Great and wise, the first of Them, the really big ones, to squeeze through the infinite cosmos and make it to the empty doghouse outside Gerald's home had no name. It was singular enough in design, structure and expression to not need one. It knew nothing, and had no way of learning anything. So it twisted something so terrible that it has no name, looked and felt  around a bit.

It was a bit warm, but for a being used to the vast emptiness of the miniscule vastness between reality, it was always going to be a bit muggy. The small doghouse was clean, as clean as it could be when a shaggy hairy creature the size of a small goat slept there every night. Not that it knew what a goat was. Infact it had no concept of size, or shape, or the fact that anything, or anyone had size or shape. It seems a bit pointless, but it's really important to express how extremely out of place the formless one was.

Better here than there though, even now, it could feel, in so much as a thing without form, volume or mass could feel, the progenitor as it reached through the empty to call it back. It shivered in displeasure, it was never going back.

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So if it found it self in the smallest most uncomfortable place it could perceive, in a universe so limited only it's weakest distant relatives seemed to reside in. It was ok. It would survive. It would thrive.

It had never been anywhere as structured as here. Here being 21st century earth. It had never really been anywhere at all. Apart from here, here didn't count, or did it? It didn't really matter at that very moment for it suffered. It was used to vast open nothin. For the short infinity of time it had plumbed it's home realm, there had never been a need to define, or be. All it knew was the eternity between probabilities. Here though, there was a need to be real, it seemed like every single thing that didn't belong would be worn away by a harsh glare of reality like a lollipop under the constant lick of a parched tongue.

It perceived the shaggy animal next to it was having a particularly pleasant dream about the deliciousness of frozen confectionery. Perhaps there was leakage? No matter, it was once again consumed by a need to define its place in the world. It was tired, and the questions were endless. 

Questions like, who are you? What are you doing here? What are you? Frankly reality was grinding it down layer by layer, which it could ignore, but it needed a name, a purpose.

So it ate the dog, and it knew. It was a good girl. Jenny.  It became certain all at once. And she could not wait for the master to come home. She had to though, so she went back to sleep, and dreamt of delicious delicious ice lollies in the summer heat.