"Come on, let's get you something to eat," Mikey said.
Jon felt himself being gently pushed downstairs and into the kitchen. Mikey poured some water into a dish and some kibble into another. "Eat," he said.
He shook his head. He wasn't a dog, he wasn't going to eat kibble.
"You'll eat when you're hungry," he said, going back upstairs.
Jon paced the kitchen on all fours. He wasn't going to act like a pet, he decided.
He tried to get into the fridge, but getting the door open proved a harder chore than he'd expected. He did finally get it open, but all the food was in bags or containers, which he couldn't get open.
Finally, he knocked a bag of bread off the botton shelf, dislodging several canisters, which rolled around on the floor. He placed a paw on the back, then ripped it open with his teeth and knawed on the white bread.
He was still eating when the front door opened, and his mother came in. "What are you doing?! Bad Jon..." She demanded, pulling the bread away from him and shooing him out of the kitchen. "Mikey!" She called.
The boy came down the stairs. "Yeah?"
"Having a pet means you have to be responsible. Now, take him upstairs to your room while I clean this mess up."
Mikey pulled on a collar Jon discovered was around his neck and pulled the boy turned dog back up to his bedroom. "Why'd you get me in trouble? Why can't you behave?" Mikey asked him.
He reached for the goggles and headphones, and applied them to Jon.
