A Special Something


It smells good in here. You tilt your head back, taking a good drink of the air. It's delicious, whatever it is, and your mouth waters at the scent of it. You wag your tail and let out a polite chuff.

"This isn't for you."

Humans make a lot of noises. Their way of communicating is difficult to figure out but you've learned – a high-pitched voice is generally happy, a lower-pitched voice might mean you're in trouble. They don't have ears or tails to hint at what they're feeling and their faces are so flat, you have to read the way they hold their bodies a lot of the time. You've talked to other dogs about how hard it is to figure out what humans actually want. It'd be so much easier if they were built like every other animal.

You're sure your person isn't upset with you. The voice was level, not high or low. Still, there's no answer about what that amazing smell is. You lick your chops and sit politely on the floor. Watching. Your tail moves almost of its own volition. You stretch your neck and lay your ears back and lick the air. It even tastes good but not as good as whatever's cooking on the stove.

Amazing, that humans cook their food. You don't understand it but cooked food tastes incredible. You don't get it often but you're always open to try more of it. You raise your paw as a reminder – you're here, you deserve a treat.

"I said this isn't for you." Her voice took on a deeper tone and you sidle back. Sometimes that works. This time, your human gives you a look. You can't read her face but you can tell by the way she stands you're pushing it.

Time to pull out oall the stops. You squint first then widen your eyes, flipping your ears back and forth. You make your tail stay still – hard though it is to do. You stretch your lips out in an approximate of what the humans call a 'smile.' It's unnatural to you – when you move your lips typically, it's to show a bit of fang – but humans generally find it endearing.

She sighs and spoons something out of the pot on the stove. "All right. You can have a treat. Just this once."

You wag your tail again and lace your ears back against your skull. You stretch your lips wider and let out a soft but happy yawn, shivering all over at the magic word 'treat'. Your human holds up a bit of something. You freeze in position, one paw lifted, waiting as she places the bit on a saucer and setting it on the floor. "It's hot. Wait," she says when you step forward.

It's interminable, the waiting, but you're good. And a few seconds later, when she says, "Okay!" you're even better, because that treat tastes the best.

And maybe, if you beg just right, you'll get seconds.