After she finished her conversation with Jared's grandparents in Maine to let them know that she and Bill had made it home without any difficulties, Mom carried her phone back onto the lanai to enjoy the brisk fall morning. She walked back and forth, her heels clicking like tiny castanets on the tiles as she scanned her phone for saved numbers.
Her understandably concerned son, well disguised in his current canine form, listened intently when she punched in the numbers after finding the number for Dr. Brinkley's practice. Jared received the confirmation he dreaded when he heard Mom ask the receptionist for Dr. Brinkley's office.
Jared produced a flurry of barks to try to sabotage her call. "Mom! You can't do this! Please!"
His mother covered the phone with her hand and spoke sharply and clearly. "Shaggy! Be quiet! Bad dog!"
Jared, as he was beginning to discover was a commonplace response when a family member criticized him, slipped into subservient mode, spread out on his belly, and whimpered as he continued to listen to Mom make the fateful call.
"Yes, this is Mrs. Bill Webster," his mother told someone. Even with his exceptional hearing, Jared couldn't quite make out the other voice on the line. "I'm calling about our dog, Shaggy."
Jared whimpered louder, but remained cowed by the first scolding from his no-nonsense mother.
"Yes, my husband has agreed with me that we should have Shaggy fixed, so I am calling for an appointment. If at all possible, I'd appreciate Wednesday afternoon."
It was too much. Jared erupted with more barking. "Mom! It's me! Please, don't do this!"
"Excuse me," Mom said. "One second." She placed the phone on the patio table and turned to give Jared a withering gaze. "Shaggy, hush," she repeated. "Bad dog!"
She watched as her reprimand took effect and the dog returned to its persistent but less loud whimpers and whines. "I'm sorry about that," she said, and then laughed. "Yes, that was Shaggy. He's being very bad this morning."
Jared took exception to the description, considering what she was putting in motion.
"Wednesday at two," she repeated. "That sounds perfect. Thank you very much."
She listened to more of the conversation on the other end. "Oh, I didn't realize it would require an overnight stay. Well, I am sure my husband or I can pick Shaggy up on Thursday morning."
Jared hadn't thought it could get worse until that moment.
Mom ended the call with a "Thanks, see you then," and then walked over to Shaggy. "I don't know what's gotten into you, boy, but I hope this procedure will help calm you down."
Jared managed to keep his temper, but her choice of the word "procedure" was almost too much.
"Now, I have a string of errands, so I trust you'll be a good boy now," she said, becoming more sweetness and light as she looked down at him.
Jared didn't know what to do. Barking at her would just result in more reprimands. He remained on his belly as she left the yard. He exhaled hard enough to stir up some of the dirt and dust in front of the doghouse. A looming deadline now faced him. In roughly 48 hours, his dad meant to take him to the vet and have him neutered. He had to get through to someone, but Jared wasn't sure which family member represented his best option. He was even less sure how to try to go about communicating with anyone.
She walked back to the lanai, her heels clicking again as she entered the house, oblivious to the high anxiety she had now caused her son.