In his job, Frank never ceased to be amazed by some of the things people tossed out with their trash. For instance, he once found a beat-up cigar box with $760 in twenties stashed away inside it. Another time, he found an expensive watch that he had worn on his right wrist ever since.
Now, as the tall, strong man lifted the large trash can and dumped the contents into the back of the truck, he used a gloved hand to scatter the contents to keep everything spread out. It was during this work that he spied the old dog collar and pulled it from the rest of the Webster family garbage.
"This will be perfect for Rex," the 32-year-old man said as he stuffed the leather collar into a pocket on the front of his blue overalls. His partner, a fifty-year-old man who drove the truck and relied on Frank for the heavy lifting, asked if he was ready to head to the next stop. Frank, as agile as a monkey, climbed onto the side of the truck and pounded on the metal exterior to signal his readiness for his partner to drive to the next stop on the suburban street.
•••••
Frank's shift ended at three in the afternoon and he walked into his home after a 20-minute drive from the town's sanitation department office. As he entered, he left the sliding glass door open to let a breeze into his small living space in his duplex apartment. He didn't have air-conditioning, so he also stripped off his shirt, revealing a toned, hairy torso. He grabbed himself a cold one from his small fridge, walked back to his living room and took a seat on the couch. He popped the tab on his beverage but, before taking a sip, he produced a shrill whistle.
Seconds later, in response for the usual summons, a large Rottweiler loped into the apartment and settled obediently on the floor at Frank's feet. "How you doing, buddy?" Frank addressed the dog. He had spent weeks patiently training his dog once he got him as a puppy. His efforts had paid off. Young Rex, still pretty much a juvenile dog, knew the routine of the house and his place in it.
Frank scratched Rex behind his short, dark ears. "Oh, almost forgot," Frank said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the collar. "Sit, Rex," he said.
Rex planted himself obediently in front of his master. "Be still," Frank said as he loosened the old plastic collar around Rex's neck and slipped it over the dog's head.
"Found you this," Frank said as he fastened the leather collar around Rex's muscled neck. "Like it, boy?"
The dog remained still. Frank took a drink from the open can and decided he wanted some food, too. He issued a command for Rex to lay down while he returned to his kitchen area in the studio apartment.
He returned with a bag of cookies for himself and a single dog biscuit for Rex. He put the cookies on the coffee table and addressed Rex.
"Wanna treat, boy?"
The large Rottweiler got himself into a seated position and waited.
"Beg," Frank commanded.
The dog produced a whiny growl, which caused his master to laugh and toss him the biscuit.
Frank, for the first time, noticed the thin disc of metal and saw the name "Shaggy." He laughed and made a derisive comment about such an on-the-nose name for a dog, apparently missing the irony of having a dog named Rex.
"We'll get you your own tag," he promised, and then issued a command for Rex to lay down.
Within moments, Rex was sound asleep. "I wish I could sleep like a dog," he said somewhat enviously. He reached for the collar, intending to remove the cheap tag for replacement by a tag with the name Rex etched onto it. "Yeah, I wish I had your life. Nothing to do but eat and sleep all day."
He chuckled as his fingers closed on the tag, which still retained all the magical properties of the transmuted amulet. The transfer happened in an instant, leaving both dog and man surprised, to say the least.
For Frank, the change meant blinking his eyes and seeing his dingy apartment change from full color to a flat, monochromatic gray. He also found himself on the floor. He tried to stand, but kept awkwardly flopping onto his side. On one attempt, his head came to rest next to a large, muddy work boot. "That's my boot," was his first thought.
Frank looked up and saw his own human body looking down at him. During the moments of confusion, Rex, finding himself in his master's body, dropped the shiny tag. The small disc bounced on the sofa's upholstery and then disappeared down a crevice between the two large cushions to join spare change and other lost objects that slid into that limbo under the sofa cushions.
Since both Rex and his master had more urgent thoughts, neither gave much attention to the loss of the thin metal disc.
"What the fuck?" Frank thought the words but he didn't get what he expected to hear. "Did I just bark?" Frank barked.
Frank wasn't the sort of guy to just panic, so he closed his eyes. He counted down for five second and opened them again. Everything remained like something from an old black-and-white movie as his eyes darted around the room.
He looked up at his former body. He took in the hairy torso and his two tattoos, once on each of his muscular biceps. As he looked over the body that had been his until seconds ago, the "new" Frank opened his mouth. "Master?" He spoke in a confused but readily recognizable voice.
"Oh, fuck," Frank exclaimed.
Now, he panicked.