Unfortunately, when I wake up the next morning, I am once again in my canine state. To say that I am disappointed is an understatement. Perhaps yesterday’s events are all a dream. I would say that having a dream that vivid would seem unlikely but I would argue, so is waking up to find that you are a dog. I am still on the plush chair by her beside and the girl's arm is firmly latched to my hands, paws, making it nearly impossible to move. I give a little whine while I struggle to free myself as there is nothing like an annoying high pitch sound to wake you someone from their slumber. On cue, after a few failed attempts to get up from under her hand - honestly, her grip is like a steel clamp - she releases me and I scurry away before she decides to make a grab for another limb. I turn to the door slowly opening and the girl’s aunt’s face appears as she looks in on us. She sees that I am awake and ushers me out of the room.

“Come on. Let’s take you outside for a bathroom break and I can give you some nommy nommy breakfast.”

This woman, Cissy talks to me as though I am a child when in reality, I’m sure I’m around her age. Granted she doesn’t know that or that I’m human but no matter. I’m not sure if animals are treated like children or lesser beings but being talked down to in this manner is rather degrading and obnoxious. Still, I put up with it only because there is the promise of food hidden behind all that syrupy, toothsome drivel she spews out.

I eat my breakfast of bacon, fried eggs, and bits of sausage slowly, listening to the couple talk about the day’s plans in hopes to learn more about the girl. Honestly, most of it was droll until the one called ‘George’, mentions her condition. Something about ‘retrograde amnesia’ and how her ‘post-traumatic stress disorder’ causes her to have nightmares. In all honesty, I cannot make heads from tails about his story but store that tidbit in my memory, none the less. 

Perhaps, I may, too, have that, plus my added furry affliction. Something I will have to figure out at a later date. The two talk about her progress - very little apparently - but I can’t help but look up at the mention of my name - what an embarrassing name to answer - but I can’t very well, tell them that in this state.

“Lucy’s been a real help in getting her back on track.” George comments while looking at the paper

“Troublesome thing, that memory of hers.” Cissy responds, a bit worried as she scrambles the eggs. “I just want to make sure to keep an eye on her progress.”

“Of course, dear.”

“There you are, Lucy.” Cissy croons as she drops the freshly cooked eggs and bacon on my plate. It is still rather hot, so I have no complaints, I suppose.

Once again, the two start to talk about mundane topics such as a neighbors grass growing too wildly and needs to be cut down before it gets out of control and how disappointed they are that the wall with many fractures is not falling down sooner to build anew. Cissy settles back down at the table and picks up the paper and finds the section that she was looking for as she talks to her husband. Upon first glance, it looks like advertisement but upon closer inspection, I can tell it is only the trash news section from the gaudy images on the front and tacky font splashed across the page. Typical for someone like her. And so it goes…

I hear movement upstairs that is indicative of only one thing; the girl is awake. No sooner had the thought springs to mind, I hear her making her way down the stairs looking a bit tired despite being fully dressed and ready to go. “I’ll skip breakfast this morning. I’m having a hard time waking up fully and I think a walk to the bakery ought to help.”

“I’ll say. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen you awake before 11:00am. Well, done. Take Lucy with you as I’m sure he can walk off all the food he wolfed down just before you joined us.” George says with approval.

I was a bit affronted by the statement as I don’t ‘wolf down’ my food. I simply can’t stop my canine mannerisms and it just looks like I have not gag-reflex as everything goes down the hatch. I turn my nose high in the air and stride into the living room to sit at the base of the coat rack waiting for the girl to latch that annoying leash on my collar. The girl lackadaisical grabs the leash with the same lackluster and makes her way to the door. Just as we’re stepping out, her aunt wishes her a good day, but all the girl can do is mumbling something unintelligible before closing the door behind her.

I don’t know what bakery she is looking to stop at but I do recall one I passed by a few weeks prior that had the most divine aroma wafting from its confines. I would stop not only for a glimpse of something that I could no longer enjoy, well, not without a generous donation from a patron. By generous donation, I mean the fools that were clumsy enough to not realize the generous butter content of each delectable morsel - each with a lovely golden sheen that is delicate despite its robust flavor - makes it susceptible to being brittle and crumbles easily. I would only need to position myself within reach of the forgotten delectable to satiate my hunger.

I start walking in the direction of that same bakery in hopes of having another taste of: multicolored macarons with their marange like outer shell and soft chewy center in the middle, slightly crunchy peanut butter cookies,  bits and pieces of various tarts fallen away and offer enough samples for me to enjoy briefly. My palette has a special memory for each and every flavorful morsel and my legs are taking me straight to the source, despite having to drag an unwilling passenger. Granted, I could tell she did not want to go here originally, yet my authority as hungry canine and size outweighs her meager whim and now she resigns herself to running alongside me. None of that really matters as I zero in on my destination.

There! I see the glossy windows that promise a culinary experience as good as it looks on display and the sweet aroma adds fuel to each step as I get closer. When I’m finally in front of the main window display, I suddenly stop and sit, watching as the girl curses as she almost runs me over and actually side steps out of the way of my stationary body. I pant loudly both from the exercise as well as trying to take in as much of that wonderful scent that is emanating from the shop.

“Well, this is what I get for talking around in circles for weeks now and letting someone else take the reins.” The girl says to herself a bit breathless and gives accusatory glance my way.

I just stare at her and wait for her to break eye contact before I sniffed indignantly at her. She just rolls her eyes, sighs and she walks me to the nearby lamppost and attached my leash to it. I sit patiently as she walks and mumbles, “I guess this place is as good as any.”

Feh! It’s better than the shop you were originally thinking of and you should be thanking me for the introduction. I'll be looking for my finders fee in the form of baked goods, mademoiselle.

When she walks into the shop, I sit and wait as patiently as I can in this form. I realize that I may be human originally, but I find that being a dog has had an irreversible change on my normal behavior and my inhibitions may as well not have existed if I’m suddenly struck by an amazing scent I happen to inhale. I glance around to see if anyone is walking down the small lane and look at my tether. It is held together by a metal clamp that is an odd, oblong pear-like shape with a gate or latch. It seems it can be opened with pressure, depressing the side opposite of the hinge. I place the clamp in my mouth and depress it, testing to see if my jaws can get it to open. The metal against my tongue and mouth is both disgusting and uncomfortable but innocuous in the greater scheme of things. Patisserie goods are my goal and rewards to reap.

With that accomplished, I maneuver myself so that my leash may sit on the bigger loop of the clamp and out of the way of the hinged gate. I once again stick the metallic object in my mouth and hold the gate open while I gingerly maneuvered the leash loop around and out of the edges of the clamp.

With the main obstacle taken care of, I lean against the lamp post and unravel the loose knot and jump for joy in elation! I suddenly remember myself and sniff contemptuously at my actions and sit down to regroup.

 Simmer, as you aren’t a dog and have no reason for such displays. 

Or, better yet, save it for the right moment. I look into the shop and see the girl's back as she seems to be checking out. I move out of sight of the main window and sit in a blind spot in front of the neighboring shop, waiting for the right moment.

I hear the telltale bell from the shop’s door and as soon as I see a familiar leg in my field of vision, I pounce!

“Where-Ah!” Is all she exclaims before I jump on her bearing my full size and weight on her. “Lucy!”

She is totally flabbergasted at this point as I swoop in and make a grab for all the confections that are spread around her. I apparently gobble a deliciously flakey frangipani croissant filled with a buttery, chunky almond paste baked to perfection. I chomp twice on the large baked morsel with a satisfying, crisp and swallow it whole before the girl can say a word about her lost breakfast. Having successfully complete my task, I sit cavalierly on my haunches and most undignified to my normal character, I start to lick my chops to savor every last bit of that delicious morsel.

“Lucy! Bad dog!” screeches the girl in disbelief. “I can’t believe you just did that?! That was my breakfast and you totally staged this, you little beast!”

“Excuse me, Miss?” A hesitant, yet amuse voice called from the door. “Are you alright? I just saw what happened and I’ve seen this dog begging around here before. Did he hurt you?”

I can almost swear there was a hint of laughter in the shop owners voice.

“I'm not hurt - only my pride, but,” she replies wearily. “I’m fine. He’s probably the same culprit you’ve witnessed before but I had the misfortune of adopting his scruffy butt on account of him being homeless and hungry. I’m obviously gullible for falling for his act.”

“Oh, you adopted him!” exclaimed the owner. “I’m so glad to hear he finally has a home! I can’t tell you how long he’s been coming by and begging for morsels from unsuspecting customers outside my shop. Here, just wait a moment.”

The shop owner went back inside and returns a minute later with something in her hand. “Here, this is for the one you lost and also as a gift for taking in a kind old, senior dog.”

“Oh, thank you.” The girl says a bit hesitantly as she reaches for it but turns suddenly to look at me and see if I will make a move for it. I won’t. I have what I want and I’m satisfied. 

“He sure is full of surprises. I guess something good came out of feeling sorry for his old ass." She mumbles under her breath. I just sniffed indignantly.

Slowly, she ambles up and receives the extra croissant and thanks the shop keep again for her generosity before we start to head off. The girl covets her croissant and glares petulantly at me every now and again, keeping the baked good close to her person. She actually eats it rather ravenously and very unladylike almost as if she didn’t want to take her chances. That’s fine with me and I just start to lead the way once again since I really don't’ want to walk the same routes we’ve done before.

Where are we heading off to?” The girl manages to say with a mouth full of pastry and spraying crumbs of filo with each word she says.

Well, I’m obviously taking her somewhere she chooses not to visit but as I lead her away from the road lined with small businesses, something draws me towards the end of the row and towards the slope leading to what seems to be a large bridge from this side of town, passing over and crossing to a part of the city I’ve never ventured.

“I guess this is what happens when you let a dog lead you somewhere while you’re distracted.”

I cautiously lead us to this unfamiliar territory that almost screams, “dangerous underbelly of town” but something within me ignores that part of my mind analyzing the area. I have a gut feeling as though this place is calling to me. We walk further in among the damp, dank, shadow of the bridge, amidst the clutter of rubbish and smell of waste towards what looks to be two columns, not in the middle but oddly placed among all the other concrete posts of the bridge. Not only are these the only two of posts of this particular style, they are also spaced closer than the wide breadth the other structural columns are given.

As we draw nearer, I smell something that is distinctly earthy compared to the rest of the pungent moist scent one would expect to detect from under a bridge and possible domicile for vagrants. If I were to close my eyes and focus on the distinct smell, I would almost think that I am in the middle of the a meadows, filled with wave after wave of tall green grass warming under the sun’s ray. When I look around me, I can’t help but think the scenery is nothing but a farce hiding a gem in plain sight. I walk us closer to the source of the scent that has my undivided attention and we are now in front of the odd columns itself. The columns have moss and ivy growing on it unlike the others and also backed by a wall as a supporting structure that runs the width of the bridge.

“Well, good job, dog...for finding a dead end.” The girl sighs and throws a look at me before she looks at the wall again. I watch her squint at it and really scrutinize both the columns and the wall behind it but she shakes it off and directs me back out from under the bridge and into the blinding light of the mid morning sun. Instead of walking the way we came from, we walk the opposite direction and head towards the part of the busier part of the neighborhood with more vehicles and people bustling about this time of the morning. The girl seems to be in a daze and just aimlessly walks around this particular suburb, seeming to just admire the aesthetics of these buildings as we pass.

“Maybe it’s time I find a place of my own.” She muses aloud, to no one in particular. “I was thinking about a place near here instead of moving back home and maybe spreading my wings a bit more. Here, let’s go see if there is still a vacancy.” She says as she opens the wrought iron gate and the high pitch squeal it releases grates on my nerves as she finds a flyer in a small nook by the gate and looks at it for a moment. “I can have a pet, so I guess that takes care of that question.” We exit the squeaky gate once again and continue down the lane of vacant apartment, repeating the same process of looking and grabbing bits of paper with information for the rest of the day until it was time to retire home once again.