“A dog reflects the family life. Whoever saw a frisky dog in a gloomy family, or a sad dog in a happy one? Snarling people have snarling dogs, dangerous people have dangerous ones.”
Doyle, Arthur Conan. (1927). The Case-Book of Sherlock Holmes. John Murray Publisher.
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It happened so quickly, Jacob had no time to even realize it was happening.
Without a puff of smoke, clap of thunder, or flash of lightning to herald the eerie, ominous onset of eldritch, extradimensional magic, Jacob's Homo sapiens body was transformed, in a fraction of yoctosecond, into that of Canis familiaris – he was dog! His short, compact canine body now stood about a foot tall and was about twice that long. He sported a piebald Blenheim coat of soft, silky chestnut and white downy fur that thoroughly coated every inch of his tiny, houndly body. His head was now a brachycephalic dogly dome sporting deeply-set large, dark, expressive eyes and perched high on a gently, arching neck that flowed into shoulders supported by the furry pillars that were now his front legs, set straight downward below and just behind his head. His square muzzle jutted out, terminating in a dark, moist rhinarium embossed with a surprisingly sensitive network of surface crenellations that sported wide, cavernous nostrils that screamed amplified flavors and scents with each inhalation. Long, coarse vibrissae proudly jutted forth from his snout, flanking either side of muzzle. A pair of pouting, puffy flews had replaced his cheeks, and now drooped low on either side of his mouth. Pendant ears hung low on Jacob, framing his bestial muzzle between two drooping flaps of thinly furred skin. He tried in vain to rise up into an erect, bipedal stance, but the new muscles and bones of his canine anatomy made that action impossible. The most he could do was crawl about digitigradient on all four limbs in what turned out to be a gait that was disturbingly fluid and natural feeling now. His thumbs had become clumsy, crude, useless dewclaws and the palms of his hands were now rough, flat paw pads. He scampered about on his small, furry legs with a surprising degree of dignified grace, his smooth, straight tail wagging about with a cheery mind of its own. Bits of feathered fur flared out along the length of Jacob's tail as it fluttered involuntarily behind him, a bristly, bushy living metronome.
“Yip yip yip!” he insisted.
Predictably, Jacob's intended human words were rendered instead in the purely cynomorphic tongue of man's best friend.
“Arf, woof, yap yap!” he said anyhow, realizing even as he growled aloud the words that his efforts at speaking English were doomed to prove fruitless.
From high above Jacob, the now lofty form of a colossal Emily loomed darkly into view. She scowled darkly at the source of this incessant allatrating.
Waitaminute, thought Jacob, cocking his head to the left and perking his ears up slightly. Did she just call me girl?
“What are you doing out here, Pepper?” asked Emily. “Who let you out of the house? And … yuck, what are you doing nosing around in this pile of old rags.”
Old Rags? thought Jacob. But these shreds and tatters of cloth have such a deliciously musky and piquant fragrance. Yum! He almost wanted to gobble up these pungent bits of smelly cloth surrounding him.
“No. Bad girl!” snapped Emily.
With the gently prodding toe of her boot, Emily kicked at the jumbled mass of fabric that had only recently been Jacob's clothing. He'd instinctively wiggled out of the loose mass of cloth earlier and now stood in its midst, breathing in the heady, intoxicating odors left behind from his own former human body.
“Yuck!” shrieked Emily. “These are somebody's clothes! A shirt, pants, and … ewww … some guy's boxer shorts are in here! Pepper – get out of there this minute. C'mon, girl. Get in the house. Now! Bad girl. Bad! You move it, now; don't make me swat your fuzzy li'l butt, girl.”
Something about Emily's tone of voice made Jacob's drooped ears reflexively perk up. She wanted him to move – to go inside. And although Jacob would have loved to remain here inhaling the rousing, sweaty scent of his old body, something deep inside his canine brain was screaming that Emily was his owner and he had to obey her. Even if he wanted to stay behind and sniff this dirty pile of clothes, Jacob had to be a good girl and obediently follow Emily's commands.
And so he found himself led inside the Johnson family home.
“Stay!” ordered Emily.
As though he no longer had any will of his own, Jacob promptly crouched low on his hind legs and watched as Emily went back outside, locking the front door behind her.
Jacob resisted the urge to start whimpering and whining like the tiny, female dog he'd physically become. Away from both the irresistible commands of his owner and the overpowering musky scent of his old clothes, Jacob found his mind slowly returning to its familiar, human thoughts.
He was a human boy: not a bitch. And he had to somehow get his paws on that magic, metal ring in the front yard. Oh, it would be so tasty to chew on that … No! he told himself. He wasn't Pepper the dog. He was Jacob the boy, and only that weird, copper artifact they'd found in the lawn could change him back. Otherwise he'd be stuck forever as the family pet of the girl he loved.
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