"Seabourne, the boy and dog are contained!" said the man in the decon suit into his walkie-talkie. He'd only had to use two darts on the three, thanks to a lucky shot. Seabourne would be pissed in the morning, he'd been shot in the dick and apparently had passed enough through to dog-boy when he came, since both had passed out simultaneously. The man-dog had been darted when it had charged Curtis. The crew arrived to secure the tranq'ed subjects and load them into animal carriers.
After they were secured, Rickie Parker, the youngest of the crew slipped in for a closer look at the sleeping trio. He looked at the pointed furry ear growing out of Seabourne's head, and slipped off a glove, he had to feel it.
Seabourne sniffed in his sleep, he smelled a sweaty hand. He cracked an eyelid a hair, and saw the hand reaching tentatively through the small passthru door of his cage--CAGE! He surpressed the urge to open his eyes wide, until the hand was close enough. Then as it touched his ear, he turned and sunk his teeth in to it.
Rick shoved his free hand into his mouth to keep from screaming. He knew if the others found out he'd been bitten, he'd end up like Seabourne.
Outside the van, he could hear Curtis on the walkie-talkie to the command post.
"Yes, right, you want us to stop by the pound and pick up a few strays. Extreme body types? Oh, sheepdog, chihuahua, great dane,dachshund, terrier, greyhound, yeah, okay. We'll keep em separate until we get back."
It took all Rick's effort to get his bleeding hand back into his glove. Then resisting the growing urge to have sex, he stepped out of the van. He was in a cold sweat, fortunately with his suit on, no one could tell.