Jamie stomped across the lawn, frustration etched on his young face after another argument with his parents. He kicked the soccer ball hard, sending it crashing into a flowerbed. The petals scattered, and a stern voice called out from the open patio door. Grandma Mabel, her eyes wise and knowing, watched the scene unfold.

Grandma Mabel led Jamie inside, her tone gentle but firm. "Actions have consequences, dear. Sometimes, a lesson must be learned the hard way," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. Jamie scowled, arms crossed, unwilling to listen. Grandma Mabel's eyes sparkled with an unusual glint as she reached into her apron pocket.

Grandma Mabel whispered ancient words, and a soft glow enveloped Jamie. He blinked as his body shifted—ears lengthening, fur sprouting, limbs reshaping. In moments, he found himself on all fours, a fluffy tail wagging behind him, his clothes replaced by a soft, pastel collar. He glanced into the hall mirror and gasped at the sight: a dog girl with bright, obedient eyes.

Jamie padded uncertainly outside, her senses overwhelmed by the fresh, earthy smells. The neighbors' dogs barked, and she found herself wagging her tail in response. Mom stepped outside, not recognizing her transformed child, and patted her head. "What a sweet puppy! Aren’t you a good girl?" The words stirred something unfamiliar—an urge to obey and please.

"Do you understand now, Jamie?" Grandma Mabel asked, stroking her soft fur. Jamie whined softly, regret shimmering in her big, brown eyes. "Yes, Grandma. Arf! Woof! Bark! Bark!" Jamie is surprised that she can only bark now.