Jared found himself enjoying his new canine perspective on the world. A sniff with his sensitive snout delivered a wealth of information to his brain.
He sniffed everything, amazed at the information he could glean from his souped-up sense of smell. So caught up in this new experience, he almost bumped into a rear tire on the beat-up old pick-up truck parked along the side of the road. After a sniff of the tire, Jared surprised himself by lifting a leg and taking a quick pee on the tire.
"Why'd I do that?" Jared wondered to himself. But, rather than pursue an answer, he noticed a path leading away from the road. The winding passage traced a trail through dense vegetation and heavy brush. Curious, he followed the path, one paw at a time.
After a short stroll, the sheepdog emerged along a riverbank and saw two redneck guys in jeans, sleeveless T-shirts and baseball caps. They had fishing poles and tackle. One stepped to a styrofoam ice chest and pulled out a gleaming can of beer. Jared noticed the crushed empty cans strewn on the ground.
"Ain't nothing biting today," the man with the new can of beer said.
His companion spit on the ground. "Guess not." He turned and saw the sheepdog that had emerged from the short path through the woods. "What do we got here?" The man turned green eyes on Jared.
Both men looked in their late twenties or early thirties. "C'mere, boy," the green-eyed guy said.
Jared felt his rear wag, expressing a hopeful smile, as he obeyed the summons.
"He's one of those fancy sheepdogs," the other guy said.
"I can see that, Jed," the green-eyed man said, holding out his hand in front of the sheepdog.
Jared instinctively smelled the hand. The man smiled. "That's right, boy," he said, and petted the dog's head.
"Look friendly enough," Jed said.
"Hand me that rope," the green-eyed guy said. "I think we just found a replacement for ol' Duke."
One hand still petting Jared's head, the man threaded the long piece of rope through Jared's collar. "Grab the chest," the man told his buddy.
"That's a pretty big dog, Cal," Jed said.
"Just get the stuff," Cal said. He tugged on the makeshift rope leash. "C'mon, boy."
Jared felt the tug on the rope and felt compelled to follow. On the path back toward the road, he tried to think of something to get away from the two rednecks.
Once they reached the truck, Cal lowered the tailgate and patted the rusty metal platform. "Jump up, boy."
Before he could bark a protest, Shaggy's canine mind took charge and cooperated by making a surprisingly powerful leap into the bed of the truck. Cal followed by raising the tailgate back into position. By then, Jed emerged from the woods, struggling with the ice chest, which he deposited in the bed of the truck with the sheepdog.
"Let's head home," Cal said, opening the door on the driver's side of the truck and sliding behind the wheel.
"Wait!" Jared barked, finally finding his voice. "You can't do this!"