The discovery that he hadn't quite thought it through occurred to Jared too late to do anything about it.
Being a dog's fine when he can run and play, but having a dog's life while chained in the yard proved almost intolerably boring. As the sun set, lights came on inside the house. He could hear low, muffled sounds of conversation between the brothers. He wondered what Shaggy, in his body, had to say to Kevin. Later, the sound of the television drowned out sporadic snippets of conversation. He had been forgotten by his former dog and his kid brother. He lowered his furry face onto the dirt in front of the doghouse and huffed a breath that stirred up some dust. His huge, shaggy body shook when he sneezed.
When it became apparent that both the "new" him and Kevin wouldn't be returning to the yard, Shaggy tried to get some sleep. Despite his fur, the autumn night carried a bit of a chill. He managed to drift to sleep and didn't awake until the next morning when the slamming of a car door startled him.
He tried to roll over in bed, but he succeeded only in bashing the side of his head against the wall of the doghouse. With his painful yelp, everything rushed back into focus. He had traded with Shaggy, who was now in his room, in his warm cozy bed, living his life.
The noise that had woke him grew louder, and he turned to see his dad's Lexus parked under the car port. Mom, clutching a small tote bag, stood on the walkway while Dad retrieved their biggest case of luggage from the trunk. Before his parents reached the house, the back door flew open. Kevin stepped onto the lanai and welcomed his parents.
His mother opened her arms and gave her youngest son a hug. "Where's your brother?"
"Still sleeping," Kevin answered.
Jared, feeling excited, gave a short series of barks. Mom glanced across the yard. "Look, Shaggy's awake, too," she said. "Did you boys take good care of him?"
"Yes, mom," Kevin said.
"Good," she said. "We brought home a surprise for Shaggy."
Jared listened. A surprise? He wondered what it was, but before he got a clue his family disappeared inside the house.
Mom inspected the kitchen and smiled. "The house looks like it survived," she remarked.
Dad excused himself to carry the large suitcase to their room. Mom conveyed his grandparents best wishes to her youngest son. "They can't wait to see you at Christmas," she added.
Dad returned carrying a white box. "What's that?" Kevin asked.
Dad put the box on the table and opened it. Kevin saw an expensive-looking leather dog collar with a silver tag inscribed with Shaggy's name.
"We found it at a roadside stand," Mom said. "Since Shaggy's old collar's looking a bit frayed, we bought it. It was hand-crafted by Native Americans. What was the name of that tribe, dear?"
Dad pondered a moment. "The Wepwawets, I believe."
"That sounds right," Mom said.
"Shaggy will love it," Kevin predicted.
"Let's go give it to him," Dad invited and lifted the collar out of the box. Kevin followed him as he stepped out the back door.
Jared's hindquarters wagged as he saw Kevin and Dad walked toward him. He longed to get a free moment when he could let Kevin in on the secret.
"We've got something for you, boy," Dad said, reaching for the old collar around Shaggy's neck.
Jared's nose had detected the smell of new leather, but that was pushed aside by the more attractive scent of a peanut-butter dog biscuit he could smell in Kevin's pocket. So, distracted, he didn't even realize that his father was removing his collar until it was too late. In a quick motion, his dad fastened the new collar around the sheepdog's neck.
"Dad!" Jared barked. "What are you doing?"
"Like it, boy?" Dad stepped back and admired the hand-crafted leather collar, which looked a better fit than the old one.
Jared wanted to protest, but at that moment Kevin produced the treat. "Brought you something," Kevin said and held the biscuit in his hand.
Jared sniffed it, looked up, and then snatched the biscuit out of his brother's hand. As he crunched on the treat, Mom called from the back door to announce she would make a quick breakfast for everyone. Kevin raced back to the kitchen, but Dad walked to the space between the house and the car port where the family's heavy-duty trash can stood. He tossed the old collar and its cheap metal tag on top of the rest of the garbage. As he closed the lid, he heard the sound of the city's trash collection truck a few houses down the block.
"That's right," he said to himself. "Monday's trash pickup." He grabbed the handle on the plastic trash can and rolled the container to the curb. Glancing up the street, he saw that the truck had pulled to a stop at the Thomason residence. As he passed Shaggy on his way through the car port toward the back door, Dad smiled when he saw the sheepdog munching on the biscuit.
"That does doesn't have a care in the world," he remarked.