Precious hours ticked down and Jared felt like he knew what condemned prisoners must feel. He had tried writing a message in the dirt with a stick. He had tried reasoning with his former dog now posing as an impostor among his family. He would have begged that sleazeball Wepwawet if it would have helped.
He came up with the plan that he needed to buy himself some time and let the clock run out on the idea of his parents to have him neutered.
"I could run away," he thought, but when he tested that ability, the lead and collar worked in perfect unison to keep him chained in the back yard. Would he be trapped until they dragged him, kicking and screaming, for the emasculating appointment with Dr. Brinkley.
He almost wailed with frustration, but then got another idea. He could get the lead into his mouth. Could he chew through the cable or, perhaps, find something sharp to use to cut through it. Some immediate attempts to do so ended in more frustration. His teeth made it through the rubber coating without difficulty, but the metal wire beneath cut his mouth as he tried to chew it. The pain discouraged him, but he didn't give up.
Indeed, he got a new idea when he spied the rusty nail poking through one of the boards in the doghouse wall. A master carpenter his father was not, and some of the construction work on the doghouse had bene slipshod. It took nearly two hours of painstaking trial and error before he managed to stab the pointed tip of the nail into the cable. Some of the entwined smaller metal cords frayed, but the lead remained intact.
He almost gave up. "Shit! It's going to really happen."
The healthy dose of fear at the prospect of what Mom had termed the "procedure" renewed his stubborn resistance. He began to pull until he felt like he might choke to death. He kept pulling with the quick thought that choking might be preferable to what awaited him.
"I can't give up," he thought and pulled harder.
Suddenly, there was an audible "pop" and he almost turned head over heels before he sprawled face-down in the grass. He got up, shook himself off, and realized that the clasp on the collar had given way. His attempt to sever the lead had failed, but the collar had proven the unexpected weak point.
He stared at the shiny tag, which was really the amulet in another guise. He had an unexpected second avenue for escape. If he could find an item of his clothing, he could touch the clothing at the same time he touched the disguised amulet and resume his human form.
If he failed, however, it would mean that in 48 hours... hell, more like 42 hours now ... he would face the dreaded appointment with Dr. Brinkley.
He whimpered and whined as he paced, free to flee but uncertain what to do.