The urge came on him without warning. There was no mistaking it.
Freddie whined and began to travel tight circles between the bed and his bedroom door, as pressure on his bladder became more and more insistent with every passing minute.
Almost without thinking about it, he headed toward the bathroom attached to his room, but he came to a stop at the shut door. Over his head, he saw the door knob, an immovable object for a dog lacking hands. He whined more.
The door to his bedroom, however, remained ajar. Using his snout, he pushed on the door and it swung wide, allowing his departure into the corridor. His hopes were quickly dashed when he raced along the corridor but found all the doors closed to him, including the one to the guest bathroom at the end of the hall. He whimpered at the sight of the closed door, which set his tail to wagging. All that motion did nothing to ease the pressure on his bladder.
"I'm a dog...it's not like I can even use a toilet..." Freddie reasons in a monologue with himself.
He started downstairs but hesitated at the staircase. The stairs presented a daunting obstacle with Freddie still unused to his new mode of quadrupedal locomotion. If he didn't do something soon, he might burst. He managed the scary stairs and made a beeline to the kitchen as soon as he got back on all level floors only to be met with another closed door.
Freddie had hoped he could get into the backyard. Instead, he remained trapped in his own home. Whimpering non-stop, he surveyed the kitchen with his new monochromatic vision that rendered the world around him in various shades of gray. He found an open door, but after nudging the door open enough to permit his entry found himself standing in the broom closet.
The closet's contents consisted of a plastic bucket, a mop, a broom, and a pair of rubber boots. "I've got to go!" Freddie decided as he tried to align himself with the bucket. His hopes for a neat, no-fuss pee were defeated by his lack of familiarity with his new anatomy. Some of his stream fell in the bucket, but most spilled onto the floor to form a foul puddle. Something made him sniff the puddle. When he realized what he was doing, he stepped back, disgusted with himself.
Regardless, he felt much better with that nagging pressure no longer distracting him. He needed to get outside of his house and get too Michael. He knew the front door would be locked. Managing a knob would be one challenge. He didn't need a second challenge from a lock.
Freddie decided to try an exit through the back door, happy that he hadn't locked it after arriving home earlier. "If only I hadn't closed it behind me," he whimpered.
He managed to get on his hind legs and tried to manipulate the knob with his front paws. Being a fairly large dog, reaching the knob wasn't a problem.
A thought struck him. He wasn't even sure what breed of dog he was. Once again, he wished he could have gotten into the bathroom and gotten a look at himself in a mirror.
He heard a click as he tried to turn the knob with his paws.