Quick! You are a young woman with the body of a world-class gymnast, and the head of a border collie. You were born this way. So: what do you do? What do you make of yourself? Do you sit in the corner and whine?
Well, yes. Of course you do. The things people say! The terrible rumors about your mother, the Beast Mistress! It’s just not true. It’s just not fair. You whine and you whine and you whine.
But after that, what? You pick yourself up, is what. You follow in your mother’s footsteps. You defend her reputation, and yours. You go fight crime!
It helps, of course, that border collies are able to see all of history at once, anything that has ever happened, anywhere that they decide to point their eyeballs. Which is why their eyeballs — and yours — so often, frankly, roll. But it’s a power, at least, even if it is the kind of power that you have to learn to not use, to consciously block, in order to take one single solid step on the present-day sidewalk, which is also an ocean, and a canyon, and a crowded wagon trail.
So what if your mother is embarrassed by you, refuses to let you go on patrol with her? So what if you’ve never managed to be in the near proximity of, much less fight, even one single crime? So what if the other kids in Crimebuster High School keep telling you to “Sit,” and “Heel,” and “Stay?” And you do?