49 - 21 - Champ Senses

My body bulged out and up. The concrete floor receded below me. Internal organs gurgled and crunched, shifted and re-formed. My legs shot up. Wings shot out. Thickened. Realigned. Hollow bones solidified. I thumped down onto four big, steady paws. I was a German shepherd.

With shepherd senses. The eyes were okay. Not as sharp as my hawk eyes. And I couldn't see much color.

But the ears! I could hear coins jingling out at the cash register. A faint breeze whistling across the roof.

And I could smell . . . everything. Mice, yes. Dust. The Dumpster out back. Curdled milk not quite masked by bleach water. You think a broom handle doesn't have a scent? It does. A little woodsy, a little musty, topped with a delicious bouquet of hand perspiration from every employee who'd ever swept the store.

And Marco's bare feet! Spicy and pungent. And was that - sniff, sniff - had Marco stepped in -- sniff - yes! Horse poop! Not recently. Probably several hours ago, at Cassie's barn. But definitely horse.

I was Champ. I had responsibilities. I was steadfast. Noble. I stood at attention while Marco strapped Champ's harness onto my back.

He found a bungee cord and looped it around the real Champ's neck. Champ raised his head and blinked. He was coming out of the stupor.