Being the dog and letting Jake be the human was just as fun as Mike thought it would be--for the first day or two. By the fourth of fifth day, the new was really wearing off. He was still enjoying the experience overall, to be sure, but it was kind of spooky how quickly he'd fully satisfied his split-second pie-in-the-sky curiosity about his pet's life and moved on to just taking the perks for granted and putting up with the inconveniences. Jake's old routine was becoming Mike's new daily grind.
The first time he went over to Jake's food and water bowls, he was anxious about whether it might be gross. Now, it was just habit. The first time Jake took him out on a leash, it was like an acid trip because the smells were overwhelming and no one cared if he was naked. Now, it was still fun, but it was fun in the same way a human would check their social media feed. He knew where to find the other dog's scent markings, and he knew where to leave his own. He looked forward to turning each corner and finding out who'd already been there, who hadn't, who'd been sick and got better, whose owner had put them on a different diet, who was vying for top dog, who had scored some hot sex, and who was in heat looking to get some. He looked forward to posting an update on the next bush, the next tree trunks, the next fire hydrant. And most of all, he looked forward to finishing his walk and hearing Jake pour him a heaping bowl of kibble.
Mike noticed that Jake had adjusted seamlessly to life as a human, which shouldn't have been surprising since Mike had set Jake's awareness to off. When Jake was hungry, he knew where to order takeout. When Jake was bored, he knew where Mike's old sports video games were (because he thought they had always been his). When the mail came, Jake new which ones were bills he had to pay and which ones were junk mail. When Mike would stop to sniff a random spot and lift a leg, Jake would be on his smartphone flipping through his social media feed. Jake had a habit of complaining about his job and the traffic and the junk mail, but no more than Mike had. He played fetch with Mike in the dog park, and he knew just where to throw it to make it good exercise for Mike. And Mike absolutely loved being the one to do the running in that game, but the blindingly fast speed of a dog was just what Mike expected running to feel like now, and he no longer thought twice about picking up a dirty stick in his mouth.
Mike had felt sneaky the first morning he didn't have to shower up, try to find a clean outfit, and hurry out for his morning commute before dawn. He used to envy Jake for being able to lounge around all like a dog all morning. But he'd quickly discovered just how boring and lonely it could be for a dog while his master was away for all those hours. Fortunately, he'd learned to fill the time napping, chewing on his squeaky toys, sniffing the furniture, or when all else fails, just spinning around and chasing his own tail. He was sure that whenever Jake eventually turned him back into a human, he would miss having a permanently installed toy on his rear end! He'd come to just implicitly assume that it was always back there for him to thump against the floor, wag around in the free air, or catch between his fearsome teeth.
It was still embarrassing sometimes to take his regularly scheduled poo out in full view of the neighborhood, and even more so watching Jake pick it up the warm, smell mass that came out of him and put it in a bag. His own former pet now has to clean up after him! But that's the order of things now. Mike makes a mess, and Jake cleans it up. Jake goes to work or to party on the weekend, and Mike waits expectantly for hm to come home. Jake locks the door at night, and Mike barks if he smells or hears any intruders getting to close. Jake uses the Chronivac in ways Mike wouldn't have thought of (and never knows about if reality is altered), and Mike wonders if Jake is still okay with being the human if they're about to change back.