★★★

I slept restlessly, my eyes drawn to the window—overcome with the feeling that I was being watched. The shadow didn't pass by again. Still, I couldn't shake the uneasiness that washed over me after its brief appearance. 

Something was out there. It wasn't just me—my dog mother had felt it too. Every intuition inside me was screaming danger.   

Finally, I managed to calm my nerves, only after hours of tossing around on the prickly bed of cedar chips. Warm light flooded through the window, forcing my eyes open. I laid there for awhile, basking in the sun. The events of the night before were still foggy with sleep, giving me some peace. Slowly, I pulled myself from my sanctuary, forced to face the day, and whatever craziness it brought with it.

Tactically ignoring my pestering siblings, I hoisted my fat body onto the bench, and gazed out into the yard. The seemingly endless stretch of oak trees and rolling grass hills had come alive with a chorus of animals of all kinds. Despite the threat of danger lurking in the back of my mind, it was a beautiful sight to see, the sounds and smells jarring happy memories I'd shared with Winter in my former life.

I sighed, watching the chickens roam around. What the hell was I doing here? 

They bobbed their heads, stopping here and there to pick at tidbits in the grass. Then scattered, flustered and squawking as they were rounded up by Barnabas, the old border collie who'd followed Winter the first day we met.

Barnabas was Winter's dog; always by her side, everywhere she went. He had an absolute obsession with herding things. I'd decided he was a bit senile when I encountered him in my human form. Crouched down far to the ground like a wild wolf, he'd herd any living thing. If no one was around, he'd even try to round up fallen leaves blowing in the wind. 

I watched a chicken run for its life, the dog trailing it from behind. The chicken shrieked as Barnabas nipped, and retrieved a feather. Good old Barnabas. Never thought I'd see him again...

A few minutes later, Winter came whistling into our stall and greeted us in her usual joyous way, which made my mother and siblings go crazy with excitement. Barnabas trotted proudly at her heels, head held high, eyes beaming down on us from his assumed position of authority. 

Winter was stunning—not in a sexy, supermodel sort of way. She had natural beauty, and an aura of kindness that was like a magnet, pulling people towards her. Her long dark hair was swept up into a large bun on the top of her head that morning, accenting her large, brown eyes and caramel skin. She wore a blue flannel shirt, knotted in the front, with worn, dusty jeans. In her arms she cradled a big, cardboard box.

My siblings bounced around her feet as she set the box on the ground. Dropping down to her knees, she scooped up Boon, the largest of the pups, and set him gently inside.

"It's a beautiful day outside, time for some fresh air."

I was the last to enter the box under my mother's watchful eyes, Winter hauled it outside. The anxious dog followed close behind. One by one, Winter planted us on the soft grass.

"Don't worry, they can't get too far, Roxie. And Barnabas is here to help." She patted my mother's head. Roxie stood alert, somewhat panicked as her pups headed off in different directions.

Stay, stay, stay! she projected desperately, but the pups were too elated to heed her commands.

Winter sprinted up the hill to the barn. Thrilled to finally be out of the confinement of four walls, I desperately tried to follow her, but my useless legs just weren't capable yet. Instead, I was scooped up by my obsessive mother at the scruff of my neck and dropped unceremoniously back into the box.

Stay.

Just as I had hoisted myself to my feet, nails scraping the cardboard bottom, I was bombarded with the flailing, over-sized body of Boon—the next victim captured by my controlling mother. His weight pinned me  down flat to the bottom of the box.

Ugh—these dumb dogs were hindering what I was supposed to be accomplishing here. I could have been thrown down there at anytime in my life, but they'd chosen that exact time. And the images—it all centered around Winter. I needed to be by her side, but I was stuck in this blasted box. 

Something fluttered above us, and a pair of tiny feet landed on the cardboard rim. I squeezed myself out from under Boon, and looked up.

Hello, small dogs. It was a sparrow, tiny and brown, sporting a black chest.

He flitted his head back and forth in quick jerks, pecking at a small piece of duct tape sticking up from the box. I cocked my head curiously. Interesting—other animals were also capable of the mind transfer thing.

Hello? I answered back, for lack of better things to say.

The sparrow looked down at me, his eyes glinting. I am Sparky. He turned and looked nervously up at the eave of the refuge roof, where bits of straw peeked out. Stay away from my nest!

He let out a scolding sound, and with a couple beats of his wings he disappeared.

I shrugged. Not sure why I was expecting an intelligent conversation. I should have known better.

Directing my attention back to my current imprisonment, I started thinking of ways to get out of the box. If I could convince the bonehead next to me to push with me on one side, we could probably knock it over.

Come here. I projected to Boon.

Yes!  Boon came traipsing over and pounced on top of me, playfully chewing on my head, his over-sized paws batting wildly at me.

No, no—what the—get off of me!

I growled and pushed him off with all four legs. He tumbled onto his back roughly. Shaking off my frustration, I gathered up the strength to try once more.

Here. I demonstrated by putting my paws on the box wall, stretching up as far as I could.

Here. Yes! Here!  This time Boon took a running start and rammed me—his weight enough to rock the box. Acting quickly, I crawled further up the side and toppled it over.

Free once again, I mustered all of my strength and headed swiftly up the hill in the direction Winter had gone. Behind me, I could hear Boon squealing as he was rounded off by the nipping Barnabas. I kept my eyes steadied on the barn, ears down, fearing he'd be after me next.

Clearing the hill, I bounded through the tall grass towards the barn, keeping near the wooden fence of the horse field. As I rounded the corner to the entrance, the sound of my own voice surprised me so much, I sat down flat on my haunches.

Winter and my former self  sat on the edge of the barn's high loft, their legs dangling. Winter held a grooming brush in her hand, she was running her fingers along it as Sheldon spoke, her face soft and shy.

Deja vu swept through me as I spied on the two. Memories flooded back, swirling around in my head, dizzying me. This was the spot where Winter and I'd met every day. It was a quiet place, where we could talk without the chance of being caught.

"Your Dad doesn't like me, does he?" Sheldon asked. He gripped a handful of straw, and let it fall to the ground beneath them.

"He doesn't really even know you," Winter answered after a minute. "He's just being protective."

She halted, flitted her eyes at him shyly. "He thinks there is something going on between us."

"Well, did you tell him there isn't? I mean—there isn't right?" Sheldon turned his attention from the straw in his hand, to Winter's innocent eyes. 

She looked down at her hands, her cheeks were reddening,  giving her answer away without her permission. They sat silent for several minutes, swinging their legs, neither one daring to say the next word.  Sheldon's hand reached to cover hers, and she turned to look at him. An awkward feeling came over me as he leaned in towards her. I felt like the dog version of a peeping tom. The sound of her father's pick up truck coming down the gravel road to the refuge snapped Winter upright.

"I have to finish grooming the horses." She swung her legs around and hurried down the ladder, Her boots kicking up dust as she rushed past, nearly trampling me on the way out. 

I sat and stared up at Sheldon for what seemed like a long time. How strange it was to see myself from the outside! Sure, you see yourself in photos and videos, but in real life? I couldn't take my eyes off of him.

He looked, sad—troubled maybe. Had I been that sad looking my whole life? Funny, I couldn't even remember being sad or troubled, even once. 

Suddenly, his head jerked up. His eyes locked on mine. At exactly the same time, the two of us let out a scream—well, mine was more of a yelp—and I raced away from the barn without looking back.

What the hell was that?  

That bad feeling was back again. Two bodies who hold the same spirit were never meant to meet each other at the same time. Who knows what the consequences might be.