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Fergie and I bolted into the woods as fast as we could. Even as a dog, Fergie ran faster than I did.

We hid among the trees and watched my parents and the fake Cooper and Fergie toss the Frisbee around in the backyard.

The guys from the pound never showed up. But things still looked pretty bad. My parents thought we were stray dogs. And I couldn't tell them who I was.

All I could do was bark.

Hey. Wait a minute. Maybe I could do more than bark.

"Fergie, I have another idea!" I said, wagging my tail. "Follow me!"

Fergie and I sneaked around the side of the house and stepped through the wall into the living room. I sniffed around, searching for a pen and some paper.

"I'll write them a note," I explained to Fergie. "Mom will definitely recognize my handwriting."

I found a pen lying on the coffee table, next to some notepaper.

I tried to lift the pen.

It slipped out from under my paw. I couldn't wrap my paw around it.

Fergie tried to help me. She nosed the pen in my direction, but I still couldn't pick it up.

Impossible. Dogs can't hold pens.

I felt so disappointed. I pushed the pen away, then ripped the paper to shreds. That's when my dad burst in.

"Hey! I thought I told you two dogs to beat it!" my father yelled.

My mother and the two phonies came running into the room.

I started barking, trying to communicate with Dad. But that seemed to annoy him even more.

"Stand up on your hind legs!" I instructed Fergie. "Maybe he'll think we're trying to tell him something!"

I hopped up, trying to balance on my back legs. But I wasn't very good at it. I mean, give me a break. I'd only been a dog for a few hours.

I toppled over onto my stomach.

I must have looked pretty stupid, because everyone started laughing. "Weird dogs," the Cooper imposter said.

Fergie and I hopped up again and again. But nobody understood what we were doing. And after a while, they grew bored with our little act. Dad picked up the broom again.

I probably could have yanked that stupid broom right out of his hands and pinned him to the ground. But what would that prove?

Dad chased Fergie and me out the back door and into the woods.

"You're right," I told her when we were safely hidden by the trees. "We're going to be dogs for the rest of our lives. And not even real dogs. Ghost dogs."

"Don't worry, Cooper," Fergie replied, reading my mind. "We'll convince them. There's got to be a way to show them who we are."

I sighed, then rolled on to my back.

If only Gary and Todd were here. They'd know what to do.

I rolled back again. And, suddenly, I felt hot. Burning hot. I sprang up on all fours.

"What is it?" Fergie cried out. "What's wrong?"

I shook violently from head to tail. Out of control. I couldn't stop shaking. Something had taken over my body.

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