Frank became aware only gradually of his new surroundings as he drooled onto the concrete floor that felt so cool and soothing beneath him. Although as a Rottweiler he had a strong, sturdy form, his muscles felt as useless as chewed gum as he continued to throw off the effects of the tranquilizer dart.
He noticed a man and woman outside a chain-link barrier and realized he had been placed in some sort of holding pen.
"I called Sgt. Morales," the woman said. "I'm hoping he might be a way out for this new guy. It's not easy to get a Rottweiler adopted."
"What did he say?" Frank recognized the man conversing with the woman as the SOB who had shot him with the dart gun.
"He wasn't at the office, so I left a message," the woman said. "I hope he calls back. We're so full that I'm not sure how long we will be able to keep this guy around. Are you sure there wasn't any information about his owners?"
"The guy who called us wasn't extremely cooperative. Insisted the dog's a stray."
The woman shook her head and glanced into the pen at Frank's slumbering form. "I don't think so. I had a look at him, and he's in very good condition. I think he has a home and family out there."
The man shrugged. "Not going to be easy to track them down with no collar or tags."
She agreed. "Well, I think we can keep him around for at least a week."
Frank's ears picked up that last comment. "A week," he thought before realization dawned. He was a dog at the pound. "Fuck! In a week they're going to put me down!"
He still felt sore and stiff, but he twisted his neck for a look around the holding pen, which looked barren of anything useful. Not a scrap of paper or a stray pencil to be found, nor was it even readily apparent that Frank, in his current canine form, could have used a pencil to scribble out a plea for help even if he had had access to one.
He had to hope that Rex, now in his former body, would turn up to rescue him. "He's a good dog," he told himself. "He won't let me down."
Outside the pen, the woman answered her ringing phone. She listened for a moment before she ended the call with a thank you and goodbye. She turned to her co-worker. "That was Sgt. Morales, and he's definitely interested in this guy," she said with a nod at the Rottweiler. "He said he will stop by as soon as his shift ends."
The man who had tranquilized Frank and made him feel like crap turned to the caged dog. "Hear that, boy. There may be a way out of this mess for you!"