The Animal Whisperer

- He scoops me under the muzzle; twigs that scratch and tickle like I remember in the autumn - that split and slip under muddy paws. Only except this smell is different. I can't describe it - for a better word - it tastes, feels, human.

- It rakes just across the neck and for a moment and I can feel the furs yawn and stretch across my back. It's a delicious feeling and the fear of the crowd flits away.

- In-between fights on the street, I can feel my atavism melt away like a pill on the tongue - creating new sensations, new thoughts to the point I get lost in them. I barely see other dogs anymore. Just these aliens waddling slowly on two legs whilst I wait for them to catch up. Those beautiful humans. They have moulded me into their shape. I should be grateful.

I mean, we'll never know if the look in the dog's eyes is a forlorn plea to the world to release it to the fields where it can pin and tear a rabbit without being called a criminal, but I'd be in the wrong business. I don't think the Pet Shop would appreciate the copy.