The newly formed raptor heard whistling from the side but didn't need to turn his head to see where it came from. There was a stone hut to his right; a woman in a fur onesie was standing in the open door with a large bone in her hair. She was looking straight at him, whistling and calling her pet's name.
"Chompy, come here boy! Dinner time!"
To his left side, near a wide dirt road, his other eye could see a mailbox, with some text carved in it:
MR & MRS SLATEROCK
7 TRILOBITEWAY.
Oh man! This was where the Chronivac said he lived now. This device had really changed his name. It had really given him owners. He could even feel a stone ring around his long neck that hadn't been there before--most likely his collar!
'I'm a prehistoric family's dino pet!' he thought. She whistled out and called his name again, wanting him to follow her inside. He decided he should probably try to be a good boy. He bounded up to her on his long raptor legs, dangling his clawed arms underneath him. Running was strange for him in such a bent-over posture, but his long tail kept him balanced.
"Felicia! Feed that scaly mutt and be done with it, will ya? I'm tryin' to concentrate!" came a male voice from another room.
"No worries, Warren!" Felicia called back. "Come on, boy," she said to Chompy, "we've got your dinner in the kitchen." She picked up a giant bone with an even larger hunk of meat on the end, lifted it out of the pot, and dangled it in front of him. Chompy hissed expectantly, smelling the most succulent flesh he could imagine right in front of him.
"Ah-ah-ah! Speak, Chompy," she teasingly commanded, lifting up the meat. Chompy, who'd been a computer-age human teenager only minutes before, rolled his eyes at the realization that he would have to do tricks for his dinner. But then, a well-trained pet really doesn't have to do much else. This could turn out to be an easier lifestyle, if he gave it a chance. Chompy yelped out his best raptor-voice imitation of a bark, and stuck out his long pointed orange tongue as if he were panting. He even debased himself enough to swing his long tail back-and-forth where she could see it, just to complete the begging-puppy-dog look.
"Good boy!" she beamed and dropped the cliche-looking stone-age meated bone right into a large stone bowl beneath her. Chompy saw his name on it, carved in large letters on the rough gray rock. He immediately stuck his muzzle into the bowl and chowed down, and somewhat to his chagrin, found himself wagging his tail for real, so much that he accidentally knocked over a vase through the doorway, back in the living room. It clattered to the ground.
"FE-LISH-AAAAHH!!" called Warren from the hidden room. Chompy wagged his tail and chuckled in his hissing raptor voice.
"Alright, now let's get you out for the night before Warren blows a gasket," she laughed, leading Chompy to the door by the collar, after he'd wolved down the meat and even swallowed the bone. She led him outside with a stone bowl of water, closed the stone door behind her, and left him there under the stars for the night. Chompy scratched on the stone for a little while, but realized he might as well curl up on the step and get some sleep.
The next morning...