The sheepdog heard the door open and saw someone step out.
The dog recognized one of the household masters. The tall boy.
"Jared, on your way home from school, can you pick up a carton of milk?"
A tall, attractive youth with good skin and hair held the door open. "Yes, mother," the boy answered. "I'll be glad to."
He closed the door and instead of walking to his car, he glanced across the yard at the sheepdog.
The sheepdog saw he had master's attention. He wagged his rear, strained against the lead, and barked twice.
The teenager with the all-American good looks crossed the yard. "Shaggy, sit."
The dog, with only some impatient whimpering, complied.
"Good dog."
The dog felt the human's hand pat its head.
"You have a good day in your new life," Jared told the dog, but getting no intelligent response as he studied the big, dark sheepdog eyes.
The master said something, but none of the words were recognizable. He kept petting his dog.
"And no more sticks, you silly boy."
The dog heard "stick" and "boy."
Stick! He wanted a stick to... he wanted a stick so master could throw it and he would chase it, catch it, and bring it back.
His rear wagged like mad. "Stick! Stick! Stick!"
"Not now, Shaggy," the high school athlete said as he got used to the sound of his own voice. "Later, when I get home."
He heard the master say his name, but none of the other words were anything other than sounds.
His former master seemed pretty far gone, but he needed to finish the job. He took the piece of string from his pocket and tied it around a bacon strip treat. He then tied the treat to a drooping branch from the large oak. The prize dangled safely out of reach of the sheepdog, but not its notice. Now, his former master could spend the next several hours in a futile quest, his concentration shot to hell, as a simple treat sapped the last of his human cognition.
Even as he turned and walked to the car, he heard the dog leaping awkwardly, determined to win for itself the treat left cruelly dangling overhead.