He'd be right. Different rules apply to dogs, especially Baker. Still, Childermass looks unconvinced and trying hard not tell Lambert to stop talking. It's alarming to hear that voice mirrored back at him, even if that will wear off quickly enough.

"You demand that now but you'll regret it when he tackles you," is the only warning Lambert gets before he closes his hand -- a small pocket of shadow and an idea is all he needs to rummage around these days -- and produce the Pokeball, sized small until he hits the button. It expands and pops open. There's that telltale flash of light and, just as expected, Lambert is about to find a mass of orange and cream fur with a wildly wagging tail and way too much drool for anyone's own good leaping at him.

He does look like Childermass, after all. Leap first, smell later.