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Arlo came home from work exhausted physically and mentally. Physically because of the long hours sorting through packages with no break because of the busy holiday season. Mentally because it took every ounce of restraint in him not to give his boss the middle finger and set the building on fire after his increasingly bad ideas and paranoid suspicions that everyone but him was the reason his business was falling apart. The extra hours would be worth it to pay for his Christmas shopping and see the joy in his friends and family for the thought he'd put into them. But that was little comfort for the moment, with threadbare nerves and aching fingers. What he needed now, more than anything, was rest, and with his roommates out of the house dealing with an abusive brother-in-law, there was no one there to stop him from doing just that.

He climbed out of the car, keys in hand, dragging his feet as he walked to the front door. He heard nothing as he approached, which was unusual; his roommate's dog, a German Shepherd mix named Hunter, was usually whining at the door, ready to greet him with a pounce and slobbery kisses. This was sweet of him, of course, but he was glad he didn't have to deal with the dog tonight, tired as he was. One less thing before settling into bed early.

Arlo unlocked the door, stumbled through the jumbled kitchen, and made his way to the living room recliner for a little YouTube before bed. That chair, which they affectionately called the life-sucking chair, would have him asleep in minutes as he watched another mindless TieTuesday stream recording. He had just sat down and started entering the search terms into the browser when he heard the click of Hunter's nails as he padded into the room, tail wagging slowly and eyebrows raised in concern. Arlo smiled down at him wearily.

"Hey, there, boy. How're you doin', huh?"

"Tired. Like you."

Arlo's eyes widened in shock. He was more tired than he thought, or maybe he was having a bad reaction to the General Tso's from lunch, because the dog had just talked to him.

"You... no... you did NOT just speak to me."

"Didn't I? Not what you're used to, is it?"

Arlo rubbed his eyes, then looked back at Hunter. He had clearly seen his lips move in time to those words. If this was a hallucination, it was very convincing.

"What? What do you want? Why talk now?"

"I told you. I'm tired. I need a break. You do too."

With that, Hunter climbed onto Arlo's lap and pushed down on his chest with his forepaws. The weight of him kept him on the chair, but was also undeniably comfortable. Hunter's furry, soft body warmed both his body and his spirit. Hunter was staring intently into his eyes like a rabbit he had stalked to its den, and Arlo understood both that he would ordinarily be afraid of that look and that, for whatever reason, he wasn't.

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"You'll find out soon enough. Keep looking into my eyes. The answer is there."

Hunter's muzzle was practically touching his face, so there wasn't another place to look. Not that Arlo needed one: Hunter's eyes seemed to get deeper and more fascinating the more he stared into them. The dark hazel seemed to shift and change, tiny details that formed swirling, spiraling patterns which were just out of reach for his dwindling thoughts to grasp. He saw himself reflected in the eyes, then Hunter within that smaller reflection, the two images alternating and growing less distinct until he couldn't tell the difference between them. As his eyes glazed over, Hunter began to speak softly to him.

"That's it. Keep staring. Feel how soft I am."

"Soft..."

"How fuzzy I am."

"Fuzzy..."

"How warm I am."

"Warm..."

"Just relax. Let your thoughts get warm and soft and fuzzy."

As Arlo kept gazing into those perfect eyes, he found his thoughts swirling along with the patterns in the eyes. They bled into one another, a tangled knot of thoughts and feelings, until it was all the same pure, unwavering, pleasant sensation of safety and simplicity.

"That's it. Relax. No need to worry. No need to think. Just follow my voice."

"Don't think... follow..."

"That's it. Good boy."

"Good..."

As Arlo's eyes spiraled, unfocused, Hunter carefully climbed off his lap, and walked around to his side."

"Now, I have a job for you, boy."

Arlo squinted a little in irritation at the word.

"Job?"

"Don't worry. It'll be fun. I promise."

"OK..."

"But to do this job, you need to change into the uniform. Take off your clothes."

"Sure..."

Arlo got up from the chair and started removing articles of clothing one at a time, mechanically. First came his polo shirt and khakis, the uniform for a former job he didn't even remember he'd ever had. Then his white undershirt, brown work boots, and black socks. Finally, he slid his boxer briefs down his legs and picked them up from the floor, leaving him completely nude. Each piece was carefully folded and placed in a pile in the corner in the room. His task complete, the senseless man stood facing Hunter, relaxed but at attention, ready for what came next.

"Good boy. Now, take off my collar and put it around your neck."

The collar, a tan nylon strap with an adjustable buckle, took a little adjusting to remove. But he was a professional with his hands, normally, and the pain which had agonized him just minutes ago was completely wiped away, part of a mind he wasn't using. As he removed the collar and fitted it to his own size, Hunter, took the opportunity to scratch his neck in a trouble spot which had been blocked from scritches for the last month. When he was finally satisfied and itch-free, he gave his now collared companion his next instructions.

"Good boy. Now that you're wearing my uniform, you can do my job. Do you know what my job is?"

"Um... no..."

"What am I?"

"A... a dog?"

"Good boy. So, if you want to do my job, what do you have to do?"

He struggled briefly, then came up with the answer.

"I have to... be a dog?"

"Good boy. But you can't do a new job without training, can you?"

"No..."

"First, look at how I'm standing. How should you be standing right now?"

Arlo looked closely, then saw the problem: he was too tall. To be a dog, he would have to get lower to the ground. He lowered himself to his knees, then fell forward onto his hands, getting as close as he could to Hunter's posture.

"Like this?"

"Yes! Good boy! Now you look like a dog. My dog."

"Your dog?"

"Yes. My dog. What does that make me?"

Arlo's eyes crossed slightly with the effort to find the word, but he found it eventually.

"My... master?"

"You got it! I'm your master! Good boy!"

Arlo swelled with pride at the words. He'd done it. He'd made his master happy. That was his job, and he was doing it so well.

"Master! Yes! But, who am I?"

"Oh... you'll need a name, won't you? I'll call you pup for now."

"Pup! I like it, master! I love you, master!"

"Hehe, good dog. Good boy. One last thing before we play..."

"Play? I like to play!"

"I'm sure you do. But if you want to be a dog, you must speak like a dog. Only like a dog."

"Like you, master?"

"Hehe, no, silly pup. I'm off duty. How did I speak before?"

Arlo was silent for a moment, trying to remember. Then, he let out a high-pitched whine, sniffed around at Hunter's paws, barked gutturally with a light growl, and wagged his rear as if his tail were as long and luxurious as Hunter's.

"Good boy! Are you ready to be a dog?"

He bowed playfully, "tail" still wagging with zeal, and barked again. He was ready to play with master, to eat from his bowl, to go walkies, everything he knew he loved to do as a dog. He was excited to get started, and didn't notice Hunter softly chuckling over the situation.

"First things first, pup. You haven't had dinner yet. Let's see what we can find, huh?"

Hunter walked into the kitchen, looking for something he could get to without hands. Arlo padded behind him, sniffing the air around him with interest, particularly near the garbage can. All the food smells were making him hungry. Finally, Hunter spotted what he was looking for: a box of Cocoa Puffs was sitting on the counter, left there from today's breakfast. Not the healthiest meal, but this was a special occasion. He jumped up to the counter with his front paws, knocked the box down to the floor, and dragged it over to his empty bowl. Arlo licked his lips and drooled hungrily as Hunter, with some difficulty, managed to pour the last of it into the bowl. Tossing the box into the garbage, he looked back at his eager pet.

"Dinner's ready. Enjoy!"

Arlo scrambled over to the bowl with a wide-open grin and started to munch down the food. It tasted better than anything he'd ever eaten, like each individual kernel and crumb was its own expertly crafted delicacy. Hunter, meanwhile, nosed open the refrigerator and took some ham from the bottom shelf; there was no reason he couldn't treat himself as well. As Arlo finished his meal, his mouth was beginning to dry out from all the powdered cocoa and sugar, but the nearby water bowl could help with that. The water was more metallic and colder than he was used to, but that just made it more refreshing. After Hunter scarfed down the last of the ham and cleaned up his mess as well as he could, he looked back at Arlo, who was panting with sparkling eyes, sticky lips, and dripping tongue, thankful for the meal his master had provided him.

"You were hungry, weren't you? Good boy! Now, stay there while I check something."

The words were ecstasy to Arlo, and he would do anything to hear them again. His limbs didn't move an inch as Hunter unlocked the front door, turned the knob using friction from the leash hanging on it, and peered out to the yard. They lived in a quiet suburb, with disinterested neighbors, and no one was walking down the street. It should be safe to let the dog out this time of night.

"You wanna go out, boy? Huh? Do ya?"

Arlo started to whine and run in circles. He needed to go, and Master wanted him to go outside, so that's where he would have to go.

"OK. Go out to the tree. Come back when you're done."

Arlo bounded past him, the cool night air smacking him in the face as he went. Outside smelled very different from inside, and the tree smelled the most interesting nearby. He smelled another dog there, on the tree, and wondered who he was and if they could meet. Then, he turned to the side, lifted his leg, and peed in the same spot, relieved both that he didn't have to go any more and that the new dog would know about him now. When he was done, he clambered back onto the porch. In the distance, he heard another dog barking, deeply and loudly. Maybe he was the same one from the yard. He barked back in greeting, happy he was making a friend.

"Hey! Get in here!"

The tone of Hunter's voice was scolding, and Arlo knew he'd done something wrong, though he wasn't sure what. He slinked back into the house and whimpered as Hunter shut and locked the door behind him.

"Sorry, pup. I don't want you spending too long out there. It's not safe. But look what I found!"

Hunter had placed one of his toys in the center of the room; a nylon rope bone with a mint-flavored stripe. He took one end of it in his mouth and swung it by Arlo's face, taunting him with it to get his attention. Arlo's head followed the swings and whirls of the bone, his eyes locked to it and ready to grab at the next opportunity. With a sudden twirl, Hunter tossed the bone into the air.

"Catch, pup!"

Arlo backed himself up, stood on his haunches, and slammed his lower jaw onto the middle of the rope as it fell into his waiting mouth. As he fell forward, tail wagging in excitement and fun, Hunter congratulated him.

"Nice catch! Good boy! Wanna play some more?"

Arlo would have barked if he wasn't so concerned about keeping his prize, but a high-pitched squeal came through his open mouth, muffled slightly by the rope bone inside it.

"Good boy! Come on, let's go to the other room."

Hunter trotted back to the living room and onto the recliner, and Arlo followed behind him, still carrying his bone. He lay at Hunter's feet, placing the bone on the chair beside him and backing up to try to catch it again. They played fetch for a while, until Arlo grew tired of it and lay down in Hunter's dog bed, chewing on his bone while Hunter watched television. Around the time the people of the house usually went to bed, Hunter knew he had to get things back to normal before the others got back. Arlo was dozing in his bed, so Hunter got down from the recliner and nuzzled him softly.

"Pup? Wake up. It's time for bed. I'll show you where it is."

Arlo's eyes opened slowly, and his rear wagged slowly at his master's voice. As Hunter walked to the bedroom, Arlo ambled behind, yawning with half closed eyes. He was ready for bed, and he was happy master could take him there. Hunter climbed onto the queen size mattress with ease, beckoning his pup to do the same. Once Arlo did so, he walked in a circle and slumped down. Hunter pulled a blanket over him, pulled the collar off his neck, and whispered into his ear.

"Tomorrow, you'll think all of this was a dream. But this is a special dream, one you can come back to. All you have to do is remember you're a good boy."

"Good... boy..."

"You're a good boy. Sweet dreams, pup."

As Arlo began to snore lightly, Hunter quietly made his way back to the living room. He had one last step to take before he could go to bed himself.

---

The next morning, when Arlo's roommate arrived back at the house, he found a note in large, sloppy letters. It read:

JOE

IF YOUR MATE EVER GIVES YOU A PROBLEM, JUST TELL HIM HE IS A GOOD BOY.

-H