A book nerd gets reincarnated as a dog and immediately discovers his new owner is wielding scissors like they're stage props in a slapstick routine. The premise is so aggressively stupid that it stops trying to justify itself, which frees the show to just pile absurdity on top of absurdity without apologizing. If you laugh at the sheer commitment to this bizarre setup, you're the audience this was built for; if you expect coherence or restraint, you'll hate it within three minutes.
A bibliophile obsessed with his favorite author gets hit by a truck and wakes up as a dog. His new owner turns out to be the very writer he idolized, except she's nothing like the brilliant prose she produces. She's chaotic, temperamental, and has an unsettling habit of wielding scissors while carelessly tormenting her newfound pet. Trapped in a four-legged body that can't turn pages or communicate his identity, Harumi has to navigate life with a woman who treats him as a toy, a stress relief outlet, and occasionally a target for her manic energy. She's brilliant on the page and unhinged in person. She's his dream and his nightmare wrapped into one exhausting package. Comedy erupts from the collision between Harumi's intellectual desperation and his owner's chaotic whimsy. He can understand everything she says and does, but she has no idea the dog watching her with visible irritation is actually her most devoted fan. Every episode becomes a test of whether he can survive her scissors, her mood swings, and the crushing irony of finally meeting his idol only to want nothing more than escape.