Locked into a cage in the back of a truck, Jared howled until the man who had captured him yelled menacingly for him to "knock it off, you crummy mutt!"
Jared felt his defiance deflate at the man's harsh words and literally tucked his tail between his legs in the cramped cage. He sulked and whimpered a bit, but he didn't let himself get too panicked. Kevin would rescue him, he thought, deciding not to put too much thought into how a elementary student would accomplish such a feat without help.
"You've got to come through for me, buddy," Jared thought. As of right now, he had no way to impress his true identity on anyone. Only his kid brother knew the truth. For the rest of the world, Jared made an extremely convincing sheepdog.
On the short drive to the pound, Jared detected other canines, and a few felines, contained in cages in the back of the truck. Some cold comfort, he figured, that he wasn't alone in his predicament.
Jared had volunteered — well, a class at school had visited the pound and played with some of the puppies — at the facility. He remembered from that experience that the staff had taken great pride in managing a "no-kill" facility. It was a relief that he wasn't under the gun, so to speak, with a countdown looming over his head.
So, he felt a little less confident when the truck arrived at the pound and Mr. Personality opened the back door of the truck, only for another person in uniform to deliver some unsettling news. "The boss said to tell you to haul this lot to Palmersville. We're full up."
"Palmersville!" The man complained. "That's fifty miles away."
"That the closest facility that has room and has agreed to take them," the employee retorted with a dismissive look at Jared in his confining cage.
"They're not a no-kill, are they?" Mr. Personality asked.
"No, but that's their problem," said the other employee.
A concerned Jared noticed that the staff appeared a lot less friendly and compassionate than they had during the class field trip.
Mr. Personality cleared his throat and spit on the pavement. "You heard her," he said. "We're hitting the road."
Before Jared even thought of objecting, the door slammed and the truck was soon on the move again. At least the long trip gave him time to think. He realized he still had his human intelligence. He would think of a way out of this mess, and he still had Kevin. He could count on his kid brother.
Of course, his kid brother had helped land him in canine form in the first place.
He would have thought of an escape plan. He fully intended to do so, but the low rumble of the engine soon put the stressed and exhausted sheepdog into a deep sleep.