The shelter employee slapped the sides of the cage when the sheepdog proved reluctant to leave it.
The sheepdog had smelled of the man's heavy gloves, which seemed to carry the scents of dozen of other dogs on them, and accurately sensed impatience and general dissatisfaction. He cowered in the cage until the man's violent rattling of the cage sent the sheepdog bursting out like a bat escaping hell at high velocity.
Something about the dog's panicked exit amused the man, who laughed and became instantly a bit more mellow. "Relax," he said, still chuckling at the way the big dog had been so easily spooked. "We're just introducing you to some new friends."
He meant, as it transpired, that the sheepdog was to enter a communal holding pen with the facility's other male dogs, which for the moment tallied thirty-seven individuals of various breeds, shapes, sizes, and temperaments.
For the carefree sheepdog, it meant a lengthy period of mutual butt sniffing. Some of the more bold dogs, those that felt more secure in the concrete and chicken wire holding pen, came over and got the process started. The sheepdog relaxed, not feeling challenged by his fellow occupants simply because most of them were smaller dogs.
He felt thirsty, so he drank from one of the many water dishes available inside the pen. As he drank, a couple of other dogs sidled over to him and commenced more butt sniffing to learn more about the newcomer. When finished with his drink, the sheepdog returned the favor and sniffed their butts, too. The smaller of the two, a mixed breed hound and shepherd, went tense but the sheepdog barely took notice and the dog relaxed.
The dog stood next to a section of the fence and stared. He wasn't on a schedule, had no place to be, and took each moment as it came with no anxiety to cause nervous whimpers. The accident had wiped the slate clean. For all the shaggy English sheepdog knew, life in the pen was the only life it had ever known.
The man with the gloves returned. "Here you go," he said directly to the sheepdog and slipped a biscuit through the wire mesh. "It's going to be a while before feeding time, so thought you might appreciate that."
As the dog accepted the offering, a mental image of a younger human handing him a similar treat skirted into view and vanished a second later.
Unaffected by the brief flash, the sheepdog munched contently on the treat molded into the shape of a bone. Still gnawing at the biscuit, he turned a few tight circles and settled on the concrete floor. With nothing more interesting to divert him, a nap presented itself as the best use of time.