QUOTE : I laughed from the doorway as I watched them struggle. She would wrap her arms around his neck to buckle the collar, and he would duck or shift to avoid her but he never got up and walked away. I caught a twinkle of amusement in his canine eyes. I knew Rachel wouldn’t give up getting a real collar on him. He needed proof of license. Yet, he appeared very determined to avoid the collar. It served him right. He was the one who chose to be a dog. Rachel mumbled again, and I decided to take pity on her. I knew how to reason with him. If Clay ever wanted to leave the house with me, he had to have a collar. I just needed to point that out. “Here.” I held out my hand. “I’ll try.” “Good luck,” she said with a laugh as she got off her knees and handed me the collar. She took my position in the doorway. “It was the biggest collar they had. I don’t even know if it fits, he won’t let me get close enough.” With a half-smile on my face, I knelt in front of Clay. I liked that he had a sense of humor when he interacted with Rachel. It made having him in the house tolerable...almost. I looked him in the eye. “Clay, if you want to be able to go anywhere with us, you need a collar we can clip a leash on. Not just the twine you have holding your tag around your neck.” He didn’t move so I leaned forward and reached for the string that held his current joke of a tag. He held still for me while I removed the twine and replaced it with the real collar. “At least it’s not pink,” I said and patted him before I realized what I was doing. I’d forgotten myself again and treated him like a dog. I quickly stood and avoided Clay’s direct gaze. Rachel laughed. “Hey, I wouldn’t do that to him. No pink for our man. I don’t know why he sat still for you and not me.” I’d forgotten about Rachel. She moved to pet and praise him for his good behavior. If I wanted a chance of having a friend as a roommate, I knew I needed to deal with Clay as a pet. But, I needed to watch myself. The direction of my thoughts—his assumed permanent residency in the house—troubled me. Making him comfortable and buying him a license wouldn’t help me get rid of him. Rachel gave him a kiss, and he sighed. Maybe, he’d grow tired of her affection and run back to Canada. I held onto that happy thought. “He’s moody,” I said, looking into his eyes. Moody and stubborn with a quirky sense of humor. Not a good combination.