“Walk?” asked Tyson.

 

Amanda labored and grunted to turn over on the couch.

 

”Not today, Tyson,” she said. As she went to turn back over and close her eyes, she felt Tyson’s big paw on her back.

 

“Walk,” he said again.

 

Amanda groaned aloud in annoyance.

 

“Are you kidding me? I’m starting to think that this A.I. translator collar your grandma gave us was a bad idea,” said Amanda.

 

“Why?” Asked Tyson, cocking his floppy ears at her and smiling through his panting.

 

“Because it’s six in the morning, and you’ve woken me up a full hour before I have to go to work, and you’re talking to me and asking me for a walk.”

 

Tyson stopped panting and then pushed her with both paws.

 

“Not for me,” he said.

 

Resigned to being awake, Amanda threw off the blankets and tried to roll over to get up. It took her several tries to build momentum, and she eventually sat up.

 

”What is that supposed to mean? The translator must be malfunctioning. Come here,” she said, reaching out to Tyson. But the dog quickly moved out of her reach from grabbing his collar. He took a defiant sit in the middle of the room.

 

“Walk,” Tyson said. Amanda stopped struggling on the couch due to the mood change in Tyson’s voice.

 

Tyson sounded serious.

 

“Tyson walk you,” he said.

 

“You walk me? No, that’s not how this works. You’re the dog. You need to walk. I walk you,” Amanda said.

 

“No,” Tyson barked, “Tyson walk you to rid of (unable to translate) smell.”

 

Amanda went white.

 

“What was that? What smell?”

 

Tyson barked again and repeated his sentence. The translator failed to find the word.

 

”Are you calling me smelly!?” Yelled Amanda.

 

She threw a pillow as her anger willed her to her feet. Tyson easily dogged the pillow, backing up as Amanda waddled toward her longtime pet.

 

“Yes. Smell like stop breathing,” said Tyson.

 

“I knew this was a bad idea! The last thing I need is a dog telling me that I smell and that I’m going to stop—“

 

Amanda froze in the middle of the room as she connected her eyes with Tyson’s.

 

“Wait,” she said, “You mean…” but she couldn’t bring herself to say the words out loud. Tyson wagged his tail as Amanda’s labored panting filled the room. She turned towards the full-length mirror she often avoided and looked down at herself.

 

“Tyson want Amanda to keep breathing,” said the bloodhound. ”Tyson, walk you.”

 

Amanda looked over her body and let her hands go over the folds of her stomach. She had always hated her mother telling her to take care of herself. Everyone had always said something similar, but hearing it from a dog hit her differently.

 

“Okay,” she said, walking to the closet. Tyson barked in circles as she put on her walking shoes, then followed her to the door to go out. Amanda instinctively reached for the leash.

 

Tyson looked at the leash in her hand, then at her.

 

”Are you kidding me?” said Tyson. Amanda laughed.

 

”Guess these walks will work differently now, aren’t they?” said Amanda.

 

She put the leash back on the hook, opened the door, then walked with her dog.