Mike continued to sit on his haunches on the warm pavement as he focused on his problem.
Self-recrimination wasn't helping matters, so he tried to review his options. He needed the help of one of his former kind...a human being who could use a partnership of brain and opposable thumbs to operate the Chronivac, with better luck, it was to be hoped, than Mike.
He consider and rejected the neighbors along his street. He didn't know any of them all that well. That had been his entire purpose in getting Jake, who provided reliable company without Mike having to extend the effort or suffer the aggravation of being a sociable neighbor engaged with his community.
He didn't even have co-workers. As a self-employed freelancer, he could work from home and be his own boss. He whimpered a bit as his list of connections continued to dwindle. Once he got back on his two feet, literally and figuratively, he figured he should do something to generate some social capital.
"I guess it will have to be Manny," Mike thought about his ex.
He and Manny had never truly been official, so thinking of Manny as an ex seemed a bit of a stretch. Nevertheless, they had spent seven months together until Manny, with the realization that Mike wasn't serious about forging the strong bonds of a dedicated partnership, had kicked him out.
"I wish you the best, and I'll always be here if you need me," Manny had told him. "But it's for the best."
At the time, Mike hadn't bothered to argue with him. For a time, he'd gone back to dating women after the natural end of his "phase" with Manny. When that didn't lead to anything, he gradually stopped making an effort. His work, his home, and his dog were all that he really needed.
No wonder, Mike thought wryly, he had wanted to swap places and make Jake the owner and himself the dog. If only he hadn't fucked up his attempt to make that his new reality he wouldn't be in his current dilemma.
Manny lived in a townhouse next to a busy city park. Even without a car, it wouldn't be that difficult to get to Manny's place.
What would he do once there, though? That was the real question.
He made the equivalent of doggy laughter with a muffled "ruff, ruff" as he thought about barking out his entire story. He shook his jowl-heavy pit bull muzzle. That's not gonna work.
"If I can get my hands on a pen or pencil..." Mike began to plan only to stop short. "Hands?" He laughed again with that strange "ruff, ruff" exhalation.
"No, I can do this," he thought about it. He could hold the pen in his jaws and scribble out a message to Manny.
He didn't think too much on the practicalities. He got to all four paws and trotted in the general direction of Manny's townhouse.
He could have made better progress if he hadn't surrendered to the urge to stop and sniff every scent he encountered along the way. It was really amazing what a simple sniff with his nostrils could reveal to his new canine brain. Some of the more appealing scents caused wagging of his tail and drooling from his mouth. Others caused a sense of unease in his newly subservient self.
He reached the park without incident, but then his luck changed. He heard voices of dozens of people, as well as their pets. Families at the playground, joggers on the paved trails, pampered pets in the enclosed dog run.
He ignored it all in his determination to press on to Manny's place when suddenly a sharp pain to his right flank stopped him. He growled and snapped, thinking some unseen insect had bitten or stung him. Suddenly something pinged the back of his skull so hard the noise echoed in his ears. He heard laughter and turned to see two pre-teen boys, one of them holding an air rifle in a casual manner, the barrel pointed at the ground for the moment.
Mike stared at them but turned to continue his journey. A fresh sting jolted his right flank. He whirled, growled, and advanced on the two hoodlums. The boy with the gun lowered it and ran to catch up with his faster friend.
Mike barked furiously. "You little bastards! Maybe I look you both up when I'm back to my old self!"
He knew the pellets had only been propelled by compressed air, but hell if they didn't still hurt.
His noisy reaction had attracted some attention. He heard an odd click and turned toward the trash cans adjacent to a picnic pavilion. A city park employee spoke into some sort of hand-held radio. "We've got a stray dog over here near Pavilion Two. Can you send someone?"
Mike, realizing that the employee meant him, decided he didn't want to wait around for "someone" to show up. He sped through the park and continued his trip to Manny's.