In his hasty flight, Jared's main concern and driving motivation was to simply put as much distance as he could between himself and his parents who, unaware of their son's change of species, had arranged for a neutering appointment with their family's veterinarian. When everything else failed, Jared took the only option he saw available for avoiding the looming appointment.
While trotting on the sidewalk along Leland Avenue, he wondered where he could hide out. The woods at the park offered plenty of cover. Perhaps he could scrounge a living from raiding trash cans in the park and begging for handouts from family picnics. While not a terribly appealing way to make his way, at least he got to keep his canine body (the only one he had at present) intact.
He had started across the street to reach the park. He had looked both ways before stepping into the street and had nearly made it across when he felt a terrific wallop just as he had almost reached the other side of the street.
He didn't remember much else, and what he did recall came to him in disjointed images of people gathered round him, staring down at him. He tried to mutter something, which might have come out as a low growl, but then everything just went black.
When he awoke next he stared at the world from behind a grill of metal bars. He opened his eyes, didn't recognize his surroundings, and sank back into sleep to escape the dull aches that came with waking.
The man visited the room between other patients to check on his patient's status. On his last visit, the sheepdog had been sleeping soundly, which wasn't that surprising considering the pain-killers he had administered the unfortunate animal. Or, depending on the way one looked at the situation, the dog could consider himself extremely lucky. Witnesses said that the car that ran the stop sign had tossed the sheepdog almost 10 feet. The veterinarian considered the sheepdog fortunate not to have broken any bones. He had suffered some bad bruising and perhaps a concussion, which is why the vet kept checking back on a regular basis.
He put his hands between the bars of the holding cage, eased his hand onto the dog's head and patted gently. The dog heard him because it opened its eyes and stared at his hand apprehensively. He moved slowly to not alarm the battered canine. When he began patting the dog, he saw the distrust vanish from the dog's eyes.
"You're lucky, fellow," the vet said gently.
The dog listened. The words held no meaning, but the tone of the spoken words conveyed a gentle trustworthiness that the dog accepted almost implicitly.
"It's too bad you came to us with no collar or tags," the vet said. "I don't even know your name."
The dog licked the man's hand. "Yeah, I bet you're sore as hell, huh?"
The dog listened to the words, but mostly to confirm its first impressions. The man sounded good, gentle, and accepting.
"Lucky I was here at the shelter to do some volunteer work," he said.
The dog licked the man's hand again, a simple display of confidence and acceptance on the animal's part.
The vet's treatment had focused on physical injuries and offered no clue to the fact that Jared had lost his memories, no longer remembering his name, loved ones or where he came from, let alone the essential fact that he was supposed to be a seventeen-year-old high school student.
The vet decided more sleep would work wonders, so he took out a needle and injected more drugs into the sheepdog that should knock him out until the following day. If his own practice wasn't too busy, he would come back and check on him again. The dog had shut its eyes and slipped into sleep before the vet even withdrew his hand from the cage.
On his way to his car, the vet encountered the shelter director.
"How's your patient?"
"Doing fine," the vet said. "I gave him another injection of pain medication that should make him sleep for the night. I will try to check back tomorrow."
The director shrugged. "Your heart's in the right place, but you're wasting your time and resources," said the man, who had become inured to certain harsh realities. "It's well nigh impossible to adopt out these big dogs."
"That may be the case, but I didn't want to see an animal in pain," the vet replied.
The director shrugged. "I'll just have to call you in a week to come put him down."
"We'll see, won't we?"