I didn’t sleep well that night. Every time I closed my eyes, I woke up again, restless and uncomfortable. Maybe it was the cone. Maybe it was the doggie bed. Or maybe it was the lingering smell of tomatoes. Either way, I was not getting a good night’s rest.

Eventually, I gave up and wandered into the kitchen, my eyes half-closed. I wasn’t really thinking, just moving on autopilot. When I reached the sink, I froze.

“Oh no,” I muttered, reality sinking in. “I’m a dog. How am I supposed to get a drink of water?”

I glanced down and saw Zelda’s water bowl sitting on the floor. My ears drooped. “No way am I drinking from that,” I thought. The idea of sharing a bowl with Zelda—who had no problem drinking out of the toilet, mind you—was gross. But my throat was parched, and desperation was setting in.

I padded over to the bowl and peered inside. Empty.

Whining softly, I pawed at the bowl. The next thing I knew, Mom was in the room, rubbing her eyes and looking annoyed.

“Alyssa,” she grumbled, bending down to grab the bowl. “Do you have to make so much noise at night?”

She filled the bowl with water and set it back on the floor. “There you go, girl. Happy now?”

I sniffed it hesitantly before taking a cautious lap. To my surprise, the water wasn’t bad. In fact, it tasted...great. Like the best soda I’d ever had. Before I knew it, I was lapping it up like crazy, finishing the entire bowl.

“Okay, maybe this isn’t so bad,” I thought, feeling a bit guilty that Zelda wouldn’t have any left.

On my way back to bed, I heard a noise coming from the bathroom. Curious, I peeked inside and saw Zelda with her head in the toilet, happily drinking.

“Gross!” I thought, shuddering. “I don’t care how thirsty I get—I’m never doing that. Ever.”

When morning came, I woke up to chaos. The room I was in had been trashed. Toilet paper was strewn everywhere, like some kind of puppy frat party had gone down overnight.

I stretched and yawned, blinking at the mess. “What happened here?”

A loud scream from the next room snapped me to attention. I darted out to find the rest of the house in an even worse state. Trash was scattered all over the floors, furniture was overturned, and Mom was standing in the middle of it all, looking furious.

“Alyssa!” she yelled, her eyes locking on me. “How could you do this?”

I froze, guiltless but unable to defend myself.

Mom pointed to the back door. “Out!”

Tail between my legs, I slunk outside, plopping onto the patio with a heavy sigh. “Why am I always the one to blame?” I thought. “It doesn’t matter if I’m human or a dog—I always get blamed.”

I sat there for a while, replaying the morning’s events in my head. “It couldn’t have been me,” I muttered. “Could it?” Zelda had always been a good dog, so I didn’t think it was her either. That left only one suspect: Boo.

I trotted over to Boo’s backyard, where I found him lounging happily. His tail wagged as he saw me approach.

“Hey, Boo,” I barked.

He greeted me in typical dog fashion—by sniffing my rear.

“Oh no,” I thought, horrified. “This is really happening.”

Dogs sniff butts like humans shake hands, but that didn’t make it any less gross. Reluctantly, I sniffed him back, nearly gagging from the stench. “Why do dogs do this?” I wondered. “Is it like a fingerprint thing? Do I have a ‘smell identity’ now?”

As I pulled away, I couldn’t help but wonder: did Boo know I was a boy dog before? Could he tell I was a girl now? The thought made me uneasy. “I hope not,” I muttered, glancing at him nervously.

The last thing I wanted was for Boo to get any ideas. “I don’t want to be anyone’s baby mama,” I thought grimly. “This was not part of the plan when I made that wish.”

Boo suddenly darted off, rolling around in a mud puddle like a hyperactive puppy. I tilted my head, watching him.

“Wait a minute,” I thought. “That puddle’s from yesterday. The skunk bath!”

I looked at the mud, then at Boo, then back at the mud. “If I were human, this would be a one-way ticket to trouble. But as a dog...” A grin spread across my face. “I’m already outside. No grounding. No video games taken away. Just freedom.”

Without another thought, I dove into the mud, rolling and splashing alongside Boo. It was glorious. Mud caked my fur, the cool squishiness coating me like armor. For the first time since becoming a dog, I felt truly free.

That is, until I heard Mom’s voice.

“Alyssa!” she shouted. “Come here, now!”

I ignored her, too caught up in the joy of the moment. The cone around my neck cracked and finally fell off, but I didn’t care. Mom’s frustration only fueled my fun.

“Alyssa!” she yelled again, stomping toward me.

As soon as she reached me, I gave her the biggest, muddiest shake I could manage. Mud splattered everywhere, coating her from head to toe.

“You little—” Mom started, sputtering. She muttered words I’d never heard before, but I was pretty sure they were cuss words.

Boo and I exchanged a look before bolting. Mom didn’t stand a chance of catching us.

Eventually, she cornered me and dragged me back to the kiddie pool for another bath. This time, I didn’t even fight it. I was still laughing—internally, of course—at the image of mud-covered Mom.

“This is the best day of being a dog so far,” I thought, wagging my tail.

As Mom scrubbed me clean, I couldn’t help but grin. Sure, being a dog had its downsides, but moments like this? Totally worth it.