It's free play for nearly an hour with you and the other dogs romping about and sniffing butt. You vaguely are
aware of the names both human and dog that their trainers shout, but in your mind scent-based images unique to
each beast form in lieu of traditional names.
The hour is over. Suddenly, the human is there. He gently but firmly hold your head and strokes your body. A
leash is clipped to your collar.
He says, "Alright, girl, first things first. Starting now, your name is Lady.
Holding your head between his hands, he says, "Yes, Lady. You're my Lady. Lady, lady, lady."
Your name is Lady. You are happy.
The next few hours are spent playing and learning commands. You quickly master the art of sitting, staying,
heeling, and fetch.
Fetch is fun. You fetch balls. You fetch sticks. You learn to fetch your master's slippers. There are dozens
of slippers across the room. You recognize the master's by scent. They mix them up, but you find the right
pair each time.
You're panting and thirsty at midday. Your trainer gives you water and sits with your head resting in his lap.
The scent emanating from his crotch is soothing, masculine, human, and commanding. For the first time in your
life you have a real sense of belonging. As you sit on your haunches with your nose buried between his legs,
you stare up at his face. It looks different from your dog perspective, but it looks familiar. Slowly your
human memory of colors and shapes meshes with your canine memory of monochrome and scents. Your eyes widen for
a moment, you hold your breath. Your heart skips a beat. You know this man.
Your moment of panic passes. You breathe in your master's calming scent. It's good to be owned. You feel a
sense that you will always be owned. Part of your human self echoes a warning, but your canine self doesn't
care. Loyalty to one's master is absolute. You nuzzle your master's crotch burying your nose deeper. His
bulge responds to the attention by swelling. You forget who he was, and remember only who he is- at least for
now.