A short while later, Jared's parents returned to the lanai with cocktails prepared by his dad to celebrate their return home and unwind after spending several hours on the road.
As Jared's mother sipped her cocktail, she stared critically as the sheepdog scratched vigorously. "I do hope Shaggy's not gotten fleas again," she said.
"Dogs get fleas," Dad objected.
"Well, I could call the dog groomer and schedule him for another flea dip," she said.
Jared tried his best not to scratch, but it was the usual case. As soon as he tried to consciously avoid scratching, the itching got that much worse. But he didn't want to give his mother any additional reason to call the dog grooming facility. Jared didn't like the idea of strangers bathing or grooming him.
"He looks fine to me," Dad said again.
Mom had never been a supporter of adding a dog to the family, especially when she learned that Kevin's concept of a dog meant a huge, shaggy English sheepdog. "If you say so, dear," Mom replied, but Jared stared up at her from behind a thin veil of fur that fell over the front of his eyes and felt certain that Mom wasn't ready to let the issue drop.
He wanted to do something to get her to recognize him, deluding himself into thinking that if anyone could look beyond his physical appearance, surely a mother would be able to look into his eyes and recognize the soul of a first-born son.
Instead, whenever she glanced at Shaggy, she got a frown of distaste on her face. Everything about the dog set her nerves on edge. The dog was too big, too clumsy, too shaggy and, although her husband and sons often came to the sheepdog's defense, she didn't consider the sheepdog very intelligent. Even now, she seemed on high alert, anticipating the next scratch.
Finally, Jared could stand it no longer. "Mom!" He barked. "Mom, it's me! Jared!" He bounded across the yard, right up to the edge of the lanai.
The sudden outburst of barking was the last straw. "Oh, now what's wrong with him?" Mother asked in frustration. Her transformed son's barking offended her ears. "I'm going back inside where I can enjoy my drink in some peace."
Dad laughed but accompanied her to the door. "It's a bit chilly out this evening," he said as he opened the door for her.
Jared, crushed, watched them close the door on him. It was bad enough being a dog, without the constant rejection of his former family members.
In his frustration, he lifted a leg and scratched again at that shifting, irritating itch.
"A-ha!" Jared heard his mother's triumphant voice and looked up to see her gazing out the kitchen window. "I knew that dog has fleas! First thing tomorrow I am making an appointment with the groomer."