Dog Day After Day Ch 05

'Roll over, Rover.'

I briskly obeyed. From my lowly position crouched on all fours, I quickly rolled on my side, down onto the grey dirt and kept on rolling right over. Briskly is the way commands are obeyed in Karen's Kennels. I learned that quickly. The world rotates around me, first I see the white trainers of Millie, my personal dog handler, then up her tanned legs to her loose, high cut, soft pink shorts that flapped against the top of her plump thighs in the light breeze. This vision was followed by a quick impression of Millie's shaded face surrounded by golden curls, a small frown creased her brow as she busily tapped on her phone. Next, the blue sky above her wheeled by, and finally the low line of Texas ash trees that bounded the property, till I ended up as I started, crouched down on all fours once again, staring at the dirt of the backyard at Karen's Kennels which now seemed to sway slowly from side to side. I was slightly dizzy. This had been the third roll over command in the last ten seconds. Millie must be on a long text conversation.

'Good boy. Treat?' she said absently, still tapping on her phone. I was low down in her list of immediate priorities, it would seem. Such is the life of a dog, a bit of an afterthought.

'Woof.' I quickly hopped into the 'beg' position, gaping my mouth wide open, letting my tongue hang out and panted eagerly. No shame in it. This is the way it's done in Karen's Kennels. I'm a happy puppy about to receive a treat from my trainer. It doesn't get much better than that. Not at Karen's kennels anyway.

'Here, Rover. Take it,' said Millie, dropping the treat onto the gravel at her feet, without her fingers seeming to pause from their tapping on her phone. The first two times Millie gave me a treat she held it out for me to take from between her fingers, but now she just drops it on the ground. Is she losing interest in me? Or maybe this twenty year old, or less, doesn't like a fifty-six year old fattie licking her fingers, even if he is wearing a doggie head harness and doggie outfit. I don't know, but I'm prepared to live with it. Especially since it's late in the afternoon and Millie's occasional treats are the only food I've got since arriving at Karan's Kennels early that morning. It seems that every morsel I get has to be earned. The small cube shaped doggie treat tastes vaguely meat flavoured. I get my lips around it, taking a few bits of grit from the yard with it and crunch it down. Yummy.

'Heel, Rover,' says Millie, walking away from me. I lumber along on all fours as quick as I can, Anxious to get myself just behind Millie's left foot. All fours is the rule for moving around in Karen's kennels. I am on my mitted hands and feet with my legs well bent, knees almost touching the ground, my butt up in the air. I waddle along as best I can. Elegant it is not. Dignified it definitely is not. But I'm doing it like that because Millie had trained me to do it like that. She said it's faster than if I'm actually on hands and knees. Maybe, but it's hard work on my fifty-six year old bod.

I know her name is Millie because that's what the driver of the van called her when I was brought to Karen's Kennels earlier. 'Here, Millie,' she called. 'I've got one for you.' And Millie came over to haul me out of the van to begin my three days puppy play training.

My transfer to the kennels had happened quite quickly and unexpectedly. First thing that Sunday morning, Mary, my wife, or, to be correct, my owner for the duration my pet play life, had let me out of the dog crate. She removed the bone shaped gag from my mouth that had made sleep more difficult. More difficult than trying to sleep already was when you are cramped up in a dog crate for the night. I licked Mary's feet and legs eagerly, anxious to show her how grateful I was to have been let out of the crate and to have the gag removed. I think she expects her pet to show a bit of enthusiasm for its owner in the morning.

'I guess somebody is happy to start their second day as a dog. Isn't that so, Rover?' said Mary as she clipped the long lead to my dog collar and opened the back door.

'Woof.'

'Let's get you started then, Rover. Today you will go on your big trip to the kennels for your puppy training adventure,' she said cheerily, leading me out into our back yard to tie my long lead off to the olive tree as she had done the previous day. I immediately went over as near the boundary fence as I could reach, pulling the long lead out to its fullest extent. I adopted the undignified 'display' position, that is bent over with legs apart and straight, head near the ground. Mary insists on this when I am relieving myself, in this case, having a pee.

In the middle of peeing, I heard my breakfast ration of kibble bounce and scatter along the patio. Mary shouted a quick 'Eat up, Rover,' while smartly closing the kitchen window. No friendly chat with her pet dog over breakfast then. No heads up on how exactly my day was about to develop. Like, when was this kennels trip going to happen? Maybe she wanted me to live in the now. She has hinted as much. Pets don't know what the future holds she said, and don't worry about it. An okay philosophy, I suppose, for a pet. And I am her pet. Why? Because I wanted to be her pet. For seven days anyway.

Though I didn't know it then, that shouted 'eat up' instruction would be the last interaction I would have with Mary until I was returned to her following my three days pet play training.

I got down to the serious business of breakfast. Besides focusing on eating my crunchy kibble because I was hungry, I had to concentrate on clearing the patio of every last scrap. There would be a cost paid for any kibble pieces I missed that were later crunched underfoot by Mary. She would add a day to my dog life for each bit of kibble so crunched. That was the threat that hung over my breakfast, making it a nervous time. I was busy sniffing and rooting along the margins of the lawn and the patio slabs for any final stray bits of kibble when I heard my name being called, my dog name that is.

'Is that Rover, I see? Come here, boy.'

Looking up, I spotted a mature full-figured woman in a grey boiler suit coming around the side of the house into the yard. She wore a matching grey baseball hat with a logo on the front that I couldn't make out. I was prepared to guess it said 'Karen's Kennels.' In one hand she had one of these loop things that you see dog wardens holding, a dog control pole. Her other hand was patting her knee, doing that 'here doggie' thing that brings pets running all excited towards their owners. Well, since this person was a stranger to me, I had no intention of running over to her, all excited puppy style. Also the fact that I was naked with my balls and cock hanging freely and she was a unknown woman had an inhibiting effect. But, at the same time, I put 'stranger danger' and all that aside, because I realised immediately that Karen's Kennels had come to collect me - right now!

The previous night, as she put me to bed in my crate, Mary had said that this would happen sometime today, but never gave a specific time. So the arrival of this person in our backyard while no accident, was just a bit sooner that I was prepared for.

Accepting that the next phase of my puppy play adventure was about to commence, I stood up. Still tied by my long leash to the tree in the middle of the yard, I knew the leash wouldn't let me reach to the side of the house. So I couldn't obey this person's request anyway. Not that I intended to resist it. No, this was going to happen and I accepted it. Though I was a bit disappointed that Mary had decided to dodge the touching farewell scene that usually accompanies the parting of the puppy from its loving owner, even if it is only for seventy-two hours. Maybe she is inside crying her eyes out, unable to face it, I speculated, in a wild flight of fancy as the grey clad dog catcher steadily approached.

'Down, Rover. Down on all fours,' she said, in that firm commanding voice, that assumed it would be obeyed. Patting the air downwards as she approached, making her wishes all the clearer. And I did go down on all fours, willingly. Took on a more dog-like pose, and waited docilely. There was something about her persona that said she was in charge. That I should leave everything to her. That I should just do what she says and everything would be alright. She'd done this lots of times before, I supposed, as she reached my side and quickly slipped the loop of her control stick over my head. I decided to call her the 'dog catcher' until I had another name for her.

'Good dog,' she murmured tentatively patting my head. Ready to snatch her hand away if necessary. Ready for the vicious snarling snap of an angry Rottweiler. Used to treading carefully around strange animals. Not knowing whether she was dealing with a biter or a poodle. I felt her quickly and quietly tighten the wire loop around my neck. Not super tight, just enough for me to know I couldn't pull my head out. She unclipped me from my leash and led me towards the side of the house. I followed behind her heavy brown work boots tamely, on all fours, sensing her relax as she realised she had a poodle on the end of her pole and not a Rottweiler. The dog catcher had done what she was sent to do. I was hers now. Whoever she was. Wherever she was taking me.

As we turned the corner from the back yard I saw that she had reversed her van up the driveway and parked alongside the side of the house, back doors open. All ready to load up her captive animal.

'Hop up there, Rover, and we'll get you settled.'

I decided a woof wasn't necessary as I climbed onto the floor of the van. And immediate burst of excited yapping from a small pooch in a small dog crate secured to the inside panel reminded me I was entering the world of dogs, becoming a dog in the eyes of the humans around be. They would see me as I saw that little dog. Just some animal to be tolerated and, if necessary, tamed. The dog catcher picked up a rope lead from the floor of the van and clipped it to my collar before removing the wire loop from my neck. No doubt the other end of the lead was attached to a secure anchor somewhere in the van. She had me safely tied into the van now. Job done. Another pet ready for transport. I assumed a seat belt was out of the question. I wasn't going to ask, anyway.

'I'm going to put you in a dog suit, Rover. We can't have you wandering around the kennel yard naked. Ordinary decent dog owners are coming and going all the time.'

'Woof.' I readily concurred. I felt this was good news and was worth agreeing with. Didn't want to bump into some horrified citizen while I was chasing around naked after a ball or something. Though the doggie mask helped a lot for anonymity, public nakedness was just not a good look in a fifty-six year old male. She was holding out a garment that looked a bit like the sort of shortie wetsuit surfers wear, with thigh length legs, arms that reach to above the elbow and a high neck. A very definite tail was attached somewhere at the back.

I obligingly lifted my left foot when requested. And the dog catcher slipped the leg of the suit over my foot, then pulled it over my black knee pad. The same for the right leg, tugging the wetsuit up past that knee pad and snug up against my crotch. She had me raise myself upon my knees while she briskly manoeuvred my balls through a small opening in the front of the suit. The suit seemed to thicken and harden at that point. Here I was, a grown man, having my balls manhandled by some unknown woman. She was about my own age, I guessed. It was not a sexy moment. To her it was just a job, I suppose. I felt strangely removed from the process too. Like I was standing outside and observing it happen. Maybe I'm growing into the doggie mindset, I speculated. Things happen to me and things are done to me and so be it. That's a dog's life.

It took her a bit of poking and then pulling to get done what she wanted to do. She drew a few 'ouches' from me as first one testicle and then the second was forced through the small opening. There was a small elasticated pouch made of black nylon mesh or some such fabric on the outside of the suit into which my testicles were pushed and now sat snugly. Now working from the outside, and gripping my enmeshed scrotum in one hand, the dog catcher, with no shame, like she did this every day, held it tight while pushing the suit firmly against my groin with her other hand. That was worth another, stronger 'ouch' from me. She didn't bat and eyelid, just went on to apply the same procedure for my cock, stuffing it into a smaller hole in front of the testicle hole. She poked it in as much as she could, then grabbed the tip of my cock, again through some sort of soft mesh and tugged it on through.

With that fussy bit of dressing me out of the way, the dog catcher had me put my arms, or fore paws, through the armholes, dragging them over my bulky mitts and elbow pads before pulling the suit onto my shoulders. The zipper for this dog suit was at the back. It ran at a slight diagonal from the small of my back to the neck. I felt the driver zip it up along my back and notch the zip closed on the left side of my neck, causing the suit to tighten around my torso.

At the top of my ass crack, I could feel a hard lump pressing on my coccyx. I guessed it was the root of my new tail. As if she knew I was wondering about it, the dog catcher jiggled my tail from the outside causing the nub inside the suit to rub over and back against my coccyx.

'That's the root of your tail, Rover. You'll get to wag it lots in the kennels,' she said, in case I hadn't figured it out. I liked it. It felt as if my body had acquired a new appendage. Which it had; a tail. Now I looked much more like a dog. More the sort of dog I wanted to be when I decided on the pet play experiment, as opposed to Mary's 'be a dog in your head' approach.

The suit was made of some brushed rubber material that gave the surface a shiny black hairy texture. Very dog like. I was becoming a black Labrador. A coolness on the inside of my ass cheeks and some way on up my ass crack told me that the suit had a cut-out so as to allow access there and, maybe, the possibility of pooing too without the suit coming off. Looking down the front I could see my cock and balls were both were snuggly contained, each within their own fine black nylon mesh pockets. Looking very natural and doglike, matching the colour of my 'fur.' I liked it. I waggled my ass and felt the root of my tail jiggle heavily against my coccyx.

'You're good to go, Rover. Now let's strap you in,' said the catcher, as she produced two broad straps from the depths of the van, connected them to anchor points in the floor of the cargo bay, front and back, and strapped them around my torso, one at my chest, the other around my waist. She ratcheted each belt tight holding me immobile from front and back. Made sense really, the catcher didn't want me getting damaged by slapping into the mesh that separated the cargo bay from the driver position if there was a sudden stop. Since I was strapped in place facing front, behind the passenger seat, I got to look out the front through the wire mesh.

Slamming the back doors shut, there was a brief delay before the catcher reappeared in front, settled into her seat and shut the door. I wondered if she'd had a few words with Mary then. Maybe telling her I had gone quietly. 'No trouble at all, Ma'am. He was as quiet as a lamb. I'm sure he'll do fine at the kennels. Do him a world of good.' Something like that. A few harmless words about the mutt strapped into the back of the van. Put Mary at her ease. In case she was worrying about me. As if.

After reaching into the glove compartment, the catcher turned in her seat and pointed a small remote at me. Immediately there was a low humming from my dog suit, down near my groin. The opening in the suit through which my testicles had been pulled tightened and shrank further.

'Ouch,' I protested, as the driver took her finger off the remote button.

'Don't worry, Rover. It only closes over so far. There is enough of an opening to allow circulation of whatever needs to circulate. But those balls are trapped out there until someone uses a remote, like this one, to open it back up. The final bit of the setup is to make your little doggie cock all snug too.'

Another another humming sound followed by a tightening of the opening through which she had pulled my cock. Not so bad this time. I suppose it's not possible to trap a cock in the same way as your balls. For which I was grateful.

'Now we're all set,' she said as much to herself as to her cargo, turning on the engine and moving slowly down my driveway. The small dog started yapping again as soon as it sensed the movement. It was a strange feeling, watching my own front gate slip behind us while the incessant barking signalled the new world I was entering. I resisted the urge to bark back at the little pest. Instead, I crouched down, putting my face inches from its little crate and gave a low, long growl, baring my teeth. The little mutt backed up to the back of its crate in fright, and shut up. Dog power.

The high mesh gates of Karen's kennels were set in off the road enough for the van to pull in and stop outside the gate. We were in the flat country somewhere north of the city. On either side of the gate ran a similarly high wire mesh fence. Behind the fence, a line of low trees screened the kennels from the road. There was the sense of entering a prison compound: the county prison farm, or something. You wouldn't be surprised if, going through the gates, you spied rows of men in black and white striped overalls shackled together while hoeing the fields.

After the catcher closed the gate behind us, we drove on and around a bend into a yard on one side of which were various outbuildings and a porta-cabin office. The other side was lined with a row of caged-off pens, like chicken runs. Inside each were several dogs, some sitting morosely, some jumping excitedly against the mesh barking at our van, others mooching around sniffing the ground and each other. At the back of each pen was a large kennel. Home, sweet home. Anxiously scanning the row of cages, I didn't spot any other human pet.

The catcher got out and opened the back doors of the van. I was suddenly vary aware that my ass hole was on display for her and anyone. I felt a bit vulnerable, strapped in the back of the van waiting for some human to do whatever they wanted with me. The small crate with the little yapping dog was pulled out by the dog catcher and carried away. That's when I heard her shout those fateful words across the yard; 'Here, Millie, I've got one for you.' I just knew that meant me. That I'd been got and now Millie was going to get me.

After a little delay, I heard footsteps approach the back of the van, and a different voice said.

'Now Rover, let's get you out of there and settled in.'

I decided not to 'woof' in reply. Better to wait and figure out the protocols for dog to human speaking in Karen's Kennels. The person who spoke, Millie I presumed, clambered into the cargo bay behind me. Before I could turn to see her, she had stepped right in front of me and crouched down bringing her face near to mine. Her two hands grasped my head and pulled it up so that we were looking into each other's eyes.

'Hi Rover. You going to be a good boy for me?' asked, or ordered, Millie playfully, her face about six inches from mine. So near that she was slightly out of focus. I could make out two sparkling brown eyes, a halo of golden hair and a cheerful snub nose. She seemed so young. It made me a bit nervous; the thought that this kid would have charge over me for the next three days. But I loved the way her hands gently gripped me under my jaws, her fingers slowly massaging my neck below my head harness. It was like you would see some pet lovers hold their pets face and kiss them on the nose or something gross like that.