It took a matter of several weeks, but the gradual lessening of the volume of testosterone made for a less horny and frustrated Jared. Not that he noticed all that much.
Memories of human life had continued to fade, perhaps assisted by the dulled focus on his primal urges that accompanied his procedure. So, wearing a truly dorky Santa cap for the Webster family Christmas portrait didn't meet with so much as a whimper of protest. Mr. Webster, at his wife's urging, even hired a professional photographer who came to the house and arranged the session with Mr. and Mrs. Webster, their good-looking All-American sons, and the family's pet sheepdog.
"Get the fur out of Shaggy's eyes," Kevin, too far to reach over, directed as they posed for the photograph.
The impostor, who had settled with remarkable ease into his new two-legged life, reached over and brushed the offending fringe away from Jared's rather dull and vacant eyes. The presence of the pretender's hand even met with a slavish lick of the sheepdog's tongue. The urge to please his human masters reigned supreme in almost every action undertaken by the furry sheepdog.
"I will admit that Shaggy's behaving remarkably well," Mrs. Webster confessed.
Her husband smiled. "Well, I hate to say it, but you were right again, dear," he told her. "Having Shaggy fixed seems to have curbed all of his problem areas."
The photographer finished his work. Although Jared never actually saw the dozens of cards his mother had fashioned from the photo, his part in the photo session was the hit of the holiday season. Everyone who received the Webster Christmas greeting that season remarked on the cheerful inclusion of the Santa hat-wearing sheepdog surrounded by his loving humans.
The former teenager might have fretted over that recognition, but by the time Christmas rolled around, his main thoughts were devoted to his daily walks, squirrels, and securing his beloved bacon treats. Jared eventually lost so much of his cognitive processes that Wepwawet ceased to make his clandestine visits when he realized that there was no fun to be had by gloating when the victim was too dumb to recognize the intended slight.
Jared wasn't forgotten on Christmas Day. His mother even allowed him in the house as the family opened presents because, as Kevin pointed out, a couple of the gifts beneath the tree belonged to Shaggy. A new rawhide bone for his chewing pleasure and a couple of packages of bacon-flavored treats signaled Jared's inclusion in the holiday.
Of course, the impostor got a new car as a reward for his achievements in academics and baseball.
"You deserve it," his father said. "In these last few months, it's like you've become a completely different person."
The impostor smiled, patted Shaggy's head, and slipped the sheepdog a bacon treat.
A few days later, while being escorted past the shiny new red sports car for his daily walk, Jared did lift a leg and piss on one of the tires.
The impostor scolded him and narrowed his eyes. "Bad dog," he said.
If it had been an act of defiance, nothing registered in the dog's placid eyes. The impostor chalked it up to dogs being dogs and led Shaggy onto the sidewalk for his walk.