What am I going to do now?

What am I going to do now?

My life was falling apart and I was in a state of deep depression. I had just gotten the worst possible news from my doctor. It was Cancer. I couldn’t tell you where in my current state of mind. I was having trouble processing it. I just new that I didn’t have long in this world, maybe 6 months to a year at best. Everything I had worked for was waste, and I would be passing on ling before I could accomplish any of the goals I had set for myself.

Most of the rest of the day was a haze, but somehow I managed to find my way home without any incident. I contacted my boss, and let him know the situation, and combined with the leave I had left, the companies medical program, I wouldn’t have to work, and could receive my full salary for the time I had left, and could finally do some of the things I had always wanted to do, but never had the time.

Most of my bucket list was done in the first month, and I found myself wanting to try more and more risky and dangerous things. As I had spent most of my time working, I didn’t have a lot of friends to keep my from the insane and crazy things my mind kept imagining. I tried sky diving, and bungee jumping, and loved them, but they didn’t really meet the needs I was feeling.

One night, on the way home from my latest round of treatment, (Which did some good, but I was still getting sicker), I decided to stop in on a bar I passed nearly every day when I was commuting to and from work, figuring a few drinks couldn’t hurt.

I had never been in the bar before, but it had a nicely done exterior, with images of all kinds of dogs interacting with their owners posted around the outside. Upon entering I was met with even more of the dog theme, with nearly every picture in the bar showing a dog in action doing some kind of job or trick. Some were actual photos and others were paintings and other kinds of images. I thought it was strange, but they were tasteful and the patrons appeared to be respectably dressed

I walked up to the bar, and was greeted warmly by one of the bartenders, and placed my order of one of the house specials and some wings to eat. The drink and the wings were incredibly tasty, and I made a point of stopping in whenever I could. I started to recognize some of the regulars, and even greeted them from time to time as they came in. For some reason I couldn’t identify, this place felt right to me, and I felt more at home here than anywhere else I had ever been.

I walked into the bar one night, after a bad day when I found out that my treatments weren’t as effective as they should be, and had what was probably a few too many drinks, and started a conversation with the man sitting next to me. Looking back, I was sure that I was bothering him, but he was very polite and listened to everything I was telling him, and seemed to really care and be concerned for my wellbeing.

I was hesitant to go back to the bar the next night, being a little embarrassed to see the man again, but I couldn’t resist the draw of the food and found myself there just in time for dinner.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I scanned the bar and didn’t see the man I had accosted the previous evening. I approached the bar, and ordered my usual and was about half way through when some one sat down next to me.

I felt a hand on mine, and looked over. It was the same man I had talked to yesterday. He told me he had been thinking about what I had told him, and wanted to get to know me better and help me through what I was going through. He had lost a friend to cancer not long ago and knew some of what
I was going through. We spent the rest of the evening talking, a little more sober this time, and became good friends.

Over the next week or so, we would meet at the bar, and get a table in the back, and share what happened and how we felt that day over our food and drinks. I can’t explain it, but I felt more comfortable with him than with anyone I had ever known. One weekend out of the blue, he called me and invited me over to his home. I didn’t have any other plans, so I agreed, and headed right over.

When I arrived, he was waiting at the door for me, and ushered me in quickly, as it was starting to get cold. I took a quick look around, and saw that the house was decorated much as the bar was, with dogs everywhere in all kinds of poses. He saw me glancing around and told me that the pictures were of his beloved pet who had died. It turns out the friend with cancer was his dog!

That took me aback for a moment, but our bond appeared to be genuine, and my feelings toward him quickly pushed any doubts out of my mind. We spent the rest of the afternoon talking, and playing pool in his game room.

Since it was getting late, we ordered Chinese food for dinner, and had it delivered. As we sat down for dinner and served our plates, he confessed that he had an ulterior motive for inviting me over. A wave of fear passed over me, as I was sure he was going to kill me or rob me.

I quickly realized that was silly, and asked him what he meant. He told me all about his dog, and how much he had loved him, and wanted to know if I was interested in becoming his dog, and spending my last few months cared for like a beloved pet. I just stared at him for a moment. He got a weird look on his face, and apologized. He thought I knew that the bar was a fetish bar for people into pet play, and that I was into the scene.

I was stunned. I had no Idea, but something in the back of my mind kept trying to tell me that it was a great idea. Before I knew it, I had agreed to a trail period, just to see what it would be like. I could hardly believe I had done it, but it felt like the right thing to do.

After we finished dinner and cleaned up, he led me to a room in the house with a dog bed and a large basket of assorted dog toys. He told me that this was his dog’s room, and would be mine whenever I stayed over. He had me remove all of my clothing, and place it in a bag, which he took out and place in a hall closet. Upon returning, he held up a collar, and fastened it around my neck. I could see the tag read “Benjy” and knew that I had made the right decision. I quickly dropped to all fours and barked at him playfully.

Somehow this all felt right and natural to me, and I spent the rest of the weekend with him, sleeping in the dog bed, playing, and eating out of bowls on the floor. I was sad to leave when the weekend ended, and took my time getting dressed so that I could savor the experience a little more. We agreed to meet for dinner at the bar that evening.

I couldn’t think of much else for the rest of the day, constantly daydreaming about our time together, and even started to feel somewhat better physically. I couldn’t wait to for dinner that night. We continued playing dog on the weekends and meeting at the bar for a couple of weeks before he asked me to move in with him.

I didn’t have much in my life outside of him anyway, so I quickly agreed. Meeting him felt the best thing that had ever happened in my life, and I wanted to be as close to him as possible. The arrangements were made, and I moved into his home later that week.

As soon as the movers were gone, and things had been mostly put away, I was naked and collard ready to start my new life as his pet. He was true to his word and took the best care of me any owner could of their faithful dog. I had always felt out of place in the human world, and never really seemed to fit in. I quickly developed a dog persona, and found it becoming more dominant with every passing day.

I stayed his pet dog all the time, except when I needed to pretend to be a human to see the doctor and get my treatments. On my latest appointment, the doctor looked pleased, and said he didn’t quite understand it, but things were looking up, and I was making progress against the cancer. I knew it was all due to the care I was getting from my new friend.

As it started to get warmer, we spent more time outside together, and I started learning all the traditional dog tricks, and we even went for walks in the secluded paths behind his home. I knew with more certainty each day that I had made the right decision. I never wanted to leave my masters side.

It’s now several months after the time the doctors had given me, and I was still doing well. I hadn’t yet beaten the cancer, but it had shrunk to almost nothing. I wasn’t sure how long it would last, or if I could finally beat this thing, but it no longer held the grip on me that it did when I first found out.

Master was pleased when I told them the news, and was happy that he wouldn’t have to worry about losing his beloved dog anytime soon. I could tell he was really happy and felt the same way about me that I felt about him. It made me fell happy to know that no matter how long I had left, I would be really loved in a way I could never have been as a human, and it would both of us would benefit greatly from our time together.