I was back with my family again. I didn’t know how I got there, I was just happy to be back. They pet me and filled my food bowl with tasty kibble and told me I was a good, good dog. Everything was back to how it was before I was sent away. Then, in a blur, I watched the collapse of my life. Callie and George went away and came back smiling with a bundle, which I learned was an infant. I decided I would do whatever I could to keep it safe. But the smiles soon disappeared off Callie and George’s faces. They started yelling at each other. It was a nightmare all over again. I moved toward them to try to calm them down, but I fell down, through the floor, away from my family, into the lab. I hit the floor with a yelp. Now, instead of being with my family, I was with the doctors. Their harsh grip, their chemical smell, their disapproving faces. All of it was horrible. Then they started yelling too, and this time it was at me. They yelled that I was a bad dog, that I wouldn’t get any food tonight, and then, “Wake up. Wake up, stupid,” over and over. I awoke with a start, back into the lab. A doctor towed over me, nudging me with his foot. “Number 34. Wake up and come on.” This was my life now. I whimpered and followed him.
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