitchen. That way if it happens again, it won't be on the carpet. I'll clean up the mess up here, and when I'm done, I'll call out of work and take you to the vet to see what's wrong."

She grunted twice, and I assumed she didn't have the energy or will to bark after the way her morning had gone.

*

"Worms," Doctor Fuller told me after he had given Queen Jane a thorough inspection. "It's just worms. It's annoying but not at all rare. It's actually more common than we would hope." He never stopped smiling or rubbing Jane's ears. "I don't suppose she's been eating any feces, has she?"

I tried not to laugh as Janed barked three times, staring at me.

"Not that I'm aware. But she did catch and eat a squirrel two days ago."

He nodded. "Ah. That makes sense."

"That makes sense?" I asked. 

He grinned. "Absolutely. Rodents aren't particularly discriminating when it comes to their eating habits, so chances are the squirrel had either eaten feces or eaten something that had, so that got passed on to poor Queen Jane here."

"Oh," I said, still lost. 

"Regardless, it's easily fixed. I'll give her a shot to get her started, then you give her one pill a day for the next week, and they should clear right up. I'm afraid you'll have to keep her away from other dogs for about a week though."

"Oh. Okay. I'll need to reschedule her training then."

"Probably best," he said. "Oh, if she doesn't take the pill on her own, you can always wrap it in a piece of cheese or hide it in canned food. After all, if this pretty girl is like most dogs, she thinks with her stomach more than her brain." 

"Probably not the brightest pup in town," I said, giving her a knowing grin. 

She woofed gently. 

"I'll have Tanny get the pills ready for you while you check out. Remember, one per day, and if you have any questions, don't hesitate to call."

"Thanks, Doctor Fuller."

"Please, it's Joe. We're all friends here."

"How 'bout Doctor Joe then?"

"If you have to." He laughed. 

I laughed too. 

Queen Jane barked once, then whined and vomited all over the metal examination table. 

"Aw," he said. "Poor baby." 

"Shit," I said. 

Jane turned away from the mess and looked at the wall, thoroughly embarrassed unless I missed my guess. 

*

By the weekend, Jane was feeling better, not quite her old (well, old new) self, but good enough to be happy to see me and energetic enough to play. I kept her inside for playtime though as an extra precaution. However, she would often go to the door and look through the glass as if she wanted to play outside, as if her routine had been upended and she wanted it back. 

Habits turned into patterns quickly for her in her new four-legged world.

I filed that one away with the other bits in order to better understand the way her doggie brain and doggie instincts controlled and ordered her world post-transformation. The more I comprehended those changes and factors, the better I could take care of her and the better I could take care of myself without having to care for her wearing me out and controlling my patterns. After all, I still had a life of my own to live. And I wouldn't mind dating again. 

As I thought it, I had a momentary daydream image of me and the co-worker I had a sort of crush on sitting together on my couch with Jane snuggled between us -- until I remembered that I didn't allow her on the furniture -- and then the image dissipated. 

Not a bad image though. Nice. Relaxing. Familial. 

I shook the thought away. I didn't ask for any of this, I reminded myself. It was forced on me. 

"No, Jane," I told her with kind strictness. "No outside until your all better." 

I took her tennis ball from the floor and tossed it into the foyer. 

"Fetch," I said. 

And off she skittered on the hardwood floor toward the sound of the ball bouncing off the foyer walls. In a moment she returned and brought the ball to me and dropped it at my feet. 

"Oh, so doggie wants to play fetch, huh?"

Two barks. 

I laughed softly. 

"I guess my Jane doesn't just look like a dog. She really is a dog now."

I tossed the ball, this time into the kitchen. Off she went, sliding on click-clacking nails as she did. 

I kept talking, having my fun with her. "She chases squirrels. She hunts wild animals. She eats mushy, gross canned dog food." 

She returned and dropped the ball at my feet again. It bounced and rolled out of reach, so she picked it up again and this time dropped it directly into my hand. 

"And I guess most like just another dog, she even gets worms. Ooh. I mean, how gross is that, my pretty girl? All those yucky little worms in your poop."

I rubbed her neck with my free hand, then tossed the ball into the kitchen again, loving the sound as she struggled for balance on the tiles. She was either ignoring my jokes at her expense or having too much fun chasing the ball to care. 

I tossed the ball for her several more times, then said, "No more. Go play by yourself. Mommy's tired."

She picked up the ball and nosed my hand. 

"Jane, I said no."

She poked her nose against the back of my hand a second time. 

"I said no, and I meant it. I'm tired. Go play by yourself."

She went to the door and barked one, bouncing as she did. 

"No outside, girl. Not until you're better. Play inside."

This time, she trotted back to me and lay her head on my lap, looking up in a way that made it look like her eyes fully filled the socket with black and brown. 

"Sorry, girl," I said, moving my legs from under her to pull them onto the sofa. I stretched out and lay down with my head on a throw pillow. "Now, go play or take a nap. But let mommy rest. I'm tired."

But she shoved her front paws onto the couch beside me and leaned it to lick my face. Then she woofed several times, low and needy. 

I sat up. "Okay. Come on," I said. 

She fell in line behind me but stopped when she saw me heading toward the garage.

"It's your choice, sweetie. Either play by yourself, go rest, or hang out in the crate. But I need to take a nap, and I don't feel like playing anymore. I've been taking care of you so much that it's worn me out." I put my hand on the doorknob for the garage door. "Your choice. You want the crate?"

Three very deliberate barks. 

"Fine." 

I left the door and returned to the living room and lay down again. This time, Jane made a few circles and settled down in a lump of fur between the couch and the coffee table, gnawing on the tennis ball. She was still slopping up the floor and the ball with drool when I dozed off. 

I wasn't sure how long I had been asleep but the phone jerked me out of a rather nice dream about a picnic. I was eating potato salad and Jane was running back and forth on the grass with a group of dogs, and they were all competing to catch a Frisbee thrown by a cute redhead I only knew from the coffee shop I usually stopped in during lunch on workdays. Apparently, I needed to start dating more than I realized. 

"Hello," I said, struggling to hold on to my phone since my fingers had fallen asleep as I lay on my palm. 

"Hi, this is Kaitlyn from Heartville Veterinary Hospital. Is this Rosalie?

“It's just Rose, but yeah, that's me.”

“Cool. sI just want to check up on Queen Jane and see how she's doing?"

"Oh. Thanks for calling. She's actually much better. Her... ah... movements are back to normal and no more throwing up in two days."

"No sign of worms in her feces?"

"Not anymore."

"Good, good. When was the last time you saw evidence of any in her waste?"

"Thursday morning, I think."

"Okay. Good."

I heard Jane wriggle beside the couch. Her leg lifted and then dropped again. I smiled. 

"Yeah, she's feeling so much better. Thank you guys so much."

"You haven't had her long, have you?"

"Just a few weeks."

"Cool. You two got attached quickly."

"I guess." I didn't dare mention that I'd known Denise for almost ten years and that she had recently turned into my pet golden lab. Yeah, that would lump me in as a grade-A crazy. "She's hard not to love," I added. 

"Hey, listen. When she's cleared, we're hosting a day at the park for our clients. We do hot dogs and hamburgers and some vegan too, so why don't you and Queen Jane come join us on the 13th?"

"Sounds good. We might just do that." 

"Good. Give that sweet girl some love for me," Kaitlyn said, then added "Goodbye," and hung up. 

I stared at the phone groggily as if I expected it to do something else. It didn't. 

*

After Jane's recovery, she and I settled into a routine again. Less than a month later, just as I had predicted, she got over her distaste for the wet, lumpy canned dog food and quickly preferred it over the dry kibble. Table scraps, however, remained her favorite. With more meat in her diet, she no longer hunted the squirrels in the yard, but she did still enjoy chasing them, and since they didn't understand the difference between being prey and being a playmate, they just ran for their lives and scampered into the trees where Jane couldn't reach them.

Watching her play and eat and rest and even wait patiently in the crate became so much a part of who she was that I often found myself not even thinking about her, at least not in any special way. She was just my dog. I fed her and bathed her and played with her. Sometimes I cuddled with her and I loved on her and I baby-talked to her, but I would do that with any dog, so none of that made Queen Jane special, at least no more special than the Cocker Spaniel I had owned when I was thirteen or the orange tabby cat I had taken care of after my grandmother's death. 

They were pets. Special pets but nothing more. 

It was only when I caught myself letting her become just a pet in my mind that I had to remind myself she was more than that. She was a human brain, a human soul, driving that cute, furry body. She still had her own will and all that goes with it. She was my ex-girlfriend and my current friend. 

But most of the time it was difficult to see Denise inside all of the habits and routines and instincts that Jane had become. 

I was thinking about that very thing when I got a phone call I never expected.

"Hello," I said. 

"Hi. Is this Russlyn Bayler?"

"Yes, it is. Who's speaking?"

"Oh, you don't know me. My name is Howard Yeomans. I got your name from the Heartville Vet."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, they said you had the prettiest little golden Labrador Retriever bitch they'd ever seen. Real sweet too."

"Ah. Queen Jane. Yes."

"Great name," he said. "Dylan fan?"

"Among others," I responded. 

"Anyway," he said after a few quiet seconds. "I wondered if you might want to sell her. The vet said she had all her papers coming, and that he highly recommended her for breeding."

"I'm listening"

I really wasn't, but it never hurt to be polite. 

"Anyway, I'm willing to offer you two grand for her clear cash on the doc's recommendation."

"Two grand?"

"Yeah. I usually don't offer more than fifteen hundred, but the doc said this one is worth it."

Well, I thought, it must be related to the magic in the rock. 

"That's a lot of money, Mr. Yeomans," I said. "But Jane's not for sale."

He cleared his throat. "I can go as high as twenty-two fifty, but that's it."

"Like I said, Mr. Yeoman's, that's an awful lot of money, and I can always use extra cash, but she's not for sale. We've got a sort of bond, Jane and me." 

I could almost hear him nodding on his end of the line. 

At this point, Jane looked up at me from her spot on the floor, eyes locked. Apparently the words "not for sale" had gotten her attention and brought out a little reminder that maybe she wasn't just a pet after all. 

"I hear you, but how 'bout this instead? I prefer to own her outright, but maybe I could pay you for first breeding rights, that way my boys get to her before anybody else's studs dogs. Then we split the profits off the litter right down the middle -- after any expenses on my end of course. That sound okay?"

"And what kind of money are we looking at for first breeding rights?"

"Most people wouldn't pay you more than five hundred for 'em," he said. "But I ain't most people. If she's as good as the doc says, I'll give you fifteen hundred and you go ahead and let me sign up for her second litter too before you put her on the open market." 

The words "open market" cracked me up. But the more I thought about it, there wasn't any better way to describe it. We were talking about selling Jane's first time to a man who would mate her with his male dogs and then profit off the puppies she carried. We, I corrected myself, would profit. Not just he. 

"Go play, girl," I said, and I tossed her tennis ball into the foyer. Without thinking she raced after it, and only when she returned with it did she look at me with an expression I could only assume meant "Stop doing that to me. I want to pay attention, not chase the ball."

I tossed it again, and off she went, only to catch herself at the open doorway between the living room and the foyer. She plopped down on the floor and stared at me. 

"Can you hang on a moment, please, Mr. Yeomans?" 

"Sure."

I set down my phone and went to the kitchen. I grabbed a can of wet food and stuck it against the electric can opener. Upon hearing the sound, Jane's ears perked up. When she could smell the mushy meat, her nose did the same. I put her bowl on top of the counter, and she bounced and barked at me, bumping into my legs and the drawers under the counter as she begged. Then I put the bowl on the floor and returned to the living room, being sure to close the hideaway kitchen door behind me.

No need to freak her out with this conversation, I thought. 

"Sorry about that," I said as I sat down again and put the phone to my ear. "Somebody was hungry."

"It happens. So?"

"Let me get this straight. You're willing to pay me fifteen hundred dollars just to breed your boys with my female Lab? And that will include two litters before I am allowed to breed her with anyone else's dogs? So that comes to seven hundred and fifty bucks per breeding. And then, minus your expenses, we'll still split what we make off the puppies right down the middle?" I let it hang in the air for a bit. "And with a little of say five or six puppies, what do you expect to make?"

"Depends on whether they're girls or boys, but about fifteen hundred a pop."

I started doing math in my head, for hypotheticals of course. I had no plans to pimp out Jane for profit, no matter how I might tease her about that very thing. That's nine thousand for all six."

"Roughly. Remember it varies between the sex." 

"Got it. But roughly forty-five hundred apiece."

"Min--"

"Minus expenses, yes." 

"And I get the fifteen hundred upfront?"

"Yep. But I'd like to option for the third litter too, before any other comers." He laughed. "No pun intended."

"Another seven hundred fifty for that?" 

I was really enjoying baiting him along. 

"Probably less that time. Not as special anymore after that first and second litter."

"I see."

"Well?"

"Can I sleep on it?"

Jane whined through the kitchen door. Damn. I hadn't taken her canine hearing into account. She barked three times loudly, then three times more.

"Sure. I here your pup asking for attention. You take care of her. You want me to call back tomorrow or in a few days?"

"Can I get your info and call you back instead?"

He reluctantly gave me the info, and I got the feeling that he was used to being the person controlling the transaction, especially one being made with a woman, a real Type-A, in this case, A for asshole. I hung up and then opened the door for my sweet, excited girl. 

"Well, how would my baby girl want a very special date?" I asked as I stroked her ears. 

She jumped and barked three times. 

"No?" I said with put-on hurt. Do you want mommy to be dirt poor. Don't you want to help by earning your keep? I mean, you can't do much, but it's only natural that a beautiful bitch" -- she barked quickly and sharply at the word -- "like you could help out by carrying and raising cute little babies. Don't you think?"

Three more barks. 

I laughed. "If only I had some way to understand dog language," I said, still laughing. "Then I might be able to tell if you're excited about making some boyfriends." 

I rolled over onto my back laughing and Jane danced around me, barking and woofing until I started rubbing her again and rolled her into the floor with me.

Then I led her to the foyers and we played fetch as I threw the ball into every open area available until she was panting and sprawled out all akimbo near the front door. 

The next morning I awoke to a disaster. Not only was their no hot water, but the water heater itself had a huge hole in the top that looked like a bomb had gone off. Repairing it was out of the question. I was just lucky, the tech had said, that the leak had happened up high so it didn't fully floor the garage. Right, I thought, so damn lucky.

That same afternoon, there was a loud clunk and my air conditioning shut down. According to my second technician of the day, it needed to be replaced too. 

That put the new HVAC unit at twenty-five hundred and the new hot water heater at a little over a grand, easily close to four thousand after tax, delivery, and installation. 

Shit. 

"What are we going to do, girl?" I said as I sat on the floor reviewing my bank statement. "I've got a thousand in the emergency fund and another eight hundred to spare after the bills this month, but even if I pull the fifteen hundred I managed to scrape into savings after the cruise this past Summer, that still leaves me almost two gand down. I would have more, but you're a cost I didn't take into my accounting when I developed my budget, Jane, and what with making sure you get all your shots, and that medicine wasn't cheap, and then there's buying better food for you and the treats, this month is tight." I stroked her ears, then leaned in and kissed her forehead. "I'm sorry to burden you with this. I'll figure out something, even if we have to just use the ceiling fans and take cold showers until next month." I check the calendar on my phone. "That's only two and a half weeks away. We can deal with that, right?"

Three days later, I was fed up with dealing with that. I was hot, sweaty, miserable, and tired of freezing my ass off each time I got in the fucking shower. And the worse I felt, the more I resented Jane's relative comfort while I was in misery. 

I caught myself thinking more than once, this is your fault, dog. You're costing me a bloody fortune and if I didn't have to pay for you, then I would have had plenty to cover these repairs. 

Still, I held it together, kind of, and continued to take care of Jane without getting too angry at her. I mean, I knew it wasn't really her fault. She hadn't sabotaged the HVAC and the water heater. It was just a coincidence. Still, it was her fault I was living poorer than I had before. After all, she had just dumped this whole dog thing on to me and then emotionally blackmailed me into taking care of her without providing a single cent to help out with the additional expenses. 

I never asked for any of this, I reminded myself. It was forced on me. 

Another day went by, and I knew I had to call Howard Yeomans back soon to break the news to him that I wasn't going to take his offer, and that it was a moot point because Jane hadn't shown into indication of going into heat yet. 

So I did. 

He took the news well but did make a counteroffer. He'd increase the upfront money to twenty-three grand if we split the profits at a seventy-thirty rate instead, me getting the thirty of course, and he would have reservations for the first three breedings. I asked him for another day to think about it, knowing that as bad as things were, I just couldn't do that to poor Jane. 

So, of course, by the following evening when I got home to my sauna of a house and ran a cold bath to soak my feet in while I bathed off with a sponge, Jane came in dragging her ass across the bathroom tiles. 

"Stop that," I yelled, more than a little agitated at the temperature, and she left the bathroom, but I could hear her continuing to rub her butt against the bedroom carpet. "Stop it, Jane!" I yelled again, and I heard her run out of my room. 

When I left the bathroom I was wrapped in a towel and humming some Ariana Grande song that made me feel a little better, at least until I stepped in something wet and sticky. I lifted my foot to find a few drops of blood on the carpet. 

"Shit," I muttered, and after slipping into a pair of panties and a t-shirt I raced out of the room to find Jane. "Jane! Jane! Are you okay, sweetie?"

She barked to let me know she was downstairs, so that's where I headed, bounding the steps two at a time until I found her on the foyer floor. 

"Let me see you," I said, and I commanded her to stand up. She did so and I gave her a full inspection from snout to the tip of her tail. The only blood I could find was a little here and there around her vulva, and her lips there were more than a little swollen. She flinched when I touched them and whined quietly, but also mournfully. 

Immediately I went to Doctor Google to see what was going on. After all, the last thing I could afford this month was another trip to the vet. Of course, I didn't say that, because I didn't want to make Jane feel worse if she was already in pain. 

Fifteen minutes online confirmed my worst fears. Jane was going into heat. 

Shit. 

I took several deep breaths. 

Shit. Shit. Shit.

That damn dog was determined to make a liar out of me to Mr. Yeomans. 

But I couldn't wallow in my misery long because another phone call needed my attention. 

"Hello?"

"Hi, it's Kaitlyn. You know, from the vet. Everything okay?"

"Yep, sorry. Stressful few days."

"Listen, I hate to be in the middle of all this, but..."

"Uh-huh?"

"Like I said, I don't like it when my dad puts me in the middle of things."

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

"I'm not at work right now, and honestly..."

"Don't worry about it," I said. "What's up?"

"Like I said, it's my dad. Howard Yeomans."

"Oh," I said, and I let the word swallow up a lot of space and time before I spoke again. "Oh," I repeated. 

"Yeah. After I told him all about Queen Jane, he really, really wants to be the first to mate with her."

"Tell me about it. He offered me more than two thousand dollars."

"He told me. He told me you sounded like you were going to turn it down."

"I just don't know that I want to breed her. It feels like I'm pimping her out, you know."

"A lot of people feel that way at first, but then they learn that it's just natural. Leave her outside when she's in heat, and she'll just go looking for any old mutt to mate with. Millions of years of evolution are telling her that her body needs to make babies to keep the species going. It's just the way things are."

"Wow. Such a romantic." 

"For animals, I mean."

"I'm kidding."

"I'm only gonna make one more pitch for him, then we'll both leave it alone, okay? Even if you don't want her to be a regular breeder, it never hurts -- in fact, many believe it helps -- to let a female dog have her first litter before you spay her. Me, I don't know. But the scientists and the doctors go both ways on that. I can tell you what I've seen though, and the dogs that had litters seem to be a little happier as they get older. That's all I know."

"Okay. You've made your pitch."

"And?"

"Well, to tell you the truth, Jane just started showing signs of going into heat. She's bleeding and swollen."

"Yeah, sounds like."

"I don't know what to do."

"Want to bring her in?"

"Can't afford to this week."

She didn't respond. 

"Any suggestions?"

"Sure. Bring her to my dad," she said with a laugh. "Drop her off for a few days and go home with twenty-three hundred dollars in your pocket."

I sighed. "Any other suggestions?"

"Well," she said somewhat reluctantly, it sounded, "if you're determined to keep her from mating, I'd say keep her in the house and clean up behind her. If you've got a crate, lock her in that for the next several days until the cycle passes." She paused. "And get a pair of noise-canceling sleep headphones, because she's going to be desperate for attention from a male."

"Desperate?"

"Yeah, like I said, millions of years of evolution." 

I took a deep breath. I looked at poor Jane, whining and starting to drag her bottom across the floor for relief again. I never asked for any of this. I was forced into it.

"Is it really more healthy to let them have the first litter?"

"Well, like I said, doctors go back and forth, but Doctor Fuller..."

"Uh-huh?"

"It's usually his recommendation unless there are other health concerns, not that Queen Jane has any of those. She's beautiful and healthy as a, well, horse." 

"Shit. She's gonna kill me when this is over."

"I'm sorry. I didn't understand."

"Nothing," I said. "Just thinking out loud." 

"Oh." There was another long pause. "Hey, on a totally unrelated note..."

"Yeah."

"I don't suppose you'd like to catch a movie or get a coffee sometime?"

"Are you asking me out?"

"Yeah. My timing's shit, I know, but I have to shoot my shot."

"Fuck."

"I'm sorry. I should have waited."

"No," I said. "It's not that. It's Jane."

"Forget about Jane for a minute. Just keep her in the crate. She'll be loud and miserable, but she'll be fine after it's all over."

"Is it really better for her?"

"That's what I've been told and what I've read and what I believe."

"What movie?"

"Are you saying yes?"

"Yes." I found myself smiling. "And before I change my mind, give me  your dad's address and let him know I'll bring Jane over tonight." 

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"How 'bout I meet you at your place and drive you over instead?"

"Okay, sure." Now I was grinning. 

I looked down at Jane, who wasn't paying the least bit of attention to me. 

"Mommy's got a date," I whispered, but Kaitlyn must have heard me and she laughed. 

Jane kept grinding against the carpet.

*

Kaitlyn was indeed the dark-haired, slim tech I remembered, the one with glasses and freckles and the cute smile. When she met me at my door, her hair was down and fell over her shoulders instead of up in the high ponytail she wore for work. She wore black jeans and a dark floral top that was almost see-through with a green camisole top underneath it. 

She looked amazing, and it made me forget all about Jane for a few moments. 

"How's Jane?" she asked as I invited her in.

"Horny," I said, not joking about it for once.

She nodded. "Yeah, they get that way. Nature's way of taking control when it needs to." She followed me to the living room and we sat down, me on the sofa and her on the loveseat. "Where is she?" 

"I took your advice and put her in the crate. She was driving me crazy with all the rubbing herself on the floor and whimpering. It's disturbing to watch, like some kind of doggie porn."

Kaitlyn laughed out loud at that and crossed her legs. 

"Sounds like we need to get her out to Dad's kennel quick so the poor girl can get some relief." 

"Are you sure it's better?"

"Damn," she said. "The way you're so concerned about this dog it's like she's your best friend or your sister or something, not just a dog." 

"She's special." More special than you know, I thought. 

"But yes, she'll be fine. Lots of bitch dogs go through this, most of them actually, whether at a kennel or in the wild or in an alley in town. And they come out all right, except for the strays sometimes. Not all the puppies make it out there on the streets. But Jane, she'll be amazing. I'll be the pups will be top dollar too." 

I sighed, got up and we walked into the garage to get Jane. When I let her out, I fastened the leash to her collar and I commanded her to heel as I walked her through the house. She looked up at me for some indicator of where I might be taking her, but I couldn't bring myself to say a word. Just surprise her, I thought. With any luck, it would be the good surprise she needed and not something that would make her hate me forever. 

But then again, and the thought hit me with all the comfort I had been needing, perhaps this was just another new routine she would accept, another new pattern that her doggie brain would conform to. Just as she had adapted to and accepted the crate, just as she had adapted to and accepted her pattern for each of my workdays, just as she had adapted to and accepted the gross, mushy canned food, just as she had adapted to and accepted -- and even got excited about -- her dog treats, she would most likely adapt to and accept her role as a bitch mated to male Labs and producing a litter of puppies she would never really get to know while Mr. Yeomans and I profited from her natural inclination. 

And the worst part was that it probably wouldn't even take that long. She was at the mercy of her new instincts that strongly. 

Or so I hoped. If not, she might never forgive me.

Jane followed obediently to my SUV, and just as always, she hopped up and climbed into the travel crate when I opened the hatch and the front of the crate. I fastened her inside, and she stuck her snout against the bars and I stroked her nose gently. 

"Good girl," I said. "That's my good, good, sweet girl."

"Such a sweet puppy," Kaitlyn said. "And so beautiful."

I smiled. 

I made sure the Bungie cords were tight, and then I closed the hatch. Kaitlyn and I climbed into the front and I cranked up the car. She turned to me and smiled. 

"Let's get that poor girl some relief," she said. 

I nodded, but still couldn't decide if I felt guilty or content that I was making the right choice. But it wasn't even a choice I should have been making. No human being should have to. Jane had made her bed and mine, we would both have to lie in it. I could only do the best I could for her. 

Kaitlyn directed me to Yeoman's Kennels, which was way out on the outskirts of the city, not quite in the boonies, but far enough away for people to have long driveways and houses you couldn't see from the main road. Her dad's place was one of those, and I thought it would be a great place to film a horror movie. 

I stopped in front of a warehouse looking building and a middle-aged man in jeans, a white button shirt, and a brown sports coat came out to greet us. He hugged Kaitlyn and then walked over to shake my hand. 

"I'm Howard," he said. "I'm glad you changed your mind."

"It was never about the money," I said, somehow feeling like I needed to get that out in the open between us. "It really wasn't."

"Does that mean we can go back to the fifteen hundred then?" Howard said with a laugh. 

"Dad!" Kaitlyn said and smacked him on the shoulder with a fist. 

"Kidding. I'm kidding. You drove a hard bargain, intentionally or not, and I'm an honest man." 

"Good to know," I said.

"Well," he continued. "Can we meet the belle of the ball? I've heard so much about her."

"Sure," I responded and I walked around the car to open to hatch. 

The minute I did, I heard several dogs bay lustfully from inside the building. At their calling, Jane herself whined and whimpered in her crate. 

"Oh boy," Howard said.

"She's got it bad all right," Kaitlyn added. 

"Oh?" I said. 

Both Kaitlyn and her dad nodded. 

"Her heat must be stronger than I thought," he said. "The boys can smell her from out here and they're getting ready for her."

I started to feel guilty again. Could I really just walk my best friend inside that building to get raped by a bunch of horny male dogs?

No. I had to correct my thinking. I wasn't walking my best friend into anywhere. I was walking an equally horny female dog whose body was commanding her to procreate into a room where she could do just that. There was no rape. No lack of consent. She wanted it as much as they did, even if that desire was coming from somewhere other than her mind. 

Jane's tugging on the leash once she was out of the crate and on the ground was evidence enough of that. She whined and howled and pushed her hind quarters against the ground. 

"She looks ready enough to me," Kaitlyn said. 

Her dad nodded. "But more than that, she's beautiful, absolutely gorgeous. That color, that shine." He turned to me. "How do you do it? How do you keep it so shiny and yellow?"

"Honestly," I answered. "I don't do anything. It's her." 

"Amazing," he said. He turned to me again. "Five grand. I'll buy her off of you right now for five grand. No Lab bitch without years of trophies has ever gone for five grand before, but I'll do right here and now if you're game." 

I shook my head. "Not my girl. Not for sale." 

He laughed. "Can't blame me for trying." He turned to his daughter. "Damn, Kait, you weren't lying. She's one of a kind, all right. And the papers? She's pure?"

Kaitlyn nodded. "Purest I've ever seen. Doc Fuller ran the blood test three times. Ninety-nine point eight seven. And that's most likely because of airborne micro-contamination before we could close the vials. She's probably straight up one-hundred percent pure."

"I just can't believe it," he said. "How 'bout seven thousand free and clear?"

I smiled. "How 'bout we stick with the deal we agree on? I just want what's best for Jane."

"Right. Right." Howard reached for the leash. "Mind if I take her? She'll need a strong hand once she gets around the boys so she doesn't jerk out of your grip."

I handed him the leash and followed him and Kaitlyn to the door of the building. It was open and had no hinges so it just stayed that way. Even my nose could smell the odor of hungry and horny dogs as I stepped inside. 

But the place was immaculate. Pristine even. There were eight wide cages, four on each side, and five of those had residents, each a Golden Lab, and each one was barking and whooping and jumping around in Jane's direction as she entered the hallway between the rows of pens. 

"Whoa, girl," Howard said, and he tightened his grip on the leash. "Damn. She's about to pull out of my hands."

I knelt in front of her and stroked her face. She was looking past me toward the pens. I turned and followed her gaze. Four of the five dogs were already well past ready judging by the side of their pink, unsheathed erections. 

"It's amazing," Howard said. "Her scent must be amazing. Never seen 'em this ready so soon." 

It's the magic, I thought. It's the fucking magic, and I can't say a word about it.

I leaned down and kissed Jane on her snout. She growled and then relented. "Bad girl," I said, then softened my tone. "Okay, is this what you really want, Jane?" I almost whispered. 

Two enthusiastic barks. 

"Is it the heat or do you want it, really want it?"

"Oh, she wants it all right," Kaitlyn said. "Anybody can see that."

Jane barked twice. A short pause. Then two more barks. Then another pause and twice more. 

"Okay, Mr. Yeomans. Do your thing," I said. 

I backed up and watched. It was awful and it was amazing and it was almost brutal in the most majestic way possible, but I couldn't not watch. I could not turn my eyes away. Yeomans commanded the big Lab at the back to get away from the door, and then he unlocked the pen and walked Jane inside. 

She turned back to look at me once, then gave all her attention to the male.

Yeomans barely had time to exit the cage before she had raised her backside in the air and pushed her forepaws and snout against the ground, making herself available to him. 

He jabbed at her four times before he entered her, and then it was a race to the finish. There was no tenderness, no love, no affection, just the natural urge of this male dog to pump his future generations into this bitch beneath him. 

It wasn't long before he stopped pumping and turned around. As he did, Jane whimpered and tried to move away but she couldn't.

"It's the knot," Kaitlyn said, pointing toward where the two dogs were joined, as it appeared, ass to ass. "It'll take a few minutes to go down. It's nature's way of ensuring their connection while all his sperm has the time it needs to get to her eggs."

"Oh," I said, my eyes still locked on the spectacle. 

After a few minutes they unlocked and the male pulled away to lie down with one paw across Jane's back. She was his bitch. He had tamed her. He had pumped his babies into her. And now he would show the other males that she belonged to him. It was almost tribal. 

Another fifteen minutes later and both dogs began stirring again. 

"So soon," Howard said. "This is amazing." 

Jane was open and sniffing at the male dog's mouth, then licking him, then she went around back and did the same to his genitals. As she licked, his dick unsheathed again and soon was mostly ready. He stood behind her and propped up on her back and she let him push her down snout-first again. 

It only took two jabs this time and he was inside her, rigorously fucking her with a speed that was almost dizzying. Jane howled with what sounded like a combination of both pain and pleasure, but I didn't know enough about dog sex to tell one way or the other.

Before long, they were back to back again, knotted, panting while the sperm and eggs had all the time in the world to get together. 

We left them after that. 

Back inside Howard's house, a nice brick, two-story with columns on the front porch, we were sitting at his dining room table drinking coffee. Well, Kaitlyn and I were. He was drinking herbal tea. 

"Can't do caffeine after three o'clock," he had said. 

"What's next?" I asked. 

He sort of grunted with a smile. "I'll leave her and Prince George -- ironic since she's Queen Jane, ain't it? -- anyway, I'll leave them two together for the night, and give them plenty of time to get to know each other, biblically, you know. Then in the morning about five, I'll move her into the next pen with Perseus and give them about six or seven hours. Then I'll do the same with each of the boys, Cerberus, Leo, well Leonides, and Machiavelli. Depending on how much heat she has left in her after that, we might make a second round of mating. It all depends on her."

"So I just leave her here?"

"Yep, seeing as I'm the only one with the setup for it."

"Sorry," I said. "Yeah. I know that. I guess I'm just tired and not making sense." 

"No, no. It's okay. I can't wait to see those babies though. If they look even a little like her, they're gonna be worth more than I would have expected. We're gonna have people chomping at the bit, giving top dollar for one of Queen Jane's offspring."

"Will you call me?" I looked at the floor as I spoke. "When it's all down, I mean. Or should I check in and see how things are going?"

"Either way is fine. But I can do you one better, and I can just run her back up to Heartville and you can pick her up there. They can even give her a check-up first, and I'll let 'em put it on my part of the expenses."

I nodded. "That'd be perfect." 

I stood up to go. Kaitlyn stood with me.

"Still want to get coffee?"

"I've got coffee."

"Yeah, but we didn't go for coffee."

I nodded. I did need something to take my mind off, well, the whole freaky night. And I hoped a little date with Kaitlyn might just do the trick. 

"But before you go," Howard said. He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and opened it, then he counted out twenty-three one-hundred-dollar bills and handed them to me. 

"A pleasure doing business with you," I said, suddenly seeing a new water heater and HVAC unit in my near future, maybe even before Jane returned home, freshly laden with a litter of growing puppies inside her womb. 

"A business doing pleasure with you," he said. 

"Don't mind Dad," Kaitlyn said. "It's just a thing he says."

*

I checked in each day, only to hear pretty much the same story. Jane was happily entertaining the boys and moving along easily from one to the next, and not to worry. She was fine. 

Kaitlyn and I had hit up a local bar, and I had gotten a little more drunk than I had planned so she drove me home and helped get me into bed, then took off in her own car after making sure I was okay. She called the next morning, but I slept through the answering machine and missed the call. Still, she was sweet for checking up on me. 

I spent the days while I waited for Jane to finish mating watching TV and catching up on chores I hadn't been able to do with the additional work taking care of a dog had put on me. Eventually, I got bored, and I found that I missed having my dog around. Funny how she could grow on me, even as annoying and troublesome as she was to take care of. 

The more I thought about Jane, the more I made notes in my mind about all the ways she was becoming more and more dog-like, less and less a thinking, rational human woman, and more a simple beast of instinct and nature. After pondering the thought in the back of my brain all day, that evening I grabbed a notepad from the kitchen drawer and sat down at the dining room table to put it all down on paper instead. 

The list read:

1. She adapted to crate training quickly and no longer fusses or complains about being locked in it most of the day.

2. She only needed a few days with a shock collar to adapt to a more obedient state when I told her to do something instead of fighting me on whatever it is I told her. 

3. She automatically heads from the crate to the door in the afternoons without being told to go poop or pee, or that it's time for outside play.

4. She no longer waits for me at the door and begs to come in during outside play, and I actually have to call her to come in for dinner. 

5. Her entire body acts like she's overjoyed to see me when I get home, from her wagging tail to her barking and her bouncing in the crate. 

6. It only took a few days for her to appreciate and even enjoy the disgusting canned dog food, and now she laps it up like it's the last meal she'll ever see again.

7. When her heat came, she went willingly into Mr. Yeoman's pens and made herself available to his male dogs. Then she even helped to instigate a second mating by licking and nuzzling the male until he mounted her again. 

That last one was the big one. I still couldn't wrap my head around it. 

I tried to remember what Denise had told me when she gave me the ultimatum about taking care of her in dog form -- no, not in dog form, but taking care of her as a dog, while she was a dog. I tried to keep the distinction between the two in my mind. 

Two of her statements stood out to me.

“I was a dog, Rose. A genuine, real dog.” And, "I want to live as a dog, your dog, for a full year."

I hadn't really understood her at the time, I guessed. I still saw her as my friend in a dog's body, a human brain doing dog things. But she had used the stone before and knew more about it, knew the kind of effects being a dog would have on her. She hadn't wanted to be my human-as-a-pet-dog. She had wanted to be my actual dog. She knew what that much time under the spell might do to her. She knew that her body would begin to react as if she had been born a dog, just another pup in a litter. She knew that her psyche would begin to adapt as well, that she would gradually let the rational human thoughts fade into the background and that even her reactions and wants would become more like those of other dogs. 

She had known all of that. 

Only I hadn't. 

And each time I tried to have a conversation with her, each time I tried to protect her human intellect, I was denying her the one thing she had wanted when she dumped the whole situation on me in the first place. 

She didn't want to live as a dog. She wanted to be a dog. 

Well, that would certainly take a lot of work off my plate in regards to her. Without having to be on guard for her mind, I could relegate her to just being a dog. Basic care. Feeding, some love and attention, training, and keeping her healthy. That was all she needed, except for some hot dog-on-dog action when she went into heat. And Mr. Yeoman's could take care of that for me. 

I no longer needed to treat her as a friend or my ex, just my pet Golden Lab puppy. 

That sorted, I folded the list and put it on the drawer to add to later as Jane's nature progressed and adapted. 

Then I showered, called up Kaitlyn, and asked if she wanted to got out to dinner, my treat now that I had a fresh influx of cash thanks to my horny bitch Queen Jane. 

Kaitlyn and I went out several nights, me paying sometimes and her treating me sometimes, while Jane continued her mating season. 

On the fourth date, she told me that her dad was planning to bring Jane back to the clinic the next day, that she finally seemed to be out of her active heat. She was probably even spending the night alone in one of the empty pens tonight to recover her energy. 

I told her that was fine, and we could worry about Jane tomorrow, but tonight was our night. And it was. It was the first night she came back with me to my place and stayed the night. 

In the morning, she rose early, got dressed, and told me she needed to get home and get ready for work, and she'd call me later. I kissed her goodbye, then pulled her to me again for a second deep kiss.

"Mmmm. Nice," she said. 

"Call me," I said. 

"Of course."

Then she was gone. 

I had already called both the HVAC tech and the water heater tech, and when I brought Jane home that night both were installed, and the house was cool and the water heating up. 

When I let Jane out of the travel crate, I had already decided not to really talk to her other than simple commands or sweet nothings like "Good girl" and "Who's a sweet puppy?" -- that sort of thing. I opened the hatch, then the crate.

"Jane, down," I said sharply but not bossy, and she hopped down to the driveway. "Good girl." 

I started for the front door, and she fell in step beside me. 

"Inside," I said after I opened the door. She trotted right in, and I closed the door behind us. 

Then I went to the kitchen and still she remained in step beside me.

"Treat?" I asked, and she looked up and barked twice. I would have to remind myself to ignore the yes and no responses except for emergencies so her treatment was more typical, more real for her new state of being. 

I opened the little plastic jar of treats and told her to sit. She did. "Good girl." Then I handed her the treat. She practically snapped at it, and I jerked it away. "Gentle," I said, then I extended the treat again. This time she opened her mouth and kept it open while I handed her the fake bacon strip, and only when my hand was clear did she snap it shut and take the treat away to chew it. "That's better," I said. 

Then I went to the fridge and grabbed a White Claw and took a seat at the table with a bag of potato chips. 

Jane came over again, looking from me to the jar of treats. I said, "No, girl. No more," and she whined and stood up, but I repeated myself and snapped my fingers then pointed to the floor. She promptly dropped onto her but in a sitting position. "That's better. Good girl. No more treats." 

I wondered what she might be thinking or if she was thinking at all beyond simply wanting a dog treat to snack on. Had she noticed a change in my treatment of her? Was she thinking about the experience I had just put her through? Was she embarrassed now that the heat was no longer affecting her body and brain? 

No, I corrected myself. Don't even think about it. It doesn't matter anyway. She's a dog. Just a dog. Your dog.

She stood up again and put a paw on my thigh, clearly begging for another bacon strip. 

"No, girl." Then I snapped my fingers again and pointed to the floor. Her but plopped against the tile immediately. "Mommy said no."

I got up and took the chips and my drink into the living room. Jane followed me and sat on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. She woofed quietly. It sounded like maybe she wanted to talk about what had happened. 

"Sshh," I said, and I turned on the TV. There was no need to go over her mating. She was a female dog and it had happened, just like it happened to millions of other female dogs all over the world. 

I fell asleep watching some old movie about a werewolf while Jane kept her gaze on me from a spot near the sofa. 

*

Over the next three weeks, a lot happened, not just for Jane but also for Kaitlyn and me. For starters, we became an official item, updating Facebook statuses and all that nonsense. We saw a lot of each other and I spent time with her at both her place and my place, though I never stayed over at her place, not since Jane wasn't capable of taking care of herself. 

As for Jane, she and I had finally started her obedience training, and I had been given a clicker that we used to aid in the conditioning. Basically, we were to click it each time we gave a command, and the dog would eventually associate the sound of the click with the need to do what his or her owner commanded. The clicking itself, we were told, would put the dog in a state of ready obedience unless we directed it otherwise. 

She also learned several tricks, like roll-over, beg, bang-bang (play dead), shake, spin around, dance, and quite a few others. I loved using the clicker and her commands at home to make her perform her repertoire for me and Kaitlyn. I found that method quite effective at redirecting her anytime I felt she wanted to communicate or get my attention beyond basic pet-owner interactions. 

It was the cutest thing to see her bounce and bark while trying to tell something she must have thought was important, only to have me grab the clicker and command her to dance or play dead, ultimately to forget all about whatever had seemed so important to her before. 

All the while, her pregnancy started to show as well. Her little belly wasn't full-on fat yet, but it wasn't nearly as slim as it had been. My pretty little puppy was becoming my plump little puppy, and I missed no opportunity to call her out on it. Kaitlyn kept an eye on her and made sure I got her in the office for all the required pre-natal check-ups. The good news was she remained a healthy, knocked-up doggie, so there were no worries there. 

After a month and a half, she was a successful graduate from obedience training, and thanks to the clicker, she spent more of her life in a state of being responsive to any pending commands. Because of that, she spent less and less time trying to get my attention beyond her need to go out to relieve herself or to beg for a treat. Her behavior, even in the privacy of my house when we were alone, was more and more that of just any other dog. 

Just like she had wanted. Just like she had forced me into doing for her, with her, to her. 

Time passed quickly and Kaitlyn and I were getting hot and heavy, and even talking about meeting my parents. Jane's belly kept growing and before long she was all but bulging with puppies. When she lay down on the floor, I could feel the little rascals move inside her, and Kaitlyn told me that it would be any day now. 

I took her back to Mr. Yeomans' kennel to give birth. I figured he had the facilities, and I sure as hell didn't want all that blood and birthing gunk all over my house. Kaitlyn agreed that was a good idea. I even figured that she should stay there during her nursing, and I offered to pay for Mr. Yeomans to take care of her out of my part of the profits from the puppies. 

He was nice enough to set up a webcam in the pen and I watched from the safety and fresh scent of my home while my pregnant puppy squeezed out her first little. 

Seven babies. Seven. 

Howard had told me that was amazing for a first litter. 

She stayed at the Hotel de Yeoman for a full month and nursed the puppies. It was a perfect arrangement for us both. I didn't have to get attached to any of the puppies, and they could stay with Kaitlyn's dad to take care of the sales while Jane returned home without them to make her break from being a mom a clean one. She would get over any post-partum concerns far more quickly that way. 

I recorded lots of videos for her to watch later when her dog days were over. The birth, the nursing, the puppies playing around and tugging on her tail and ears. Bathing the pups. It was cute, and I hoped she might appreciate it when the time came to watch it. 

When she did come home, she wandered around the house for three days looking for her puppies by sight and smell. On the fourth though she greeted me with a kiss as I awoke. That day she didn't seem to be bothered by her missing babies anymore, just another thing that helped dogs adjust in the wild, I figured. Sure, as the special dog she was, her long-term memory would store the thoughts of the puppies, but her dog instincts wouldn't let her focus on that now. 

I stroked her face and kissed the top of her snout. 

"Good morning, sweet girl," I said. "Who's mommy's good girl? You are, that's right."

I let her give me another sloppy kiss. 

"That's right," I said as I played with the floppy ears. "Need to go out?"

She barked and bounced. Not the two barks I noticed, this time. Just happy barks. 

"Okay, let's go."

I walked her downstairs to the door and she stayed at my side until I opened, then she bounded out and immediately squatted down to pee. Her poor little bladder must be forever changed after childbirth and all those puppies, I guessed. 

I waited for her to poop also, then called her back inside, and she responded immediately. 

"Did you miss your mommy? I bet you did, sweet Jane. My good girl."

I took her in for a treat.

"Good girl. Here's your treat," I said and opened the jar of treats, which I had freshly refilled for my good girl's return. 

When she finished, I squatted beside her and hugged her neck then scratched under her floofy chin. 

After her treat, she followed me to the garage door, then into the garage, and finally into the crate, without so much as once resisting. Of course, she had lived the past month in a kennel pen, so why would she resist?

I left her in the garage with only the dim light of the garage door opener overhead and went inside. During the month without Jane in the house, I had established my own pattern for my days. 

Both Howard and Kaitlyn, whenever she visited her dad's kennels, had kept up the clicker training, so Jane hadn't backslidden in that regard. 

Within a few days, both Jane and I were back in our old patterns together. Morning pees and poops. Morning wet food. Crate during the day. Afternoon pees and poops. Playtime outside. Evening wet food. Relaxing in the house before bed. Night-night on her doggie bed in the corner of my room. 

Lather, rinse, repeat.

I discovered that I hardly had to use the clicker since she had stopped trying to interact with me in any way other than typical dog fashion. She had even stopped using the two barks for yes and three barks for no method and just barked and woofed for needs or for what seemed at random. 

Kaitlyn and I continued to grow closer, and Jane was almost eleven months into her year as a dog when she showed signs of her second heat. Kaitlyn was with me, and she got so excited when Jane entered the room whining and showing off her swollen vulva.

"Oh my god, Rose!" Kaitlyn screamed. "It's time for more puppies."

I couldn't complain. After all, Mr. Yeomans and I had made a clean twelve grand on the first litter, and forty-five hundred of that went to me. Not a bad chunk of change for no work at all. Poor Jane put in all of that effort. I just pocketed the cash. 

Not thinking about the calendar -- I had grown that use to having Jane around as my pet pooch -- I told my girlfriend, "Well, I did promise your dad her second litter. Can you call him and let him know?"

"Sure," she said, and before the night was over I had Jane crated up in the back of the SUV and she was on her way to the Puppy Love Motel to meet all her favorite boyfriends for a second round. Whether she remembered them or not, it didn't seem to matter. Her body's need for sex was driving, and if she could have opened Prince George's cage to let herself in, I believe she would have. 

I watched again as George and Jane demonstrated their lust for all to see. 

That night I went back to Kaitlyn's place and we did the same without and audience. 

Several days later, I got word from Kaitlyn that Jane was back at the clinic and that according to the tests, she was pregnant again with what most likely was another big litter. "Two things," she said before hanging up. "How 'bout Chinese for dinner tonight? My treat. And the puppies should arrive in about two months."

We blew kisses to each over the phone, and after she shut off the call, I went to my wall calendar to mark Jane's delivery window. 

That's when it hit me. 

Five weeks away was the day she was supposed to transform back into Denise.

But her window for the birth of the litter was eight weeks away. 

Shit. 

*

 "The way I see it," Kaitlyn was telling me as we sat in my kitchen drinking coffee, "you've already been paid for the first three litters. If you back out of that, you'll owe my dad about seven hundred bucks. Small changed after what you and he made on the first litter and you'll probably make that much on the second litter too."

"Yeah, but..." I started, but couldn't get the words out. 

"Pardon me if I can't get too upset about your ex-girlfriend being an idiot," she said. "I'm just trying to think this all out in strictly practical terms."

Jane was back at the house, still too early for her belly to show signs of being pregnant and each time she wandered over to us at the table, I would click the clicker and send her back to the living room, either with fetch or with a command to go lie down. and each time she would snap to it and do whatever I instructed. No questions. No problems. 

Once I realized the mistake I had made with the calendar I had confessed everything to Kaitlyn. I couldn't help it. I needed someone to discuss it with. I needed someone to help me figure out what to do.

Of course, she hadn't believed me at first, so demonstrated it on myself, transforming my own body into that of a Border Collie then back again to human. Just once. I didn't dare risk getting stuck. She took the stone from me and then tried it on herself. Instantly she became a large German Shepherd. She walked around the house a little and scared poor Jane to death with some growling and barking before returning to her human form. 

"Holy shit," were her first words after using the stone. 

"Yeah," I said and took the stone back to my safe and locked it away again. It was not a toy to be played around with.

She couldn't really talk about it that day, so we met again the next at my place. 

"And then there is the magic itself to worry about," Kaitlyn said. "Do we know she could even change back the way she is? Would that even be safe?"

"I don't understand."

"Think about it. Can a human woman actually carry puppy fetuses? It would most certainly kiss the fetuses and probably wouldn't do any favors for the woman either." She had her lips wrinkled up in thought. "Besides, even if she could, the act of giving birth to them would hurt her like nobody's business. She'd be all ripped up."

"Okay, okay," I said. "I hear you. We have to at least let these litter be born."

"Born and nursed," she said. "There's too much on the line. Without Jane, the babies' chances of survival aren't the best. And you are contractually obligated for the litter."

"Okay," I said. "Born and nursed. What are we looking at then?"

Still a little over a month and half until they're born, then at least another eight weeks until she can leave 'em be. Let's estimate it at roughly four months."

"Four months? Shit. She's gonna kill me."

"And that isn't even taking into account the third litter that you already promised."

"Surely your dad would understand."

"Sure, but do you want to bring him in on the secret too?"

"I hadn't thought about that. Not really."

"Then it's just going to seem like you're pulling one over on him, probably for more money with another breeder."

"Shit."

"Besides..." Kaitlyn reached across the table for my hand and gave it a squeeze. "Does Jane really have any idea how much time has gone by? From what I can tell, she doesn't seem to be aware of much of anything other than peeing, pooping, eating, and playing fetch -- at least until it's time to get fucked."

"I..." I took a deep breath. "I... I don't know."

"Look at her. She just wandered around, looking for treats, chasing the ball all over the house, and doing tricks. I think if you gave her something else to take whatever is left of her mind off anything remotely like a human thought, she could remain a dog for years without even beginning to care how long."

"That just doesn't seem right. It feels dirty."

She squeezed my hand again. "She's a dog, plain and simple. She doesn't get a say in it." 

"But..."

"Just hear me out." Kaitlyn reached into her purse and pulled out a brochure, unfolded it, then handed it to me. "Look at this."

On the front of the piece was a photo of a huge fluffy sheepdog being loved on by kids in a hospital. In big letters over the photo were the words "Pets for Patients" and in smaller ones ran the tagline "Your gentle pet can change the life of a child in need."

"Think about it," Kaitlyn said. "Jane would be perfect for this. She's perfectly gentle, incredibly obedient, and very well-conditioned now -- all with an intellect behind all that to drive and keep her focused if we need it. And with her weekends spent visiting sick kids, the last thing she'll be wondering about will be what day it is on the calendar."

In the back of my mind, a loop kept playing. I didn't ask for any of this. She forced me into this. I couldn't deny that made any decision that didn't benefit Denise much easier. Hell, I thought, who was Denise anyway? There was no Denise, only Queen Jane. 

Besides, Denise had always had a selfish streak, and a little community service would be good karma for her. 

"Can she do that when she's pregnant?" I asked.

"Absolutely. I mean, we'll not take her when walking around too much is too stressful for her, but until then, sure. She'll do great."

"We?"

"Hey, we're in this together, right? You're my girl, aren't you, Rose?"

"Damn well better be." I smiled wide. 

"Besides, you work a nine-to-five. I might have some freedom to take our Jane on visits while you're at work sometimes."

I thought about it. Not a bad idea having Jane get used to Kaitlyn as a co-owner the way things were going between us.

"And there are other services looking for friendly dogs too. Special needs kids at schools, senior centers, that kind of thing. We could get Jane on the circuit and keep her so busy making people happy she'll spend her life in the kind of blissful ignorance a pampered puppy should."

"I guess so, but only through the third litter. After that, all my promises are fulfilled."

"Sure. But bear in mind that will take sweet Jane well into almost two years as a sweet puppy dog."

"I know." I had been doing the math in my head during the conversation. "Trust me. I know." 

"Hell," Kaitlyn added, "by then she might not even remember ever being a human, and can you imagine what changing back then might do to her mind?"

I hadn't thought of that, but what could I do? I was committed at least for the next four months, even if I chose to go back on my word to Mr. Yeomans for the third litter, even if I had to bring him into the secret to convince him I wasn't trying to hardball him into more money."

"Here, Jane," Kaitlyn called, and the pretty Lab trotted into the kitchen and stuck out her head for ear scratches. Kaitlyn got up and retrieved the tennis ball from Jane's toy basket and threw it into the foyer. Jane's claws skittered across the floor and she bolted toward the ball. Jane returned it and Kaitlyn threw it again. Off went Jane, almost sliding into the wall from running so fast. "Now, doesn't that look like a puppy that has any intention of being a human being again?"

I had to admit it really didn't. Jane, if anything, seemed to really, really enjoy her new life on four legs. And I didn't have any choice, at least not for several months. Best just to let it play out and see what happened. 

So the circle on my calendar came and went, and one month flipped over into the next, and my precious little puppy got fatter and fatter and started to visit sick kids on the weekends. 

*

Howard and I made another twelve grand on the second litter, and Jane was as happy a pooch as she ever had been when her second set of babies was forgotten. Kaitlyn moved in and Jane became "our dog" officially, and she had learned to respond to Kaitlyn as well as she responded to me. If anything, Kaitlyn was more loving and more gentle with her and treated her to more baby talk and "rough play" on the floor and definitely more rubs and scratches. 

I couldn't quite figure out if that was to reinforce Jane's role as a pet and distract her from human concerns or if she just really loved dogs that much and simply saw Jane as just another dog to love. 

Since things were going so well, I held off on returning the stone to Jane, and I waited for her to go into heat a third time. 

We were at a senior center Jane had started visiting when we got the first indicators of the new heat. Nothing alarming, but we did make plans to drop her off with Howard the following day.

Two months later, Jane produced her third litter, this time only six beautiful puppies, and in another two months she was back at home and resuming her touring schedule for the children's hospital and the senior center. The kids and the seniors adored her, and she seemed to love them as well, so I figured she was happy. 

Howard and I were sitting another grand richer ourselves, and Jane's puppies were already making a name for themselves. Howard let me know he would lend me the clout of his kennel and its reputation if I would officially go into business with him. He would be the exclusive breeder when it came to Jane, of course.

On night, while Kaitlyn was doing inventory at the clinic, Jane and I were alone at the house. It had been a little over two years, and I wasn't sure what to do. 

So I changed up our routine to see if I could shock her humanity back to the surface for a bit. 

"Jane," I called and when she came to the bedroom door, I patted the bed beside me. "Come on up, sweetie," I said. 

She came to the bed but didn't jump on it. She knew better.

"It's okay, girl."

Still, she stayed put. There was no precedent for getting on the furniture, and she was a good girl. 

So I slipped from the bed to the floor and sat beside her. I motioned for her to put her head in my lap, and she did. 

"Are you still in there, Denise?" I asked. 

Only Jane's eyes moved to look up at me. 

"I'm serious."

Still no clear response from the dog in my lap. 

"That's what I was afraid of." 

I leaned back over the edge of the bed and grabbed the stone. I held it in front of her snout but didn't touch her with it. She looked at it as if she thought it might be a new toy. 

"No, girl. That's not a toy. Do you remember it? Do you remember what it does, what it did to you?"

She lay her head back in my lap but kept her eyes on the rock. 

"Do you? Can you do two barks for yes and three for no?"

She only whined a bit softly. 

"Well, shit. I guess that makes up my mind for me. I wasn't really sure what this would accomplish. I mean, hell, I guess any Denise left in you must have disappears a while ago and you've been only Jane all this time."

Another soft whine. 

"I need to let Kaitlyn's dad know something one way or the other. Either way, it looks like you've got a future in puppy making, with him or with other people. But honestly, I'd rather do it with him. He runs an honest, clean kennel, and you seem to like the males you mate with."

She craned her neck up and nuzzled against my chest before flopping back into my lap. 

"You're a good dog, Queen Jane, a really, really good girl. The best dog ever." I rubbed the top of her head. "I just hope you're happy." 

Suddenly Jane gave two quiet grunts. Or were they barks? 

"Are you happy, girl?" I asked, holding her snout up to really pay attention to my question. 

This time she did nothing. I must have imagined it. Wishful thinking or something. 

"Do you want me to call Mr. Yeomans? Do you want to be a dog for the rest of your life?"

She lay her head in my lap and while I stroked her face and ears, she fell asleep. I tossed the stone onto the bed, then I got my phone from the top of the bed. 

"Mr. Yeomans?" I said as he answered.

"Howard, sweetie. You're practically my daughter-in-law. I wouldn't mind if you called me dad already." 

I laughed. "I want to sign with you. I think we could do business together." 

"Good. Good. I always figured you had a good head on your shoulders, well, except that first time I saw you talk to Jane and ask her permission anyway." 

We both laughed. "Yeah. She's still a special dog."

"You can say that again. The forums are hot with demand for her pups."

"I'm sure. I'll come by tonight to sign the papers, okay." 

"Sure. You and Kaitlyn come for supper. I'll grill steaks."

"Maybe I'll bring Jane too then. She loves a good steak."

"Bring her. She is the star of the show."

We laughed again. 

"I'll do that." 

He goodbye, and I put the phone down. 

Jane looked me straight in the eyes and barked twice. Then she walked away and lay down in her bed in the corner. 

I knew better than to ask again. 

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