With Santa down for the count, Fred activated the portal on the company phone.
"Desperate times," he said and activated the impressment mechanism.
In no time, one junkyard sheepdog vanished, only to emerge near a sled and eight rowdy reindeer.
From the phone, Fred spoke to the bewildered sheepdog. "Reindeer need a guiding hand," he explained. "With Santa knocked from the running, no doubt to some action associated with you..." Giving the sheepdog a withering look that produced some whimpering from Jared, Fred continued. "But with your instincts for herding sheep and such, you can keep these quadrupeds in line."
Jared didn't like the sound of that. "I just want to be home in my own body."
"Do a good job and we'll see what we can do," Fred said, careful to offer nothing in writing.
Jared gruffly barked.
"Oh, one last thing that might be useful over Ontario and Siberia..."
Suddenly, the nose at the end of Jared's snout began to glow. "Rudolph went free agent last year," Fred explained.
So, Jared surveyed the ramshackle team of reindeer, barking, calling them by name. "Now, Dasher! Now, Dancer! Now, Prancer and Vixen! On, Comet! On, Cupid! On, Donner and Blitzen! To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall, now, dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"
Anyone else would have heard, roughly, "Bark! Bark! Woof! Woof!" Fortunately, reindeer have developed rudimentary telepathic skills over the eons.
With Jared curled in the sled, which was full of toys, and one Old English Sheepdog, too, they were off with many stops to make before they could rest.