About an hour after lunch, Josh dropped by the kennel and took me on a walk. I love these one one-on-one

times together. We don’t get nearly as many chances to simply hang out together as we used to. I

understand, but it still makes me sad. I think it bothers him, too. He has been so busy working with

genetic sequencing and DNA analysis. When I was very young and the only puppy in the place, he would

read Dr. Seuss's books to me. I would lay across his lap, spellbound by the pictures. I remember how

excited he became when I finally could pick out the letters and words. He then moved to a set of spelling

“flashcards”. I would press my paw on them to form words and sentences to communicate more

complex ideas. The talking came later. I had finished the curriculum of a human eighth

grader by the time I was two. A year later, done with high school, we have yet to find a suitable

substitute for showing our deep affection for one another. A pat on the head just isn’t the same. Walking

together seems to be the closest we can come to the way things were before. I guess that happens a lot

with fathers and daughters.

I know Josh is frustrated that he cannot duplicate the mysterious circumstances that allowed me to get so

smart. It is strange for me, too. Part of me fears that if he can do it again, I won’t be as special

to him as I am. Concern was also evident on his face as we turned off the busy street that

housed our laboratory and started up the hill into the residential neighborhoods behind us.

“I want to thank you, Joan, for being willing to talk to that lady today,” he began as he reached over to

unclip the leash from my collar. I stopped, allowing him to grab the little metal fastener. “She

maybe able to get us some more funding.”

“Josh, you know I will do whatever you need me to do,” I replied, “It just caught me by surprise.”

“Me too, actually,” he said with a grimace, “I hate being put in that position, but the research is

stalled, and, as you know, time is running out.”

“We’ve talked about ways I could solve that problem, Josh,” I replied. “I bet several late-night talkshows would

pay a mint to get me on..... If they knew I existed, that is.”

“Don’t you think you are somewhat overqualified for a segment on stupid pet tricks, Joan?” He laughed.

“It doesn’t matter to me,” I replied, “If I can help you. I’ll do whatever it takes. You deserve recognition

for your accomplishments with me. Everyone would know what a genius you are!”

“And they would expect me to do it again... which I can’t. At least yet,” he said. There seems to be

something unique about you, Joan.”

“I’m sure you will figure it out,” I replied as we turned onto another Berkeley street lined with tall old

trees. It was all I could do not to bolt after a squirrel that ran across the sidewalk in front of us. Live and

let live. Following my gaze, Josh looked over at me and smiled.

“That’s hard for you, isn’t it?” he observed.

“Well, I know what you expect of me if that’s what you mean”. I replied. “That makes it an obvious

decision. It would be fun to see if I could catch him, but I know if I did, it would be impossible not to

hurt him. I wouldn’t want to hurt something without a good reason. After all, I’ve already had lunch,” I

joked.

Josh finished the rest of our walk, lost in the silence of his thoughts. I padded quietly at his side. It made

him happy for me to do so. That was enough for me.

The next couple of days went by pretty fast, by my standards. Jimmy was working on some “major

improvements” to the electronic mouth and so I didn’t get to use it. Josh seemed to be spending most of

his time on the phone. Since our research funding had dried up he was engaged in a process he

laughingly called “Dialing for Dollars”. One of his most promising leads was a guide dog for the blind

breeding and training center in nearby Berkeley. A couple of their people been over to visit and showed

great interest in the way the other dogs in the place responded to new training and commands. By normal

dog standards even they were very fast learners. Now that money was tight, I hoped that they wouldn’t

have to be sold. A few of them were my brothers and sisters, not that we are close or anything.

Josh had implored me to stay well out of the way while the guide dog people were around. This had

proved to be harder than you might expect for me. Intrinsically, I am very curious and friendly. I find

myself fascinated and excited by the thought of meeting new people, especially people that like dogs.

They give off a particular smell and I can tell almost instantly when I run into someone who understands

that we are indeed man’s best friends.

Of course the opposite is true as well. When a person is afraid of an animal and become hostile,

they set off a chain reaction of scents and body language that has an

interesting effect on the dormant recessive wolf inside me. Sometimes this feels like a strange soft

tugging deep within my subconscious that makes me want to grab them by the throat. I’ve been struggling

to put it into words but I think you get the idea. It is something you probably can’t fully understand unless

your ancestors hunted in packs. I’m just glad it doesn’t happen very often.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Since the guys were busy a lot of the time, Amanda, the third human member of our little cadre, bore the

brunt of keeping up with the day to day requirements of feeding and caring for the rest of us. That chore

list included six other dogs other than myself. Amanda is the patron saint of dogs, at least this one. She

has a degree in veterinary medicine and doubles as our receptionist when she is not working her fingers to

the bone elsewhere in the building. I am not complaining, but it is so typically male to leave all the little

necessary chores to a woman. She works so hard because she really cares about the dogs at this place,

especially me. Another motivating factor for her is that she is interested in Jimmy. She has never told

him but figured out early that you can’t hide this kind of a thing from a dog. Amanda is smart. Really, I

think human men may be the densest animals on the planet. She has sworn me to silence on the subject

and I haven’t given away her secret, yet, but I’m tempted. I think they would make a great couple.

They had met while attending Cal Poly SLO and become friends of vehicular convenience. Since both of

them were from the San Francisco Bay area, Jimmy had bummed several rides back and forth to SLO

during school breaks in Amanda’s little Japanese car. This was, of course, before my time. After college

Amanda landed the job here working with Josh at “Dogs R Us” and when an electronics engineering guy

was needed she thought of Jimmy. Josh was a Cal Berkeley genetics grad and was glad to get another

egghead involved in his work. The result of their cumulative efforts was a method to electronically

stimulate certain nerve center clusters in dogs that had been biologically and genetically enhanced by

adding a few key sequences of human DNA. That is: the result was me. The problem was that they

couldn’t do it again. Several complete litters of puppies had been lost to complications from genetic

breakdown. Those that survived never responded as I did to the surgery. They were smarter, just not

smart enough. I guess lighting only does strike once.

Since Josh and Jimmy were otherwise occupied, Amanda took the opportunity to put me through some

more tests, including a couple of MRI’s. Josh and Amanda were primarily interested in some deep scans

of my brain trying to figure out what structures were in place that allow me to do the voodoo that I do.

The part I liked best about the MRI process was that the machine that we had arranged to use is not in our

complex, but in downtown Walnut Creek. This meant that Amanda took me for several rides in the car.

We got to go on the freeway!

Riding in a car is so fun it ought to be illegal. The variety of sights and smells along the way were almost

overwhelming. I prefer to stand with my front paws on the armrest. I have always appreciated that

human seat belt laws don’t apply to dogs. I guess I might feel differently if I’d ever flown through a

windshield. Since I looked like a normal dog, Amanda was able to take me by herself to the

appointments. Our cover story was that I was owned by an eccentric and wealthy client that was also an

elderly hypochondriac. She had been reading pet disease books and had transferred her desire to be poked

and prodded by the medical profession, vicariously to me, her beloved companion. As I said before,

Amanda drove a little Japanese car and even though she wasn’t supposed to, she let me stick my head out

of the window. I guess she found this preferable to me getting wet nose snail trails all over the inside of

her glass.

Once we got to the hospital I was on my best behavior. Even though the hospital was being paid for the

services, the head of the Magnetic Resonance Imaging department was actually one of Josh’s friends from

his Cal days. He had arranged this private use of the machine and was probably taking a risk doing so.

There is always someone who feels spending money for a test like this on an animal is a waste when there

are sick people around. I personally thought I was the one taking the risk. MRI machines are usually

lethal to anyone with brain implants. Jimmy had assured me that because my implants were made of

titanium and nano-coated there was almost no risk. I still glanced nervously at the large sign warning

patients to make sure they wore no metal or had never worked around a grinder. But then, I had done this

once before. Sometimes it doesn’t pay to read too much.

An MRI is a very noisy thing to undergo, especially for a dogs sensitive hearing. They had made me

some special ear plugs, but the first time I had one, I thought I would not make it out alive. They had

also tied me down pretty tight so I wouldn’t move which added to my feeling claustrophobic and

helpless. For this round, they had decided to make concessions to my hatred of the straps as long as I

promised to lie still. They also injected me with some sort of tracer dye to enhance the imaging. That

didn’t bother me much as I’ve been poked with needles for almost my entire life and I am used to it by

now but I’m not staying I like it. I also don’t like walking on a leash, but like I said, some things are

expected of me.

As we were leaving the medical building Amanda’s phone rang. Since we were alone on the walkway

path leading to the parking garage she looked at the caller ID first and then down at me.

“It’s Jimmy” she said answering the phone. “Hello Jim” she said brightly. Immediately a look of deep

concern washed over her face. She stopped mid-step jerking on my collar. I cocked my head and

strained to hear but the volume of her phone was too low.

“What do you mean don’t come back?” she asked anxiously. “Jimmy, what’s this all about?” A strange

popping noise was coming out of the phone, one I could hear. Then, there was silence. Amanda snapped

the phone shut and took off at a trot, looking startled and upset. I had no trouble at all keeping up. Her

eyes darted about, nervously searching every door and window around us in the complex as her speed

increased and we almost bolted for the car. Only once inside did she speak again.

“Joan, we’re in trouble. Something has gone horribly wrong over at the lab and I... I think I heard

gunshots.” her voice cracked and her face contorted as she came to the realization of what she had just

said.

I blinked. “Yims hokay” I said, trying to feel confident. She nodded quickly but her body language said

otherwise as she paid and drove rapidly from the parking structure. This time I didn’t stick my head out

the window.