"How is this any of your business?" The impostor responded to Wepwawet's greeting.
"Impudent pup," Wepwawet said. "You've certainly acquired their unjustifiable arrogance."
"The amulet was unfair," the impostor explained. "I rectified that."
Wepwawet's form rocked with laughter. "Indeed?"
"Why should that," and the impostor grimaced and gestured toward Jared, who at that most inopportune moment dug at a flea buried in the fur of his right flank, "enjoy the human body and I suffer the shame of canine servitude?"
"I grant your point," Wepwawet said as he observed Jared's attention waver, diverted by the zig-zag flight of a butterfly traversing the lawn. "Do go on."
"I'm a much better human than he was or ever shall be," the impostor insisted. "Everyone says so."
Jared gave chase to the interloping butterfly, and Wepwawet produced a sad little "Tsk, tsk." He smiled and made plain his feelings. "This one even seems to be doing an adequate impression of a dog."
Jared, having vanquished the butterfly, returned and settled on his butt and gazed up at the two of them. Dimly, he knew the discussion involved him and was crucial for his future. But he also felt he deserved a reward for guarding the home from the fierce butterfly and sniffed for a bacon treat.
"I'm serious," the impostor related. "His teachers all tell me they are surprised by my performance. He apparently didn't take his duties at the school very seriously."
"I am sure you're correct," Wepwawet said to show interest.
"Even the coach of that ridiculous competition," the impostor struggled for a moment. "The one with the large stick and the ball..."
"Baseball?" Wepwawet offered helpfully.
"Yes, the baseball game," he said. "The coach said he felt my game has improved. He said he had been worried I had been slacking of late."
"I could see it in his eyes the first time we met," Wepwawet said. "Lazy! I tell you, I have observed these humans for eons and they are a constant source of amusement with their self-importance."
The word "baseball" had triggered something in Jared's cloudy thoughts. He heard the strike of the ball hitting the bat, the plush thump of a ball caught in a glove. He recalled his dad cheering him in the bleachers at one of his recent games. They wanted to take it away from him!
He growled and advanced toward the impostor and Wepwawet.
"Look who is finally awake," the deity said.
"Put back!" Jared barked. He looked at the impostor with hate in his eyes. "Bad boy!"
"Would you stop barking at me and just say what you want?" Wepwawet snapped impatiently.
Jared prepared to bark again, but this time words came out of his mouth. They hurt, twisting his jaws and tongue as they did, but he communicated his despair. "I want my life back," he said. "I don't want to be a dog."
"Well, why didn't you say so in the first place?" Wepwawet replied.
"I'm not going back," the impostor declared.
Wepwawet shrugged. "I don't think he wants to make the exchange again."
"But he's a dog," Jared tried not to scream. "I'm the human."
"What does that have to do with it?" Wepwawet pounced.
Jared, stunned by the question, shook his head, thinking the great clots of shaggy fur might have blocked his hearing. "A dog can't make that sort of decision," he insisted.
"That the human-centric view, I suppose."
"I'm more capable than you of making such a decision," the impostor said. "He has been wasting his life for seventeen years! Let me at least recognize the potential there is in him."
Wepwawet reached down and patted the sheepdog's shaggy head. "My friend," he began. "May I call you that? Because I believe we have built a rapport."
Jared listened, trying to track the twists and turns in the discussion. "Why do you want that old life back? Think of the benefits of this one."
Jared sputtered. "Benefits! There are no benefits!"
"On the contrary, my friend. Two square meals a day, in-between-meal bacon treats, and a fine home," Wepwawet said with a wave toward the doghouse.
Jared felt himself drool at the mention of bacon treats. He shook his head to prevent such distractions from overwhelming him, sending dog saliva flying in the process.
Wepwawet made a show of brushing himself free of the dog spittle. "What are you really missing? Opposable thumbs? Trust me. They're overrated," he concluded. "Now, you have you family at your beck and call."
"They have to clean up after me every time I..." Jared stopped short and knew his face would have shown a bright blush if not for the fact it remained concealed by an abundance of shaggy fur.
Wepwawet made a disgusted face. "Yes, well, there is that," he said.
"He would just go back to being a selfish, lazy human," the impostor claimed.
"Well, in any case, I am needed elsewhere," Wepwawet announced abruptly.
Jared protested, but found that he had lost his voice again, producing only a couple of irritated barks.
"You're not making us exchange bodies?" The impostor asked.
"There's no rush," the being answered. "Let me think on it."
Jared felt himself slipping, with Shaggy's canine instincts clawing themselves back into dominance in that uneasy inner partnership.
"No fair!" He barked. "Bad Jared win!"
"All right," Wepwawet said, "You win."
Jared and the impostor both froze.
"I'll return in two days," it promised. "We'll conduct a proper hearing and, at the conclusion, I'll render my verdict."
Before either of them could object, Wepwawet vanished through a tiny stitch in the universe, translating itself with only a flurry of misty particles that settled on the grass of the lawn.
The impostor glared at Jared, who produced a low growl in response even as he worried about whether he could hang on for two more days.