Maybellelight Presents
By CDF
Maybellelight, your choice of fine cosmetics, presents
‘My Life as a Dog’ by Cdr. Lee B. Crane, captain of the submarine Seaview and
recently of the US Marine K-9 Corps.
We were graciously granted an interview with the commander
following his ordeal of having been changed into a dog. That’s right. In fact,
he was morphed into a fluffy, curly furred Labradoodle, which is a mix of
Poodle and Labrador. His fur black, and his eyes brown (not his usual Hazel
color).
He was turned into a canine by enchantment and circumstance. In
plain English, by magic.
Yes, magic. But before you call the kiddies to read them this
article, remember that the court case has not been settled and the US and
Norwegian Bar, ( not kind that serves alcoholic drinks), are maintaining that
Cdr.Crane’s transformation may also have been due to one of Admiral Nelson’s
experiments gone wrong. (Which said admiral denies.)
Nelson, in the attempt to correct the transformation caused a new
morph into, of all things, a cute little crocheted doll. Nelson tried again and
this time his captain was morphed back into a Labradoodle, but younger. In fact
into a cute, adorable puppy. (Nelson found himself a cute, adorable puppy as
well, cause unknown.)
The original enchantment of Cdr. Crane into a dog is said to have
been caused by Norwegian Mrs. Kat Clawhand, now
disproved as the widow of Dr. iles Clawhand.
Mrs. Clawhand has never denied
her use of the ‘Black Arts’, aka witchcraft, a tradition passed down
through the years by her ancestors, for mostly homeopathic cures for
what ails you.
The family dog wandered off a few years ago, never to be seen
again, causing Mrs. Clawhand clinical depression.
Using her special skills, her husband served as a substitute dog
every full moon but he grew tired of his transformations and demanded she do
something else.
Instead of going to the local animal shelter or rescue leagues the
couple decided, after one look at the tall, dark, and handsome Cdr. Crane, that
he would be the ideal choice for a new pet.
Using a potion added to the commander’s beer when he and Nelson
visited (Nelson was an old colleague of Dr. Clawhand),
and the use of enchantment, Cdr. Crane soon found himself as the Seaview’s dog.
Prior to his own unexplained transformation a short while later,
Nelson offered the exchange of his submarine Seaview to Mrs. Clawhand for the return of his captain to humanity.
But after his transformation the US government rejected the idea.
(Seaview is a US Navy Reserve vessel).
Then both man-pups were drafted into the US Marine Corps as part
of the K-9 Corps for their own protection.
Assigned to Camp Pendleton the new recruits received basic
training and specialization skills for search
and rescue and sniffing out drugs and explosives.
Meanwhile, Kat Clawhand was
persuaded to reverse her incantation which now included returning Nelson back
to humanity as well.
When asked about their time in the Marines,
Admiral Nelson had no comment. Cdr. Crane, however, was more than happy to sit
down with some of our representatives and speak about his life, if brief, with
the leathernecks. He even wrote some of his experience down for us.
In addition, he stated that our canine shampoo which had
been used by the K-9 Corps, left his fur soft and sweet smelling. Something
rather important, he stressed, when one is a dog in a group of dogs
on active service.
And so now we present ‘My Life as a Dog’ by Cdr. Lee B. Crane.
Enjoy the tale. (Sorry, couldn’t resist.)
My Life as a Dog
By Lee B. Crane
Most everyone knows now that Admiral Nelson and I were changed
into dogs, Labradoodles by breed, so I won’t go into that or what happened
aboard Seaview here, except that we were well treated by our crew.
The following is a recap of what it was like to be a dog in the US
Marines.
0500. Reveille. First Day.
Herded from the not too uncomfortable kennel, except I sure
could have used a pillow, to the morning’s chow line. Whatever the brand, the
chow was hard as rocks. Still, canine teeth made short work of it.
0515. Latrine duty.
Nelson (who got to keep his own name) and I were herded into the
fenced lawn, where we were expected to tend to nature. I Found it rather
disgusting, especially in front of the girl dogs.
0545. Introductions.
Nelson was handed over to Master Sergeant Seth Simpson for basic
training which included substance location training.
I was handed over to Sergeant Emily Plyle,
for my basic raining which included explosive device detection.
I have to say Sgt. Pyle was pretty darn firm, which surprised
me. I’m sorry to say I can be a
bit old fashioned and chauvinistic regarding the fair sex, even as a dog.
Basic training was easy enough. Sit, stay, halt, run, attack, etc.
etc. But sniffing out explosives? I already knew what Cordite smelled like, but
there sure were others I had to learn. I’m afraid my doggie nose was having a
difficult time of it.
I was amazed how hard it was to sniff out potential problems.
After all, I have years of submarine training and sniffing out trouble,
figuratively, before it becomes critical is a just part of the job of a sub
commander.
And oh, how I missed my boat!
The relationship between trainer and dog is usually strictly
professional but maybe due to my being a pup, Sgt. Pyle began to treat me more
and more as a canine companion than a working dog. I was also surprised that
she called me Cuddles! And I had not been in any way affectionate!
Soon most everyone called me that. They even put it on my dog
tags! Really, I had a military dog tag. Only no service number. Just my name,
which, to my chagrin was now officially ‘Cuddles’.
Emily, I feel free to call her that now, and her
friends had a hard time not running their hands through my fur and petting me,
even when I was ‘on duty’, much to Chief Sgt.
Simpson’s disgust. I was a working dog, not a pet, he repeatedly warned
Emily. She actually got called into the base commander’s office for an official
reprimand. But I sat, stayed, growled, barked, lunged to attack, heeled, etc.
and obeyed all of the doggie commands she had to demonstrate to the commander,
without me once becoming cuddly, even if she did ruffle my fur once we were out
of the commander’s office.
1100. Vet visit.
I decided never complain to Doc again, should I ever return to my
former self. Checking my ears, nose, and throat was one thing, but squeezing my
bottom very hard to see if my anal glands-a canine thing, were swollen or
impacted? That was just too humiliating.
1130. Return to the kennel.
Glad for a bit of R&R, though I was still suspicious that none
of the other occupants seemed to understand Nelson and me. At least
we could complain together about how much we missed our independence and
disliked being treated like dogs. Pun intended.
1200. Lunch, sort of. Maybe.
New clean water in my dish, and a couple of beef jerky’s and dog
biscuits were served.
I made a friend for life when I nosed jerky and biscuits over the
concrete flooring into cage to my left. Nelson complained that I should have
pushed it over to him. That scared me and I was fearful that he was really
turning into a dog, body and soul. But when he said he’d kill for a whiskey I
knew my fears were groundless.
1300 Latrine duty again.
Ugh.
1400 More basic training. This time attack mode. I guess my heart
just wasn’t in it. I knew I could attack if anyone was in real danger. But this
was just practice. Pretend. So I’m afraid Emily only said ‘Good Boy!’ once and
shook her head most of the time as I continued to disappoint her.
I’m a trained naval officer. I was used to obeying orders as well
as giving them. Perhaps being a dog had warped my mind more than I cared to
admit as I hesitated in most all aspects of ‘attack mode’.
1600. Supper.
This time it was chunks of meat in my bowl. Raw and cooked. I
couldn’t figure out what kind of meat it was. Frankly, I was so hungry I
gobbled it all down without really trying to figure it all out.
Nelson was surprised at my appetite and told me that once we were
human again, ‘paws crossed’, that he’d tell Cookie to serve me the same. I was
not amused. God, how to get out of this mess?
1700. Supervised play time.
Nelson excelled at Frisbee. I might have been somewhat athletic in
my former self, but wasn’t too good at the toss and fetch games compared to my
canine buddies.
I could tell my doggie companions were laughing at my ineptitude.
Even so, I found myself being stroked and petted a lot unlike
them.
At least Nelson understood, used to me being fawned and
petted over. Oh, I could write a book about how hard it was growing up cute,
being judged for that alone. And now as a dog, the same thing!
Chief Sgt. Simpson picked me up, and put me into a van, much to
Nelson’s distress if he whining meant anything. I was worried as well. Was I on
the reject list? Where was I going? I might be a puppy but being kicked out of
the Marines, oh the shame of it.
But the van stopped by the base gym where a basketball game was
being played. A kid’s game. I guess they were the sons and daughters of the
leathernecks and civilian workers on the base.
Instincts I didn’t know I had kicked in and soon I was running
after the bouncing ball and interfering with the players but nobody minded when
I got in the way. Once, I caught the ball with my canine teeth and jumped up
into the air as high as I could to put it in the hoop. The kids whooped and
hollered with glee and I ran around with the excited kids in sheer
ecstasy. And boy was I surprised as I detest basketball!
And I was cuddled and petted and smothered with affection by the
kids. I should have been happy but noticed Simpson scowling.
Soon Simpson called me to comer over, which I didn’t obey as I has
enjoying a belly rub. Hey, I was a dog, I might as well enjoy it.
1900. Latrine duty.
Enough said.
2100. Taps
When I was returned to the kennel, I overheard Simpson telling
Emily that, as he’d expected, I was more a family dog than a Marine. The fact
that I’d disobeyed him proved it.
Then he said that I’d be leaving the canine corps and placed in a
local shelter for adoption.
Emily argued that I hadn’t been given a chance to prove myself as
a Marine. And that I was only a pup, after all.
In the end Simpson agreed to let me finish the course, but that he
had grave misgivings about my future with the corps.
Nelson tried to encourage me by reminding me that Simpson was
unfairly judging me by that one disobedient incident and probably also
by my looks. I was just too cute, even as a dog.
2400.
As I looked up to the narrow window high above the row of our
kennel cages, I found I couldn’t resist howling at the moon. Soon we all were.
Boy, were the security guards pissed and yelled at all of us until
they blew a whistle. Oh gawd, it hurt. We cowered on the cold hard cement
flooring of our cages and my doggie colleagues all glared at me, except for
Nelson, sympathetic to my sudden canine urge.
Soon we were all fast asleep. But the security guys weren’t. They
were checking the security cameras which I was to learn in the morning.
0500 Revile.
Leashed and led into the base commander’s office again, surprised
to see him up and on duty already.
“Cuddles started it,” one of the guards said as the security
camera played on the desktop computer.
“Simpson’s reports don’t indicate that he’s a natural leader,” the
commander said.
I growled at the insult! I was just howling at the moon. A normal,
doggie thing. And I certainly was a leader. Just hadn’t gotten my doggie
bearings yet.
Same schedule as yesterday’s.
Same unpalatable chow except I didn’t
care anymore.
1700 Supervised play time.
I was actually enjoying trying to catch the worn out Frisbee when
I noticed something behind the fence.
A child’s mother was pointing to us, speaking to
her toddler when someone grabbed the stroller holding her infant and
hurried off.
She didn’t even notice. But I did, ran, and jumped over the fence
after the kidnapper. He was yelling as I held him down, growling, baring my
teeth before everyone noticed and came to his defense. But I wouldn’t let go.
Simpson was going to fire a taser at me but the mother picked up her baby from
the stroller, sobbing, tearfully, and bent down to pet me. “The
dog saved my baby! He saved my baby!”
Only then did I let go of my hold on the culprit.
There were too many ‘Good Boy!’s to count. Even Simpson had one for me. Emily
was called over to collect me, but it was hard for her as I was being petted,
ruffled, and smothered by affectionate and grateful citizenry while the police
took the kidnapper away and obtained reports of what had happened.
One of the officers, a woman, bent down to pet me.
“I think we’ll make you an honorary cop!”
“Not allowed, ma’am,” Simpson said. “Cuddles is a Marine. Can’t be
in two separate services at the same time.”
He was wrong, of course. As a human I had been in more than a few
military agencies at the same time, but that’s another story.
The officers took pictures and it was all in the local papers
later that afternoon. I’d have liked to have kept some of them, but they were
laid out in the kennel for our daily brushings and toenail trimmings.
Nobody at the base complained about me howling at the moon that
night.
0500 Revile.
Reasonable night’s sleep but I was anxious. Homesick for my boat.
Homesick for my humanity. At least I still had Nelson, who, adjusting to life
as a dog was still as human as I was. We only had each other to actually talk
to, and chatted later over chow, as he tried to figure out how he too, had
become a dog. But no scientific theorems were forthcoming.
Noon.
Taken to the Base Commander’s office for a press conference.
I tried to make Emily proud by being the best damn Marine I could
be, instantly obeying each and every demo.
I was even given a certificate for good behavior, (the US military
doesn’t give their service dogs medals like the Brits do), but I was
embarrassed just the same. I’d only done what any of my canine companions would
have done had they seen the kidnapper.
The affected family was there too for pictures and the home made
medal they’d made for me out of construction paper was placed over my head. It
was hard not to be proud of this award of the heart. I just didn’t know how my
canine companions would think about it all.
In the end, canine cat calls (figuratively) greeted me as I was
returned to the kennel later. I had no choice but to hide in the corner of my
cell, while my ‘medal’ was draped on the wire of my cage.
2100 Taps
“Want to talk about it?” Nelson asked me as I tried to get
comfortable.
“It’s not fair,” I told him. “You, all of our kennel mates, would
have done the same.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You took action. That’s all that
counts to that little family. Now, aren’t you forgetting something?”
“Huh?”
“The moon, you numbskull, the moon!”
I laughed, well as much as a dog can laugh, and took my position
in my cell that I could best see the moon through the window above and began to
howl, joined by Nelson and all of our doggie companions.
0500 Revile.
Had a visitor this morning.
“Angie! Angie!” Nelson and I woofed as she was led to our cells.
(Angie was Nelson’s administrative assistant at NIMR.)
“I know you can’t understand,” she told us, “but we’re trying so
hard to get you both back to normal. I won’t bore you with the details. But I
brought you both a treat! They’re putting the wieners in your food bowls
now...and some bacon Cookie fried up, just how you like it, Lee...I mean,
Cuddles. Oh, how I could cuddle you...Lola too, only she’s got the late shift
today...” then she began to cry. “Oh God, oh God...I miss the real you’s so much!”
All we could do was reach our paws through the wire holes before
the guards escorted her back to the office.
As good as the bacon and wieners were that we had later, both
Nelson and I were pretty depressed.
And then it happened! A poof of blue smoke found us both suddenly
human again, our uniforms rumpled, and in need of showers and a shave.
“Never thought toothpaste could taste so good,” I said later as we
attended to our ablution’s in the base gym’s
locker room.
“Didn’t think we’d look so good in these borrowed Marine
uniforms,” Nelson said,
The base commander had seen to us being given dress uniforms,
minus our ribbons, except one, in my case. The home- made star had been placed
prominently on my jacket. And I’d been ordered by Nelson to just grin and bear
it as the family had been notified of our return to humanity and would be at
the gate.
And so we said our goodbyes to the base commander, Chief Sgt.
Simpson, and Sgt. Pyle.
The return to NIMR and to Seaview was a blessed relief. Though I
was embarrassed to find my ‘official’ K-9 portrait and dog tags in the Crew’s
Quarters.
As for Dr. and Kat Clawhand, well,
justice will just have to wait for the courts to convene, though I find myself
a bit sympathetic as to their emotional state at the time of their crime.
Well, that’s about it, about my life as a dog, though I may be
haunted by it as is my crew, for they were playing catch and Frisbee on NIMR
grounds when they saw me, and called me over to see if I wanted to join them,
instantly regretting that I might take offense. After all, I’d played catch and
Frisbee with them as a dog.
Instead, I tried to put their minds at ease and joined in the fun.
Too bad I didn’t retain that doggie dexterity and found I was
absolutely no good at the games as a human. My musings were interrupted by Doc
who demanded a physical exam. At least he didn’t have to squeeze my bottom.
As for my life as a dog, what can I say. It was...illuminating.
The End