My aunt must have let me sleep in because I woke up on my own the following morning. It is a dreamless sleep this time around, thankfully. I can't help but wonder if I may have made a breakthrough after all this time. Granted, I can't truly say I remember much but even the small flashes are more than I've known in the past half year.

After getting ready, I walk downstairs and greet my aunt and uncle and let them know that I am awake. Both of them are sitting in the kitchen and my aunt is talking in a cooing voice saying, "who is so good? Who is being good?" As I walk around the corner getting a better view of eating area, I looked to see that she's actually talking towards the floor.

"Aunt Cissy? What…are you doing?" I asked hesitantly.

"What does it look like, dear? I am talking to your furry little friend." Aunt Cissy continues to coo at ‘my furry friend’, not giving me a glance. I continue to walk closer to the table and as I round it, I notice that my companion from last night is indeed sitting in front of aunt Cissy. Uncle George, who is quiet up until now, chimes in, "Your aunt there, decides to feed your canine friend this morning when he didn’t leave. As soon as she opened the door to give him a plate of food, he just waltzed right in as if he owned the place." Uncle George states in his astonished and very prim Kiwi accent. “Cheeky, little bastard, if you ask me but he's well behaved at least." It’s his way of stating approval of our house guest as he continues to fix another cuppa for himself.

I look down at the dog incredulously for coming inside the house as he pleases but I guess it’s my aunt's decision to let him in and my uncle’s to agree. I shake my head and sit down at my normal spot, which happens to be right next to the indulgent Weimaraner. Said dog looks up at me with his very expressive eyebrows as if to say "What? Is there a problem?"

My uncle is right; he is pretty cheeky. I realize I have been calling it a ‘he’ suddenly and for some reason, his antics does suit him to be a male dog. A snooty male dog from his antics. I grab the table and bend at my waist as I look down suddenly to confirm whether or not he is in fact a he.

“Ha! Called it!” I right myself in my chair and look down at the canine smugly. The funny thing is, the dog looks indignantly at me - if a dog can even be indignant - as if it say, "How rude! Do not do that!"

I hold up my hands in apologetic surrender and chortle to myself. The dog sniffs out loud, almost indignatly as though this whole situation was ridiculous and returns to eat his food primly. I glance down and notice there are scramble eggs and ‘bangers’ leftover from breakfast on his plate.

"Oi, aren't you spoiled?" I exclaimed at the dog. He looks affronted by my tone and comment and I couldn’t help but egg him on with, “yeah, you heard me.”

I know it's a dog and it can't understand me but I'll talk to it like any other person.

Cissy chimes in, "he didn't feel like eating anything else we had, so I just fed him what was leftover from our meals.” I just look at the Weimaraner canine and shake my head in disapproval while the dog sniffs loudly at my judgment. I roll my eyes at that statement and I couldn’t fathom what would possess my aunt to comply with the whims this dog. Almost as if he can hear my eyes roll up in my head, said dog quickly looks at me and tilts his head again as though I'm the one that is being weird.

“Are we having a bit of a tiff with the hound?” Uncle George asks, folding down his newspaper that he’s reading to look over at me.

“I’m just pointing out how ridiculous it is for a dog that was homeless for, god knows how long, to suddenly turn up his nose at good, free food he doesn’t have to scrounge up for himself.”

Is it just me or am I the only one that sees the absurdity of this whole situation? I suddenly feel like maybe I am a little more than crazy with my memory loss because I’m starting to consider that this dog may understand us and have mind controlling powers over my family. Or maybe I'm finally losing it and projecting my insecurities onto this this.

Yeah, that's gotta be it.

“Oh, I’m sure now that he knows that he’s getting his four square meals a day for the foreseeable future, he finally feels comfortable enough to be choosy.” Aunt Cissy defends the stray in that saccharine sweet tone.

“Wait, four? And did you say ‘foreseeable future,’ as in we’re keeping him? I thought you were just feeling sorry for him, feed him a bit and then send him on his stray way!” I say incredulously.

Seriously? Now, I’m really starting to believe my mind control theory! This is ludicrous!

“How can I send away a cute puppy like this?” Cissy kneels down and ruffles the top of the dog's head. My frown deepens when said dog some how looks even more smug at the adoration he's receiving.

“Ugh, I should have known.” I mutter to no one in particular. She has such a bleeding heart for pathetic creatures to coddle, like me for example.

“Well, aren’t you just an everyday Lucky-Lucy.” Uncle George chimes in nonchalantly as he's passing by to grab a second round. Oddly enough, the dog’s ears perk up and looks straight at him as he passes with wide eyes as though Uncle George just zaps him with static shock. The canine resumes looking at Aunt Cissy for praise and affection but I'm vary curious to test out the waters of something.

“Lucky-Lucy…?” I say hesitantly watching the dog closely.

My repetition garners both the attention of the furry beast and my uncle flips down the corner of his paper once again to arch a questioning eyebrow at me, then the dog, “Well, have a look at that. I think you may have found a name for him.”

“What, Lucy?” I was taken aback by the sudden proclamation.

“Don’t be a daft-duck!” he phishaws at me with his rhyme. “I meant the name, Lucky.”

“Oh, no! I think this mutt deserves the name ‘Lucy’ much more for his prissy pickiness and I’m sticking with it!” I say with finality but notice the dog's ears and attention do, in fact, perk up each time I say ‘Lucy’.

Odd.

“But Lucy’s no name for a male dog.” My aunt tries to argue the point but my mind is set.

“Don’t care, Aunt Cissy, don’t care.” I wave off her protest offhandedly and turn my nose up just as the dog would do to mediocre food. “I’ve made up my mind and since I have to tolerate his presence, he can tolerate my choice for his name. Plus, he’s a dog! What does he care?”

Honestly, this dog is barging into my life and throwing it out of whack all of a sudden, in exchange for a cush lifestyle. I'm sure he'll put up with a lot of things if he was actually conscious of such things.

“Oh, okay.” My aunt finally relents and gives her trademark end-of-discussion-closer, “Whatever makes you happy, dear.”

“I’m gonna go for a walk. I’ll be back.” I say resolutely as I get up but Lucy quickly follows my lead and I hear the tell-tale clip-clopping of his feet against the wooden floor. Just before I reach the door, I hear Aunt Cissy call out, “Oh, and take the dog out as well!”

I grumble as I grab my coat and gloves, swinging the door wide open for the two of us and lead the way. He rushes out the door before I could even tell him to stop and heads around to the grassy side of the house. When I go to see where he’s gone, the dog had just finished marking his territory behind a tree. I swear to god, he notices me and glares at me for overstepping his privacy. Again, I sigh and shake my head as I turn around again and wait for him at the top of the stairs.

Why I’m giving this mutt his space is beyond me. Fine, I’ll admit, I’m not quite ready to warm up to another pet, but he’s a bit more finicky than any cat I know! It’s actually quite amazing how particular he is about everything and I’ve only been around him for a day. Despite his quirks, I can’t help but comply and scratch my head at his antics.

When the pale furry hunting dog returns, I can almost see that same glare that he gave me a moment ago behind the tree and I snap at him, “Oh, give it a rest!” It was at that point that I realized I was berating a dog, based on my belief that I think it is actually judging me with his expressive gaze. In reality, it may be like a baby and only make expressions based on their indigestion and gas. Whatever the case here, I seem to interpret his expressions - if you can even call it that - as human. Maybe we can chalk up all my crazy thoughts as an unfortunate side effect of my amnesia.

“Let’s go, mutt.”

At least it’s a nice day today. The sun is out and not too intense; it’s a bit overcast with a chilly breeze to keep us at a cool, comfortable temperature while we walk down the avenue of decorative flowering trees. I look down to see how Lucy is doing at my side and how he is taking in his surroundings.

I wonder if he has been here before? I don’t know. He doesn’t seem to take any interest in the sites around him. Is he as pensive as I am about these places? It’s rather odd for a dog, I would think, since he’s not sniffing or even straying from the path for that matter. Well, at least I don’t have to worry about keeping him on a leash or wandering off.

When we turn into a park that I frequent every now and again, following the path to a wooden bridge that takes us to a nice grassy area. Crossing over the bridge, it’s the first time that I see a glimmer of Lucy’s interest since we began our promenade. We walk to a spot at the base of a hill that is surrounded by sweet, fragrant flowers and a flat plush grassy area that would be ideal for napping or setting up a picnic.

“Aunt Cissy says that I used to come and play here at this spot when I was a kid and the park itself used to be like my backyard when I was growing up.” I say offhandedly to no one in particular but look down at Lucy for affirmation. “I honestly don’t remember any of that or my parents but I come by to see if I can spark some memory buried beneath all my trauma.”

I lean down towards a bunch of brightly colored yellow flowers and inhale its delicate fragrance. As a single flower, the scent is soft and sweet but in a cluster. In this case, a ring of bushes around the area leaves a heavy, heady perfume that permeates and beckons those that catch its alluring note in the wind. I look behind me to call Lucy over and point out the flowers when I notice he’s not behind me. In fact, scanning the perimeter, he’s not within sight but looking up the hill I see Lucy running up the slope.

“Damn it, dog, I should have put you on a leash.” I grumble under my breath and brace myself for the incline I’ll have to endure to get my wayward canine. I take a huge breath and grit my teeth and start to trudge up the hill, each step burning unused muscles I forget I even have.

“I’m going to kill that dog,” I think to myself as I am huffing and puffing up the steep slope, “if it’s the last thing I do!”

I finally make it to the crest of the hill and see a white splotch zooming towards the top where I am pretty sure is a sharp drop off. I am suddenly filled with dread and pick up my pace to catch him.

“Lucy, stop!” I yell at the top of my lungs. My heart stops hoping that he listens even if he’s only ever heard his new name two times.

Luckily, he does stop.

Lucy then turns towards me and barks as if to say, ‘come over and hurry up!’

“Whew!” I realize that I’m so filled with relief but I’m still pretty P.O.ed that he ran off like that. Jesus, what was that all about?

Probably a squirrel.

I look around and see nothing of interest but jog up to Lucy in case he gets any funny ideas about running off again. When I get there, I am so exhausted and happy that he’s just sitting and waiting as I collapse on my knees and hug him.

“You crazy, crazy mutt! What if you had not stopped in time and fell off!” I mutter into his fur, but I feel Lucy put a paw up to push me away and trying to get free.

I sigh and roll my eyes at him as he tries to pull away, his anxious actions saying, ‘that’s enough’ and looks off the side of the cliff as though something has his attention. I look out of curiosity to see if there really is something out there and a glint off the cliff and in the middle of the sky catches my eye.

“What…?”

The longer I stare at the glint, really squint at it, I feel as though my imagination takes over and a flash of a circular shape appears to flash before my eyes out of the blue. I blink my eyes and look at the bright shape floating over the chasm like a holographic 2D mirage and I’m transfixed by the apparition before me.

“God, I must be dehydrated from that sprint up hill because I'm hallucinating things, now.” I mumble to myself and look down at Lucy. Oddly enough, he’s looking at the same direction as I am. He raises his fuzzy eyebrows as well making his expression seem curious, almost human.

I see another image in my mind's eye of a similar glowing door: at its sides, shining white trees growing tall and then bushing into an arch until the branches intertwine with each other. As the branches grow larger and the foliage thickens, and the branches start to sprout out leaves and buds. The flowers then finally bloom, glow, and begin to pulsate. Growing brighter and brighter until I touch it and then there is a huge flash.

I wake up from my daydream and look down to find Lucy is not besides me anymore. He’s walking closer to the edge again!

Really, dog?!

“Lucy, get back here!” I hiss at him as he inches closer and closer. “Don’t get too close!”

Lucy was just about at the cliff’s edge and I do the only thing I can think of doing in my panic scramble after him is to grab his tail before he gets too close. He stops dead in his tracks and looks shocked before he turns and glares daggers at me - if dogs can even do that. I drop my hands instantly because I know that couldn’t have been all that comfortable but I had nothing else I could grab onto in my panic to stop him.

“Fine, don’t like me doing that? Next time, listen.” I said tritely. Granted, I know if I did that to my late cat, Isis, I’d have been bitten and scratched to bits since she didn’t listen to me in the first place. I’ve had my fair share of beatings from my other pet so this would be nothing compared to what I was dealt in the past but at least he fall off the cliff side.

“Come on, let’s head back.” I think the hallucinations are a good sign that I’ve had enough exploring for today and I am left to worry about Lucy’s common sense is more than enough action for one day.