Days passed as the mildness of autumn turned to the biting chill of creeping winter.
Poor Jared remained chained next to the utility shed out back of his own high school. Ralph proved dutiful if unvarying in his care of his new guard dog. He arrived for work each morning around 7 a.m. and one of his first tasks was to present the sheepdog with a bowl of dry kibble. In the evening, just before he locked up the shed, he presented Jared with another bowl of the dry nuggets. The mop bucket had been replaced by a stainless steel bucket that Ralph filled with fresh water every day.
Jared, after he tired of trying to slip out of the makeshift collar or gnaw through the lead, faced seemingly endless days of monotony. He coped by letting the sheepdog brain have some free rein. Time didn't torment him when he simply submerged himself beneath Shaggy's consciousness.
Today, Jared let his interest get diverted when Ralph varied his routine. With an eye to a leaden sky, Ralph announced the prospect of snow. "Figured you'd need a warm place, boy," he said and unveiled an old barrel re-purposed into a doghouse complete with an old blanket spread over the curved floor. Ralph had positioned the shelter against the wall of the shed. A length of chain had long ago replaced the rope, and Ralph now made sure the chain offered enough freedom for the sheepdog to climb into the barrel for a good night's rest. Satisfied, he fetched the bowl of kibble and made sure to top off the water bucket.
After waiting patiently for the dog to finish its food, Ralph snapped a leash to the sheepdog's collar and led him to a grassy spot only a few yards from the shed to complete his morning business. Long past his early mortification at having to go in front of a stranger, Jared tried to get it over with quickly. He had to step around his own little landmines as Ralph was hardly fastidious about cleaning up afterward. Then, after he had done what was expected of him, he had to endure a dispiriting "good boy" from Ralph, who re-attached his collar to the bicycle rack.
After he heard Ralph get into his truck and leave, Jared sprawled on the ground and stared at the side of the stainless steel bucket. He studied his canine reflection in the metal surface. His vision cast everything in monotones, so he had no appreciation of the blue merle pattern of gray and white in his shaggy coat, nor the fact that he examined his image with one blue eye and one brown eye. A big black nose dominated his face, which featured raggedy mutton chops of shaggy fur on either side of his face, as well as fur that cascaded over his eyes and forced him to keep shaking his head to keep it out of his eyes. A pink tongue dangled from his open jaws. This was how he looked now to everyone around him.
More and more, in his mind's eye, he began to see this reflection as his true self, as well, and not the mental picture of a 17-year-old human that it took so much mental energy to generate.
"I need to get out of here," Jared decided. He needed to find a way to get home, to his family, and possibly help in getting back his former body.
Even as he plotted escape, the first snowflakes of winter began to fall.