With an understanding established between himself and the Boxer, Jared didn't try to rein back his optimism. Feeling the little uptick in his confidence, he longed for another shot at impressing the next family that walked through the doors of the shelter.
A few hours later — he knew because of a clock on the wall outside the holding pen — he flopped onto the concrete floor with his shaggy face nestled in his forelimbs. "Where are all the people wanting pets?" Jared barked.
The Boxer trotted over to him and gave a doggy shrug of its sleekly muscled shoulders. "We don't really get many people," the dog revealed to Jared.
"What?" Jared let distress leak into his yelp. "I can't get adopted unless people come here wanting a dog!"
The Boxer narrowed his eyes. "Don't you mean that we can't get adopted?" The dog growled softly.
"Yes, of course, I meant we," Jared said. He didn't need to alienate his only ally.
Jared gave his sheepdog body free rein to pace the front of the pen, staying near the front bars of the holding enclosure so he could keep an eye on the rest of the facility. At the same time, he felt an arousing itch whenever he ceded too much control to his doggy instincts. He knew that the naturally docile sheepdog had already submitted to being Big Guy's bitch. The danger rested in how much the sheepdog had actually enjoyed the encounters with the big, brutal alpha male.
He didn't have to worry for long, though, when diversion arrived in the way of a father and son. This looked more like what Jared envisioned as a rescue. He hadn't really relished the idea of going home with the little girl. She would probably have had him attending silly doggy and doll tea parties. He shuddered.
This boy looked only a little younger than Kevin. He should make a great owner. "Not an owner," Jared corrected himself. He didn't want an owner. He simply wanted a temporary ticket out of the shelter until he could make his way back home.
The father looked friendly and genuinely interested in pleasing his son. "You can pick out the one you want, Jimmy," the man said. "This will be your dog."
Jared made a beeline for the boy. He walked to the bars and began licking the bars in lieu of the boy offering his fingers. "Look at me, kid," Jared whimpered.
At the same time, he heard excited woofs and saw the Boxer leaping and bounding around Big Guy to keep the Rottweiler distracted.
"That's a funny one, Dad," the boy said.
Jared barked. "No! Look at me!"
Big Guy growled and lunged at the Boxer, but the more agile animal simply spun out of the frustrated Rottweiler's way as Jimmy clapped his hands, delighted by the performance.
"Hey!" Jared barked at the Boxer. "Lure the kid over here."
The Boxer ignored Jared and approached the kid, imitating everything Jared had done earlier with the little girl, including whimpering in a pleading manner while licking fingers.
"This one!" Jimmy decided instantly. "He really likes me!"
Jared bounded over and tried to push the Boxer out of the way. "I like you," he barked. "I'll be a better dog for you."
He couldn't believe it. He was fawning all over the kid and even promising to make the kid a good pet. The worst part came with the crushing rejection.
"Shoo!" The father said. "Bad dog."
Jared groveled on his stomach after offending the nice humans. It was all going so wrong.
One of the shelter workers arrived, delighted to learn the man and boy had picked out a dog.
"Bastard," Jared growled as the worker liberated the Boxer.
"Sorry, bub," the Boxer woofed. "Every dog for himself."
Anxiety crept into Jared's brain, and he reacted by surrendering a bit of space to Shaggy, who knew just what to do. He retrieved a rawhide bone from a corner of the pen and moved to a corner to sulk and worry the bone. Gnawing and sucking on the durable rawhide calmed both boy and dog. The more he slobbered over the bone, the less Jared worried about the way the Boxer had used the knowledge he had provided to escape the shelter with the boy and his father.
He barely looked up when two shelter workers returned and stood outside the cage as they filed the paperwork for the Boxer's adoption.
While one worker filed the papers, another walked over to the enclosure and looked at the sheepdog going to town on a rawhide bone. "You like that, do you, boy?" The man asked.
The sheepdog growled in case the man had designs on the bone. "Don't worry," he said. "I'm not going to take it from you."
He walked along the front of the cage, letting a set of metal keys rattle along the bars. "You ought to be paying more attention to these people coming in here wanting a dog," the man said. "Come Monday morning we are going to have to evaluate which of you guys get to stay a little longer."
That Jared heard. He needed to rouse himself after letting the sheepdog have so much control.
"It's Friday afternoon!" Jared realized with a soft whimper. In a little over 48 hours, he could be — He wondered what criteria the shelter used to judge which dogs made the cut and which ones did not.
He was panting wildly, and he tried to take a deep breath. He still had two days to convince a family to —
His eyes focused on a sign on the wall that listed hours of operation. Monday-Friday, 9-5, Saturdays, 11-3, but closed Sundays. His eyes darted to the clock. It was already 3:30. The shelter would close in 90 minutes. He would have four hours tomorrow if any people happened to visit looking to adopt a dog. There would be no opportunities on Sunday.
Then — Monday morning.
Jared whimpered. "Kevin, where are you?"
Just when he thought things couldn't get any worse, Big Guy arrived.
"On your feet, bitch," the Rottweiler ordered.
Jared's feeble grasp on his shared mind slipped when the compliant sheepdog submitted instantly, almost eagerly, to the alpha's will.
As Big Guy enjoyed himself, Jared stared at the clock on the wall and wanted to howl.