“Ew!” Ralph laughed, nearly falling over as he watched me in dog form. “Do you really have to lick yourself down there?”

I froze mid-lick and gave him a sheepish look. “I don’t know why, Ralph. I tried to stop, but it’s like...instinct or something. Dogs are just wired to clean, uh, weird places.” I hesitated, then added, “Besides, I always kinda wondered what it’d be like to—”

“Whoa! TMI, Andrew! Way too much information!” Ralph threw up his hands like he could block the words from hitting his ears.

He glanced at the clock on the wall, and his expression shifted to panic. “Oh no, I’m going to be late for school! And if Mom finds out you’re a dog, you know what’s gonna happen!”

“I hope she’s already gone,” I whined, my tail drooping.

“She’s never gone, Andrew,” Ralph groaned. “Mom doesn’t have a job, remember? She’s a stay-at-home wife. Dad’s the one who works.”

We crept toward the back door, each step careful and silent. Ralph’s mom was strict about her “no animals in the house” rule—a rule I was now breaking in the worst way possible. To make things worse, Ralph kept giggling, nearly blowing our cover.

“Ralph,” a voice called from the kitchen. “Aren’t you going to school?”

Ralph froze, eyes wide. “Uh, yeah, Mom! Just forgot something upstairs. Andrew’s helping me get it!”

“Andrew?” she called back, her footsteps growing louder. “You mean the dog? Andrew?”

Ralph bolted, dragging me out the door before she could catch us. Outside, he burst into laughter, clutching his sides.

“What’s so funny?” I asked, confused. Looking up at him was strange—normally, we were face-to-face, but now, everything seemed huge.

“You’d laugh too if you saw what I just did,” Ralph wheezed. “A tiny dog dragging his...um...giant accessories on the floor.”

I blinked, then looked down. Oh. That’s what he meant. “I wonder why, when I changed, my...uh...stuff didn’t shrink to match the rest of me?”

“I don’t know,” Ralph said, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, “but it looks like your human...uh...gear got stuck in dog mode.”

I sighed. “I hope it fixes itself soon.”

We walked to my house, but every few steps, I found myself sniffing or peeing on something. Ralph groaned. “Andrew, do you have to sniff and pee on every single tree we pass?”

“Again—dog instincts,” I said, wagging my tail unapologetically. “I don’t make the rules.”

“Yes, but it looks ridiculous with—”

“Stop talking about it!” I snapped, cutting him off.

Finally, we made it home, where I saw Mom in the yard. My tail wagged furiously, and I barked with excitement.

“Thanks, Ralph, for bringing Andrew back,” Mom said, stroking my fur. “He’s been running off a lot lately.”

“No problem, Mrs. Johnson,” Ralph said with a grin.

“I just hope he hasn’t been out causing trouble,” she added, giving me a suspicious look. “You don’t think he’s gotten another dog pregnant, do you?”

“As far as I know, he hasn’t,” Ralph said quickly. “He’s been with me the whole time.”

“Well, I’ve been wondering if it’s time to, you know...” She made a vague gesture, and my ears perked up. What was she talking about?

I didn’t have time to dwell on it because she handed me a rib bone. I grabbed it eagerly and ran to the corner of the family room to munch on it. I wasn’t sure why I was so excited about a bone, but I chewed like it was the best thing I’d ever tasted.

Later that day, I heard Mom on the phone. “Yes, it’s really big... Uh-huh. You think I should? Okay, I’ll bring him in.”

I stopped listening. Whatever it was, it sounded boring. The bone was way more interesting.

But then, Mom appeared with a leash in her hand. Zelda, our other dog, bounced around excitedly, thinking it was her turn for a walk.

“Not now, Zelda,” Mom said, clipping the leash onto my collar. “Andrew needs this more.”

I wagged my tail. Was it walk time? Maybe we were going to the park! But instead of heading outside, Mom led me to the car. She locked me in a small carrier and placed it on the back seat. I whined, confused. Where were we going?

The car ride felt like forever. I tried to peek out through the tiny holes in the carrier, but I couldn’t see much. Finally, we stopped. Mom carried me inside a building, and the sound of barking dogs hit me like a wall. My ears flattened. This wasn’t the park. It was...a vet’s office.

“Don’t worry, Andrew,” Mom said, peering through the carrier door. “This is for your own good.”

What was for my own good? I whined louder as she handed me off to a man in a white coat.

“Hold still, Andrew,” the man said as he prepared a syringe. “This won’t hurt a bit.”

It did hurt, but I didn’t have long to think about it. Everything went fuzzy, and the world faded to black.

When I woke up, I felt...different. Groggy and sore, but also different. The man in white was talking to Mom.

“While we were neutering him, there was a bit of a complication,” he said. “Unfortunately, his...uh...male anatomy had to be removed entirely. We couldn’t reattach it. The nerves were too damaged. So, we wanted to ask—would you prefer to leave him as-is, or would you like us to make him female?”

Mom’s jaw dropped. “You can do that?”

“Yes,” the man said. “Some owners prefer it. We can also make sure she’s capable of having puppies, if that’s something you’d like.”

Mom hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “I think that would be best. We’ve always wanted puppies, and Zelda can’t have any. Just...take good care of her.”

“Of course, Mrs. Johnson,” the man said with a reassuring smile. “We’ll call you when she’s ready to go home.”

Bright light pierced through my eyelids as I woke up, my body still groggy. I stretched and yawned, feeling stiff and disoriented. Blinking a few times, I noticed I was back at home.

“Was it all a dream?” I muttered, trying to shake the fuzziness from my head.

An itch on my ear interrupted my thoughts, and I instinctively tried to scratch it—but something was in the way. My paw flailed awkwardly, and I froze when I realized what it was.

“Oh no...” My heart sank as I looked around. A plastic cone was strapped snugly around my neck. “It’s the cone of shame!” I groaned.

I started pacing in circles, the cone scraping against the floor. My vision was limited—just white plastic everywhere except directly in front of me. “What did they do to me?” I muttered.

Panic set in. “Did Ralph tell them I was licking myself? Is this some kind of punishment? Or—oh no—did I have surgery?” I sat down, mind racing. “Dogs don’t just wear these for fun. Something happened.”

I scanned my body as best as I could, though the cone made it impossible to see much. “Wait... What if I got neutered?” My breath hitched. “If I stay a dog, fine, but if I turn back into a human... No balls?! What kind of life is that?”

I tried pawing at the cone, clawing and wriggling to get it off, but it wouldn’t budge. Defeated, I flopped onto the floor with a heavy sigh. Time crawled by—well, probably only a few minutes, but it felt like hours. Being a dog really messed with my sense of time.

Boredom quickly took over. “What time is it, anyway?” I got up and padded to the desk in the living room. The clock was too far back for me to read. Frustrated, I headed to the kitchen to check the stove clock.

Jumping up, I squinted at the screen. “Twelve o’clock. Blinking.” I groaned. “Another power outage? Seriously?”

I remembered Mom kept a battery-powered clock in her bedroom, so I darted down the hallway—only to find the door shut. “Of course,” I muttered. “No luck today.”

With no better options, I jumped onto the couch and climbed toward the window. Maybe I could tell the time by the sun. But when I looked outside, thick gray clouds blocked everything. “Figures,” I grumbled.

In my frustration, I swung my head too quickly and accidentally knocked over a glass figurine with the edge of the cone. The sound of shattering glass echoed through the room. My ears flattened as I stared at the broken pieces.

“Oh no. No, no, no.”

Mom came rushing in, her face red with anger. “Bad girl!” she snapped, pointing toward the back room. “Get in the kennel!”

I froze. “Girl?”

But there was no arguing with her. Tail tucked, I shuffled to the room and saw a small wire cage in the corner. It must have been Zelda’s, but now it was apparently mine. I stepped in reluctantly, and Mom locked the door behind me.

Lying down, I sighed. “Did she really call me a girl? Can’t she tell the difference between me and Zelda? I mean, the cone should’ve been a giveaway!”

Hours seemed to pass, but it was probably only a couple of hours. I perked up when I heard the front door slam. Karly was home from school.

“Finally,” I muttered.

I heard her chatting with Mom in the kitchen. I couldn’t make out most of the conversation, but soon enough, Karly came bounding into the room with a leash in hand.

“Hi there, Alyssa!” she cooed, unlocking the kennel. “Want to go for a walk?”

I barked, wagging my tail furiously. I really needed to pee. But wait—what did she call me?

She clipped the leash to my collar, and I bolted for the door, dragging her behind me. “Alyssa?” I thought. “What’s going on?”

We were halfway down the road when I crouched to pee. It wasn’t until then that I realized something weird. I wasn’t lifting my leg—I was crouching like...a girl dog.

“What’s happening to me?” I muttered, mortified.

“Karly!” a familiar voice called. Ralph was walking toward us. “What’s with the cone of shame on Andrew?”

“Oh, she had surgery today!” Karly chirped.

“She?” Ralph froze, staring at me.

“Yeah, she’s a girl now!” Karly said proudly. “Mom decided to make her a girl dog when we had her neutered.”

“Neutered?!” I barked in disbelief.

“Yep! And now her name’s Alyssa. When she’s fully healed, Mom says she’ll get her pregnant. She knows this stud...”

I tuned her out, horrified. “Pregnant? Puppies? What is my life now?”

Ralph raised an eyebrow. “Can I take Alyssa for a walk, Karly? I’d like to...uh...talk to her.”

“Sure! I’ve got homework anyway.” Karly handed him the leash and skipped away.

That night, after my walk with Ralph, I flopped onto my doggie bed. Not the bed I’d known for my entire life, mind you—my warm, cozy human bed—but the small, round, slightly lumpy cushion my mom called a “dog bed.” It smelled faintly of grass and something musty I couldn’t identify.

I sighed, curling up as best I could. “What have I gotten myself into?” I thought, staring at the wall. Becoming a dog had sounded fun—run around, no homework, chase a ball—but the reality was turning out to be much less glamorous.

First, there was the cone. That wretched plastic prison strapped around my neck. I’d tried everything to pull it off—scratching, wiggling, even rolling on the floor—but it wouldn’t budge. The worst part? It reminded me constantly of what I’d lost. “Not only am I stuck as a dog,” I muttered to myself, “but now I’m a girl dog. A bitch. Perfect.”

I sighed again and stretched out. “This is my life now.”

From the family room, I could hear the muffled sounds of the TV. Curious, I padded out to join my family. They were all gathered on the couch watching Stranger Things on Netflix. Even Karly was still up, likely because it was Friday and she didn’t have school in the morning.

I lay down next to them, comforted just by being close. Sure, I wasn’t sitting with them like I used to, but at least I wasn’t alone. I tried to focus on the show, but something about the eerie music and flickering lights set me on edge. My ears twitched with every sudden sound.

Then it happened. A jump scare. My body reacted before my brain could catch up, and before I knew it, I had peed. Right there on the carpet.

“Andrew—no, Alyssa!” Mom yelled, leaping up from the couch.

I froze, ears flat against my head.

Mom pointed toward the back door, her voice sharp. “Outside! Now!”

She didn’t actually throw me out—that would be abusive—but her tone made it clear I wasn’t welcome inside. Tail tucked, I slunk into the dark backyard, the door shutting firmly behind me.

I hated the dark. Even as a human, I’d never liked it, but now, as a dog, every rustle of leaves or distant chirp sounded like danger. The wind whistled through the trees, making the bushes sway ominously. My heart pounded as I stood frozen, unsure of what to do.

A noise from the bushes caught my attention—a rustling, followed by a faint squeak. Against my better judgment, I crept closer. My enhanced dog senses kicked in, and I could see more clearly now, even in the dim light. I sniffed the ground, the air, the leaves.

The scent was...strange. Musky, sharp, and entirely unfamiliar. My tail quivered as I spotted paw prints in the dirt. Some looked like a cat’s, small and precise, but others were much larger, with deep indentations from claws. My mind raced. “What is this?”

The rustling grew louder, and before I could react, a small, wiry dog burst from the bushes, shaking its head furiously. I recognized him immediately.

“Boo!” I barked. Boo was my neighbor’s dog, and by the look of him, he’d just had a run-in with something nasty. He reeked.

Before I could process what was happening, a second figure emerged from the bushes—a skunk.

My heart sank. “Oh no. No, no, no!”

I turned to run, but it was too late. The skunk sprayed, and the world became a blur of panic and stench. My nose burned. My fur stung. The smell was everywhere.

Boo and I rolled in the grass, desperate to get the stench off. Boo whimpered, pawing at his face, and I couldn’t help but laugh internally. He looked ridiculous.

But then I caught sight of the skunk again, still near the bushes, almost as if it were...mocking us. I barked furiously. “Get lost, Pepé Le Pew!”

The back door creaked open, and I turned to see Karly stepping outside.

“Alyssa!” she called sweetly. Then she stopped, wrinkled her nose, and screamed. “Mommy, Alyssa got skunked!”

Mom came running out, hand clamped over her nose. “Oh no. Boo, too?!” She sighed and headed back inside, likely to call Boo’s owners.

I watched her from the yard, my tail drooping. The skunk smell was unbearable, but I couldn’t do much about it with the cone on. Boo and I exchanged miserable glances as we continued to roll in the grass.

Soon enough, Boo’s owners showed up, their faces twisted in disgust. “What happened here?”

“I hope we’re not stuck outside all night,” I thought bitterly, eyeing the closed back door.

Mom returned a few minutes later with a kiddie pool, a pair of gloves, and a basket of tomatoes. “Oh no,” I groaned, realizing what was coming.

She grabbed me first, lifting me into the pool. The cold water made me shiver, and the crushed tomatoes didn’t help. The smell was almost worse than the skunk. I squirmed, trying to escape, but Mom held me firmly.

Boo jumped into the pool on his own, splashing water everywhere. But just as quickly, he hopped back out, shaking tomato juice all over the yard.

I took my chance and bolted.

“Alyssa!” Mom yelled, chasing after me.

I stopped a few yards away, looking back sheepishly. Boo had already been captured and returned to the pool, so I figured my turn was next. Sure enough, Mom scooped me up and plopped me back into the mess of tomatoes.

This game of escape-and-capture went on for what felt like hours. By the end, I was drenched, tired, and smelling distinctly of tomato soup. The cone had been removed temporarily for the bath, and I took a moment to glance at myself.

“What did they do to me?” I thought, horrified.

The cone went back on as soon as I was dry. I sulked, dragging myself to my dog bed. “What a disaster of a day,” I muttered. “Being a dog is officially the worst.”

As I drifted off to sleep, one thought lingered in my mind: I really regret making that wish.

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.

I woke up to a strange mix of comfort and dread. My doggie bed was cozy enough, but Ralph’s words from yesterday echoed in my head: What if you have to decide if you want to stay a dog or go back to being human?

“Decide?” I muttered to myself, rolling over. “What’s there to decide? I’m obviously not staying a dog!”

But even as I said it, a little part of me wondered.

The morning passed uneventfully until Ralph showed up, grinning like he’d just won the lottery.

“Hey, Alyssa,” he said, leaning down to scratch my ears. “Ready for today’s big discovery mission?”

“Discovery mission?” I barked, sitting up. “What now?”

“I’ve been researching that weird stone,” Ralph said, holding up a folded piece of paper. “And I think we can figure out how to undo your wish.”

My tail wagged despite myself. “Finally, some answers!”

We headed to the park, where Ralph spread out his so-called “research.” It looked like a hand-drawn map with a bunch of random locations circled in red.

“Let me guess,” I said, sniffing the paper. “You made this at 2 a.m., didn’t you?”

“Hey, it’s solid research!” Ralph defended. “These are all places in town tied to weird local legends. One of them might have something to do with the stone.”

I sighed. “Fine. Where do we start?”

“The library,” Ralph said, standing up. “It’s the easiest spot to check.”

At the library, Ralph wasted no time flagging down the stern-looking librarian.

“Excuse me,” he said, holding up his map. “Do you have any books about magical stones or wishes?”

The librarian gave him a long, unimpressed look. “Magical stones?”

Ralph nodded eagerly.

The librarian sighed, pointing toward a dusty corner. “Try the folklore section.”

We found a book titled Mystical Legends of Our Town and sat down to go through it together. Well, Ralph went through it—I mostly sat there, wagging my tail and occasionally barking when he skipped a page too quickly.

“Here!” Ralph said, tapping a page with his finger. “Look at this!”

The page showed a sketch of a smooth stone with strange symbols carved into it. According to the description, the stone granted wishes—but with a catch.

“‘The stone’s magic requires the wisher to fully embrace the consequences of their wish,’” Ralph read aloud. “‘Only by learning the lesson tied to their wish can the magic be reversed.’”

I groaned. “Learning a lesson? Seriously?”

Ralph smirked. “It also says the wish lasts three months unless undone earlier by the wisher.”

“Three months?” I barked, horrified. “That’s practically forever!”

Ralph shrugged. “Well, at least now we know you’re not stuck like this permanently.”

As we walked home, Ralph tried to guess what the “lesson” could be.

“Maybe it’s about not taking things for granted,” he suggested.

“Or about appreciating the little things,” I muttered, sniffing a nearby bush.

“Could be both,” Ralph said. “Dogs don’t stress about homework or chores. They just live in the moment. Maybe that’s the point.”

I stopped, staring up at him. “Live in the moment? That’s the big lesson?!”

Ralph laughed. “Hey, don’t knock it till you try it.”

Back at home, I curled up in my doggie bed, Ralph’s words swirling in my mind. Maybe being a dog wasn’t about solving some grand mystery or accomplishing something big. Maybe it was about appreciating life for what it was—messy, unpredictable, and full of surprises.

For the first time since making my wish, I didn’t feel quite so lost.