"Okay, Chad, I dunno why you're a dog now, but I'll take care of you," Todd said kneeling down and looking his new labrador retriever in the eye. He looked around. He could hear voices in the distance, and he didn't want to have to try to explain Chad. He grabbed the belt out of Chad's locker, and fished his wallet out of his jeans. He put the can of Flea Spray in Chad's locker, and closed it, but he locked it with his own padlock. He grabbed his gear and headed toward the nearby Janitor's Closet. It had been open when he went by, and it was still ajar. He took Chad inside, and used the belt to leash Chad to a water pipe. Then he found an old bowl and filled it with water for Chad to drink.
The janitor came. He glared at Todd, and said, "You know you ain't supposed to have a dog in the school."
"I know, Mr. Brooks, Chad must've gotten out of my yard, and found me at school. Would it be okay, if he stayed here until, after I'm done?" he rummaged in Chad's wallet and pulled out a $10 bill, "I can pay you?" he offered.
"No, I understand, keep your money, but get your dog out of here by 5 PM."
"Thanks, Mr. Brooks," Todd said. He glanced at the wallet. Chad's driver's license should have been in the plastic window, instead there was a brass tag. Todd slipped the tag out, and grinned, " CHAD, Black Lab, OWNER: TODD MANN," and the rest contained the pertinent facts about the dog, and Todd's phone number. Carefully, Todd secured the tag to the belt collar/leash. He'd had to get a better collar soon. He remarked that Chad was one year and five months old, and guessed that must be equivalent to 18 in dog years.