During the ride to Brownsburg, Jared had one advantage over the other dogs. He was able to hear snippets of conversation from the two shelter employees. His discovery that he and the other dogs had been removed from the overcrowded facility to ship out to a small-town shelter with far fewer occupants didn't exactly inspire him with optimism. The men didn't expect any of the dogs they had chosen to find permanent homes, but they agreed it made their jobs easier to rid themselves of some of the dogs.
"But I was going home," Jared whimpered as the setback preyed on his mind.
He tried to cheer himself with the thought that, as soon as his father learned of the mix-up, he would set things right.
At some point, the constant drone of the van's engine along the highway put Jared to sleep.
He suffered a rude awakening a short time later, opening his eyes to discover that he was being strapped down to a stainless steel table by a strange man as another man holding a large needle approached.
"What are you doing?" Jared barked.
He saw one of the men who had transported him here. "Ain't that just the luck," the man said. "We bring them here, and you're filled up, too."
"Yea," answered the man holding the deadly needle. "But no reason to prolong this. We can just put them down and save you the trouble of hauling them back."
"Put down?" Jared barked. "No! Stop!"
When he heard himself, still only able to bark despite his urgent need for words, Jared panicked and struggled in the restraints.