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A week after the shepherd-lab returned, Pink Nose and I were beginning to share simple conversations. He'd mastered the basics and was steadily gaining vocabulary. Watching him learn was probably the best thing for Terrier-face, Fatty and the shepherd-lab as well. They were all motivated, handicapped primarily by memorization and some decisions in the language structure that had come naturally to the black lab and myself, but not necessarily to them.

When Pink Nose had proven to me that he could understand my words, respond and ask questions of his own, I decided to ask him about Spinner. Spinner had remained a big part of Pink Nose's life, and the two of them were pretty much inseparable during the time that he didn't spend with me, but Spinner had no interest in a bunch of dogs laying around doing nothing obvious with each other and we had not attempted to sit him down to music again either.

We were under the canopy over the fountain. I happened to be in the center of a grooming ring of about seven dogs, including myself, Fatty and the shepherd-lab and the dogs who'd shown up to ogle at and appreciate our respective sizes while offering a well appreciated service to us. Pink nose was licking my belly, where the stretch marks were getting particularly fierce. Despite what felt like a cut-back to my diet, I was still putting on weight and bizarrely still growing, though thankfully not as rapidly as before. I'd gotten another inch at my withers since my fight and I stretched my hind legs into Pink Nose's round tummy, relishing the resistance. My joints sometimes hurt me for all the growth.

I brought up the matter once Pink Nose had gotten the skin on my tummy soothed and lathered. I turned his head up to my face with a paw and asked, "Do you recall about Spinner and the music that day in the past?"

Pink Nose seemed surprised that I was asking, but nodded - something the black lab had picked up from humans I imagine - He said, "I remember."

"What were you trying to do with Spinner?" I asked and Pink Nose took a few moments to respond. Either because he was raking his memory or because the subject still hurt him, I couldn't tell.

"I was..." Again, he hesitated. But I waited and didn't force him. Different Alpha to different dogs. "I was... trying to make him smart... With the music."

The answer clicked in my mind, filling in the blanks of what I had observed that day. It seemed like a desperate move, and I could imagine how crestfallen he must have been when Spinner had left. I wanted to comfort him. "Why make Spinner smart? Let Spinner be Spinner."

Pink Nose's eyes lowered. Behind me, someone pushed hard into the fat padding my spine and I shivered in physical delight. I tried not to let too much of it show on my face. Pink Nose lowered his snout and gave my great belly a few more licks. I thought that he might not answer me, but then he came back up. "But Spinner wants to be smart. He told me so."

It seemed unlikely, but then I'd seen the two of them communicating myself. "Then tell him to come to our Talkies." That was our word for our language development meetings.

Pink Nose shook his head. "He won't learn that way. He can't sit still." His eyes lowered again, "I feel bad for him."

I shrugged my meaty shoulders. Above me, the shepherd-lab shifted his weight and a soft, spongey mass of unidentifiable fat pushed against my head. I growled my irritation at him and he abjectly moved back the other way, whining apology. I looked down at Pink Nose, "Spinner is Spinner." I said again. "Why change him?"

By that I also got across why does he care about Spinner and not some other dog. The answer surprised me. "Because we share the same father."

If he had said shared the same mother, I could have understood that. Puppies arrive smelling strongly of their mother and her milk on their breaths for days afterwards. But the father? I honestly don't even recall a father ever being present in my life. How could he possibly know something like that? I wasn't afraid to ask him either.

"It's in our blood." He replied. "We smell... close. But he did not smell like my mother. Thus, we must have the same father."

To me, it seemed like flimsy logic, but I thought that was only because I'd grown up with the deeply philosophical black lab as my mentor. I didn't want to throw a wrench in his understanding at a stage where he was still learning, so I let it pass. But then Pink Nose asked me something more personal.

"Don't you want your brother to be smart like you?"

That one caught me off guard. I honestly hadn't given it a thought. I'd been so preoccupied with my current students, the possibility of trying to gather own hyper brother under my wing for the same education hadn't occurred to me. Considering it at first, it seemed like a bad idea. My brother was hyperactive - not unlike Spinner actually, although he shared something of my famous appetite and was quite a bit heavier - and the sit down work of the Talkies is not well suited to him. No, it was a bad idea, but after it was mentioned, my un-doggish emotions took hold. Didn't I owe something to my brother? If not for him, certainly I would not have been so quick on my feet for my fight with the shepherd-lab. I might have even lost without his help and support. Shouldn't I at least try to show him something missing from his simple life?

Then again, it wasn't like I was offering happiness or even pleasure. My brother was as happy as a dog could be and I found a part of myself wanting him to stay that way. To protect him even... But was ignorance really a source of happiness or just an illusion? I felt torn up inside just from Pink Nose's simple suggestion. I got up without responding properly to Pink Nose, but my behavior probably told him what he needed to know. I stepped over the bodies of the other dogs who lifted their heads after me, wondering why I was leaving.

My saliva coated belly was pleasantly cool in the afternoon breeze, almost too cool actually. The sun was not so warm as it used to be. I had some instinct for the year's cycle in my animal blood, but still, the sun growing more distant with every passing week struck me as ominous, even if the weather was getting more pleasant for us fur covered dogs. I sought out my brother at once, needing to get this conflict in my head resolved. Another great thing about being a dog was such a lack of hindrance between needing to get something done and getting it done rather than brooding on it.

I found him playing with one of my two other brothers and three other younger dogs. It still amazed me how much smaller they were. I was like a horse standing over the younger dogs by this point. They noticed me at once and two of the younger dogs darted off. My brother and his sibling froze and sat, looking up at me; I say his sibling here because to me, I only really ever had one brother even if I was biologically related to two others.

Both of them were approaching adolescence, but were still nowhere near their adult sizes. My brother's sibling was significantly heavier than him, but not so much as to be out of ordinary. In fact, my brother was on the lighter side of average for his age in the yard. I stared down at him as I towered over the puppies. I snorted once in each of their directions and that was enough for them to scamper off. I was left with my brother who looked up at me unafraid. Then he rose and planted his forepaws on my hanging, peach-sized brisket. I let him lick my face. I lifted my tail and that was all the invitation he needed to play.

He was so much faster than me. I jogged and he ran circles around me, barking in his cheerful puppy voice. I kept turning my head after him, thinking all the while, "I should have been like this, but I'm not, I'm different... Special."

I ended up turning my head one too many times trying to follow him. When I looked up, suddenly the world seemed to be turning. I stumbled and was forced to sit on my butt. At my shoulder, my brother reared up again and playfully nipped at my ear, unsatisfied with my performance. "Dizzy... you're making me dizzy."

I hadn't meant to speak because I knew he couldn't possibly understand me, but my brother yapped at me, turned a circle then jumped up again with his paws on my shoulder, excitedly waving his golden tail. "Dizzy" I said again and he barked cheerfully. I didn't know it at the time, but I was naming my brother. What I did know, however was that he had a glimpse of something there when I spoke. And if there was so much as a spark of understanding, well, then he deserved his chance to be more than just a dog. Spinner too, for that matter.

Getting Spinner and my newly christened brother Dizzy into the Talkies was probably the hardest thing I'd ever done in my life, save for beating up the shepherd-lab. They didn't want to sit still for one thing and for another, they bounced readily off each other. So readily in fact, that I had to teach each of them separately once it was clear they were distracting each other. Even with that adjustment, it seemed hopeless. Neither Dizzy nor Spinner could be coaxed to stay with us for more than a few minutes before wandering off and while they were there, it was clear that the motions of our bodies and the sounds of our voices were too nuanced to hold their attention.

To be honest, I had already given up after the first few days, but Pink Nose persevered, filled with his conviction that Spinner wanted this, despite all the outward evidence contrary. To my surprise and eventual delight it was him, not me, that came up with the solution.

I would never have thought of the idea, nor would the shepherd-lab or Fatty for obvious reasons. Given his stature, I was surprised he thought of it himself. But one evening, right after dinner, we had a Talkie and what did Pink Nose do but spit out a huge mouthful of kibble that he had stored in his cheeks. I looked down at the small pile of kibble and it looked just as good as it did to me in the bowl, despite the fact that I'd stuffed myself not five minutes earlier. The shepherd-lab seemed of the same mind, but Fatty was salivating openly. I growled at him and snapped before he even tried to move. Then I turned to Pink Nose. "What's this for?"

"For Spinner and Dizzy." He replied. "The humans train us to obey. We can train them to talk."

Glances were exchanged all around the group. It was a bold suggestion. Bolder for the fact that food was like a sacred object to some of us, handed down in person from our collective masters. The lab techs didn't always show up after hours to play with us, but they invariably showed up to deliver the food and that's what most of us associated the three lab techs with. The kibble still sat on the ground gleaming, seeming somehow... forbidden. But it was an exhilarating sense, almost as if we were keeping a secret from our human overlords. We were actually keeping several secrets, but we didn't realize it at the time.

I was at my wits end with the two hyper dogs, so I was not about to throw the idea out on any grounds. I looked at Terrier-face who was the least fat of our group and so was stuck with a lot of the grunt work. "Go get... Spinner." I commanded, thinking that Pink Nose would have the best chance with his own supposed sibling. He rose and stalked off. We didn't have to wait long before the two dogs came running back. Spinner caught sight of the small food pile right away and made for it.

I started to get up, but Pink Nose was ahead of me. He postured himself over the little pile and a growl rumbled from his thickened neck. Spinner got the message. The shepherd-lab had to scoot over to make room. He did so by sitting upright and then dragging his heavy bottom a short way without getting up. The flesh of his rump, his fatty tail shelf and his huge belly which sagged more loosely than ever for the weight loss still afflicting him, dragged over the grass making a rasping noise. The shepherd-lab grumbled a few curses he had learned already before settling his huge body down again. I still worried about him and wondered if he would ever get better...

Spinner sat down and I let Pink Nose take the lead. He started with our word for food, which was synonymous with "kibble." He said it to Spinner's face, trying to get him to repeat it. He just got a blank stare in return and then Spinner's eye began to wander. But Pink Nose was resolute. He broke off a piece from the drying pile of food and offered it to Spinner with a paw, saying "food" again. No response as Spinner took it. I noticed that Spinner was now paying attention to Pink Nose now.

"Food." Said Pink Nose again, breaking off another piece. He began to push it towards Spinner, but instead of letting him take it, he put his paw over it. Spinner naturally pushed his nose at the paw, and licked at it, trying to get to the bit of kibble.

"Spinner!" said Pink Nose firmly and the black and white dog looked up. "Food. Food!" said Pink Nose emphatically.

They looked at each other's eyes and again, I saw that passage of feelings between them, but Pink Nose's language didn't have any nouns, there was still a leap for Spinner to make to begin to understand.

"Foooo...duh" Spinner drawled like a puppy and Pink Nose grinned while removing his paw. It was a break through.

We worked with Spinner for as long as he could take it and then I sent Terrier-face after my brother. I had similar difficulties trying to coax him, but he was not so attention deficit as Spinner and was able to pick up my meaning with the promise of food holding him. We used up the last of the small pile on him before he inevitably wandered off. He and Spinner found each other somewhere out in the darkening yard and they started shouting "Food!" at each other. That was good for a laugh between the five of us still at our Talkie.

We celebrated the success that night, all but chatting, though conversation was still an effort for most of us. Pink Nose had succeeded in reaching the most unlikely members of our pack. And everyone knew what that meant. If any of us could be reached, if any of us could learn to speak, why it could change our world.