February has always been hell. There was never any loving warmth from family for me to stave off the bitter cold. Business always called most tourists back to their own homes by now leaving garbage cans once overflowing with leftovers fairly empty, and the shelters were always full up and not willing to take in new tenants. None of it matters though. They would never let me in. They think I'm dangerous.

I curl up under a small pile of discarded cardboard, and try to ignore the freezing rain as it patters around me. Most days I try and sleep. It distracts me from my hunger, but today I'm getting ready to die. I'm tired of the cold and the rain, and I was hoping that this life would be a nice vacation from my normally stressful incarnations, but no such luck. I've made some good friends. There is this rascal a few blocks down I used to walk with from time to time. People called him 'Lucky'. He lost a leg in an accident a few years back. He's a big ol' brute. Hair is falling out left and right, thin, cracked tooth - but he's the happiest maniac this side of the universe. I love him, and if I could I'd take him with me - but I can't. So I think this time around I'll help out.

I cross my paws in front of me and bury my face into my thinning fur. I've been on this earth in this form for six and a half years. I hoped I'd find a family by now, but nobody wants a mutt. I've got a face like a pit bull, the body of a rott, and my brown fur is falling out in patches. My tail is infected, and my paws are cracked. People think I'm dangerous. Maybe I am. I could make this all go away with a single word. Don't they know who I am? Don't they know I control everything? I decided how the world turns. I decide which stars die, and when. I can see the beginning and the end of the universe and I know that human beings are nothing more than a little flicker of life that will die as quickly as it sprang to the ground but in the end, nothing really matters. None of them matter.

But dogs. I like dogs. I think this time around I'll be born a dog catcher. I won't hurt 'em though. I'll feed them. I'll catch lucky. I'll give him a good home. He's a good boy. He deserves that.

Time to go.

For the first time in months, I feel my tail wag. I'm happy again. I'm excited.

Now it's time to go.