“So... Odin... Let’s assume that’s true for now,” I started with a fresh cup of coffee, “You made it so that Bento can talk.” He nodded his head.

  “Can I have a coffee? Whatever that is?” Asked Bento.

  I turned to look at him. Sitting on his chair. At the table. I shrugged. Talking. With me. And Odin. I shrugged.

  “No, but you can have a sip.” I went and got him a little bowl so I could pour a little coffee out of my mug.

  “Give it a second, it’s hot,” I warned.

  He didn’t listen. “OW! Why is it so hot? Blech, it’s gross too. That’s awful. I never want coffee.” He started sneezing and shaking his head, trying to clear the taste from his mouth. He went to his water bowl and drank from there before returning to the table.

  I shook my head ruefully and tried to regain my train of thought, turning back to Osc... Odin. “You said you wanted to recruit me for a tournament of sorts. What exactly is this tournament?”

  I watched as he took a sip thoughtfully. “What do you know about the Gods?”

  “As much as the next guy, I guess. I know your Norse. Most ancient cultures have a pantheon or two,” I said with a shrug.

  “Most ancient cultures do,” he said with a nod, “and that’s the rub of it. Ancient cultures. We Gods are shaped by belief and knowledge of mortals. Which means our nature, our very concepts change, based on how we are perceived by mortals. Which also means that if there isn’t enough knowledge of us, we will die. To combat this, we’ve been having a tournament of sorts for eons. Every hundred years, every God is allowed to choose a champion. A sponsorship if you will. Once chosen, every action of that champion is recorded in the name of their sponsor. Gods are only allowed a single champion per century. I have yet to choose mine for the 21st century. I’d like to sponsor you as my champion, Robert Parker.”

  I was floored. Numbly, I took another sip of coffee. “This is huge. Why me? Why not sponsor a superstar or influencer as your champion? I’m just a regular dude,” I asked.

  At that he gave me a grin and shrugged. “I’m Odin. I’m not really at risk of fading away immediately. But like many immortals, I get bored. Finding something that surprises me, or even better, something that seems like fun, is worth more than anything else. And I’ve got a good feeling about you, Robert. You seem like fun.”

  “Think about it. I don’t need an answer immediately. But people talk. People will know that I’ve got my eye on you. You may want to decide sooner rather than later.”

  With that said he made his way out of my apartment, and I locked the door behind him. I sat down on my couch afterwards and just stared at the wall for a while. I just sat there, processing the morning thus far. Gods were real. Which means there was probably a lot more truth to mythology than most people realize. And they had an ongoing war, tournament, competition? So that people would continue to remember them or think about them. Odin just offered to sponsor me as his champion. And now as proof of his claim I had a talking dog.

  Thinking of my now talking dog, I looked over my shoulder at Bento still sitting at the dining room table with his ears flattened. He looked terrified.

  “Hey bud, for someone who just learned they can talk, you’ve been awfully quiet over there. Everything ok?” I asked.

  “… I can hear a voice,” he whispered.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Oh boy.

  “A voice?” I queried.

  “A voice. It started when I had some of that awful coffee thing you were drinking. It was telling me how awful it was. Then it was telling me to freak out about a voice in my head. Then it keeps yelling to be quiet, but it won’t. Robert, what do I do? Who’s voice is that? Why do they keep speaking in my mind?”

  Oh great, now that my dog could talk, he was having an existential crisis hearing his own thoughts. I made my way to sit beside him at the table. He flinched when I made to pet him, but relaxed as I gently stroked the top of his head.

  “Bento, I think those are your own thoughts. Now that you can talk in English, I’ll bet you’re also thinking in English too. So that voice in your head is probably your own voice using words to describe your own thoughts to yourself. That’s called thinking.” I did my best to explain the act of thinking to a dog. This has been a weird morning.

  He turned to look at me. “You mean you always hear a voice in your head too?”

  “As long as I’m thinking, yeah I do.”

  “How do I stop thinking? I think so loud.”

  “I don’t think you can anymore. Sometimes, doing activities can help quiet the thoughts as you focus on something. But generally, once you can start thinking, I don’t think you can stop until you’re dead?” I ended with a question. I’d never really thought about how to stop thinking. I realized I was always thinking about something. The next time I need to go for a walk with Bento, what I’m going to cook for dinner later, when the next deadline is.

  I just realized, thinking is exhausting. How do you stop thinking?

  “I think, therefore I am,” I whispered finally.

  “What does that mean?” Bento asked.

  “I think it has to do with how humans defined themselves apart from most other animals. The ability to think, and to communicate those thoughts, are what make us a higher form of animal, I guess? But also, when you stop thinking for yourself is also when you die? I’ve never thought about it too deeply,” I explained.

  “So, I won’t stop thinking until I die now? I have to hear these thoughts for the rest of my life? How do you exist like this? This is awful. What is death like, it sounds peaceful?” he complained.

  That gave me pause. “I don’t know, I’m still alive? I’ve never died. Actually, we probably could have asked Odin about that.” I said, scratching my chin in thought.

  “Robert, you have to take his sponsorship so we can ask him about it. I need to know how to handle the voice in my head. It’s so loud!” he begged me.

  “I don’t think you want to die Bento. If you do, that means no more playing or eating or sleeping.”

  “What do you mean! Those are my favorite things! I don’t want to die if I can’t do those!” He exclaimed.

  “Well then why don’t we go for a walk now. Maybe it will help clear your head of those thoughts, or at least help you get used to them?”

  “YAY!” He dashed to the door.

  And just like that, I think I helped my dog get through his first existential crisis. Just as quick as he got excited for a walk, I noticed he lost it just as fast.

  “What now Bento?” I asked while putting on my shoes.

  “Do I still need to wear a leash for walks?” He asked. “It feels a little… I don’t know the word.”

  That was interesting. How did he get his vocabulary in the first place? Could my dog read now too? I also thought about the purpose of a leash with a dog.

  “I mean, a leash is so I can lead you around and prevent you from escaping or getting into trouble,” I thought aloud.

  “Ok, but we can talk now. Can’t we just talk about things? And do I always need your permission? Odin said we’re partners. Doesn’t that make us equal? So do I still need a leash?” He asked. “Being led around on a leash make me feel like I don’t have a choice.”

  I think my dog was beginning to ponder free will. Does a leash make him feel like he loses that? Actually, given his newfound ability to communicate, how does that change our relationship?

  “I think you’re right. It does remove some of your choice. But I think I need to be able to trust that you won’t be a danger to yourself or others. And you’ve just gained the ability to talk and think. How about this, I’m the adult here. You’ve just asked for permission to not use a leash. I’m ok with it. But you still have to ask me about other things you want to do before you do them. Once we’ve established what is safe and not safe then you can stop asking permission and start making your own judgements. Sound fair?”

  I watched as he tilted his head. I could see his ears twirl about, as if moving them helped him to listen to his own thoughts in his head. It was adorable.

  “Ok, I think that sounds fair,” he finally agreed. “Now hurry up, I can hear the voice… I think I need to pee.”

  I chuckled as I put on my shoes and led my talking Shiba out the door. He immediately bolted out as if he was trying to escape. Right, just because he could talk doesn’t mean he’s not a Shiba anymore.