"Here, let me get you some of your favorite," she said in a childish voice.

Janet was standing on tip-toes, reaching into one of the higher kitchen cabinets when she felt Bodego's nose brush over her right ankle.

"Ohhhh…"

She jerked back, nearly falling on her buttocks. Several cans of dogfood spilled from the upper shelf, hitting the floor and rolling helter-skelter around the kitchen.

Why had she reacted that way? Why was she holding her stomach like that? Why had her cunt gone into tremors of need?

Bodego was still standing there, his stubby tail no longer wagging back and forth so rapidly. His fuzzy head was tilted to one side, those beautiful dark brown eyes rolled up to her, looking at her questioningly. Half-formed terrible ideas were starting to float through her mind. No, no, she wouldn't even dare entertain what she guessed she was thinking about. It was too sick, too awful even to ponder.

"Just wait, just wait…"

Janet was panting, actually panting with excitement. Of course it wasn't the dog's fault. Perhaps a cold shower, a session in bed with her more than experienced fingers would take the edge off once more.

"I'll be back," Janet said, turning and walking from the kitchen.

But then something strange happened, something even years later Janet would never be able to explain. Bodego followed her out, his head down low, his nostrils quivering as he picked up the scent of her overheated cunt. It wasn't until she reached the stairs that Janet realized what was happening. The idea that he was smelling her, scouting her out as if she were a neighborhood bitch horrified her. The woman wanted to grab something and throw it at him. Instead she stopped by the landing, her fingers gripping tightly onto the dark mahogany railing.