The Bitch - 9

Jill lay on the bed next to Stephen, her furred body stretched awkwardly across the sheets. Her sides still stung from the loup-garou’s claws, but Stephen had tended to her wounds with a calm efficiency that only made her heart ache more. She glanced at him as he sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands.

“I hoped…” she began, her voice rasping and broken. She swallowed hard, trying again. “t.t.urn back.” Speaking was so difficult. What had once been natural to her now felt odd and out of place. She didn't know how much was the physiology of enunciation and vocalization and how much she just didn't give a fuck. Words had started escaping her the longer she was in this form. She knew there would come a time when words were completely lost on her, but not yet.

Stephen looked over his shoulder, his face etched with exhaustion and quiet resignation. “We both know that’s not going to happen by itself,” he said gently. "They key is that monster.”

Jill closed her eyes, her chest rising and falling with a deep sigh. She wanted to argue, to cling to some shred of hope that this nightmare could be undone. But she couldn’t deny the truth. This would be their first night like this. This would be her first night as a dog. This would be his first night…

…without his wife.

No, she couldn't think like that. She was still his wife, dammit. Ian still had school the next day, and she needed to drive car-pool next week, and he needed oranges from practice! All that was still going to happen.

She drifted into a restless sleep, her dreams filled with moonlit chases and flashes of yellow eyes. When she woke, sunlight streamed through the curtains, and Stephen was already gone. The house was quiet except for the faint hum of the heater.

She stretched and hopped off the bed, her paws landing softly on the floor. Bounding down the stairs, she found Ian in the kitchen, still in his pajamas. He grinned as she trotted up to him, her tail wagging uncontrollably.

“Morning, MOLLY!” he chirped, grabbing a box of dog food from the counter. He poured a generous helping into a bowl, setting it on the floor with a flourish. “Here you go!”

Jill hesitated for only a moment, the rational part of her mind recoiling at the thought. But the smell hit her like a punch, rich and savory, and she lowered her head, eating hungrily. The crunch of the kibble between her teeth was satisfying in a way she couldn’t explain. She didn’t care. She was starving.

Ian giggled as she licked the bowl clean, her tail wagging even harder. “You were really hungry, huh?” he said, scratching behind her ears. She let out a soft bark of agreement, nuzzling his hand.

“Let’s go outside!” Ian said, racing to the back door. She followed, bounding into the yard with him. The crisp morning air filled her lungs as they ran together, Ian laughing as she playfully nipped at his heels. For a brief moment, everything felt normal—like a mother playing with her son on a sunny morning.

But deep down, Jill knew the truth. She wasn’t just pretending to be the family dog anymore. She was becoming it. And the line between who she was and what she was becoming was growing thinner by the day.

"When's Mommy coming home?" Ian had whined as Stephen hurriedly poured a cup of coffee and scooted him into the car. She needed to tell him about the carpool next week, but she couldn't speak in front of Ian, it wouldn't do for Ian to have a tallking dog. Especially one who used to be his mother.

"Your Grandpa is pretty sick," Stephen said. "He might take weeks, even months depending on what he's come down with." Stephen looked down at Jill, silently communicating to her what he had told Ian. It was a pretty good excuse, all things considered.

"Mommy knows about Molly?" Ian scratched her ears absently. It was Jill's favorite place, and she tried to not enjoy it so damn much, but it felt so damn good. She leaned into his little hand, working his marvelous fingers until he…ooooh that was it.

"Why didn't Mommy call last night?" Ian said. "She always calls when she's out of town."

Yeah, Mr. Smartypants. Why didn't I call?

Stephen rubbed his chin. "I'm sure she was at the hospital until late, sport. Look, let's get you off to school, Okay?"

"Mrs. Johnson is picking us up this week," Ian said. As if on cue, they heard a horn honk in the front. Without thinking Jill started barking. Her alarm instinct was in high gear.

"Shush Molly," Stephen said, and went out to the front. Ian followed him, and he'd forgotten his backpack! Damn, how could he do that? Would he be totally…Jill sprinted up the stairs and barreled through Ian's room. She spotted the backpack almost immediately, sitting on his bed and she grabbed it with her teeth and dragged it out of the room and down the stairs. The backpack thumped loudly down the stairs and Stephen saw what she was doing. He took the stairs two at a time and caught the backpack up i his strong hand, then turned back just as Stehen came back in the door. "I forgot my…Oh thank you Daddy."

"Welcome sport." He smiled and winked down at Molly. "Actually it was Molly who remembered."

"Thank you, Molly! Ian gave her a quick hug and Molly ruffed in response. If he didn't hurry that Susan Johnson would…" a horn honk came from the front again, and Ian ran down the stairs. Stephen followed and Jill could see him waving at Susan.

Had it really only been yesterday that she'd waved at Susan after she picked up Ian? She'd been partially transformed, of course, but she had on a ball cap, and a windbreaker to hide the tufts of fur growing out on her wrists.

Stephen came back and grabbed his bag. He had a high end tennins racket, a couple of Raquetball rackets, and people had wanted pickleball, so he'd quickly learned that sport so he could teach it to new members.

"Okay, love. I'm off. Do you think you'll be okay?"

"Yeth!" she said, trying to speak and not bark, but it came out as a mixture.

"I wish you could answer the phone. I'll be home for lunch though."

That was good news. At least he wouldn't be eating lunch with Beth Richardson. Or having Burger King. Or having Burger King with Beth Richardson. "O.K." she said, though she had to bark out each letter.

He left then.

Beth felt bereft. Wow, is this what dogs feel when people leave? IT felt like she'd never see them again, that she'd be alone forever! She even let out a howl, that ended in a little sob as she went to the window and nosed aside the curtain and watched Stephen's little truck pull out of the driveway.

She was alone.

She thought about it. Today was Tuesday. Usually she would have a second cup of coffee, then get her words in (she wrote for a local paper), then do the laundry. It was time to change the sheets on all the beds too. She also liked the windows open.

Using her teeth she was able to grab the hanging cord from the curtains and pull them open. She wnet upstairs and by using a combination of paws and teeth was able to get the bed stripped. She didn't think the few holes her teeth put in the sheets would matter much. She obviously coudn't carry a laundry basket…hmm.

She ended tugging each set of sheets down the stairs. She got to the basement doors, and no matter how much she butted the door, or tried to open it with her paws, it remained steadfastly closed. Hmmm. There had to be a way…

She thought about the storm doors, and went downstairs and out the back. Stephen had thoughtfully left it open for her so she could go out or in as she desired. She went to the storm doors and studied the padlock on it carefully. The key to the padlock was on her keyring and her keyring was hanging neatly by the front door…

Beside the padlock however were two screws that held the latch to the wood, and they had come a bit loose. It took her a long time, but eventually she was able to get the two screws loose, and another hour later heard the music of one of them falling to the wood below. Using her teeth she pulled one of the doors up and over, and was able to descend into the basement. Success!

She walked up the stairs, and levered herself up. She was able to push the door from behind, and if she angled er paws just right…she was able to get the door open. Using her teeth she was able to tug each set of sheets down into the basement.

Now the next obstacle confronted her. She needed to open the door to the expensive washer, then put the sheets inside, close the door, and turn on the washer. Try as she might, she couldn't angle her jaw to be able to open the door to the washer. She tried using a stick, a screwdriver she found on the floor, and anything else available in the basement She pulled down Stephen's tool box, and routed through the tools, seeing if there was anything she could hold in her mouth and try to open the door.

Nothing Worked.

She was staring at the washing machine when Stephen came home for lunch. He said something in a loud voice.

Puzzled, Jill looked up at him. Again he said something, even louder this time. Sounds came out his mouth, but she couldn't figure out what they meant. Surely he could see that she'd been trying to do the laundry, right?

She glanced around herself. Bedding had been pulled down from the beds on the upstairs landing. It had gotten caught at various intervals by pots, or plants, or a fake tree at one point, but he could see she was trying to wash those right? All she needed was the laundry door open—-

h spoke even louder to her, holding both sides of her head. Speaking louder wasn't going to help anything he needed to…

With a start, Jill realized something else had changed.

She could no longer understand what he was saying. She had not only lost the ability to speak, she'd lost the ability to understand words.

She whined in response, unable to form any words.