Michael stood aside as Freddie's parents emerged from the car. Dad's carried a bag loaded with takeout containers. Freddie can smell the appetizing aromas from the food that they have selected for dinner.
He trotted over on all four paws and sniffed the bag. His dad lifted the bag higher and jovially disappointed his son's hopes. "This is not for you, boy."
Freddie whimpered and turned toward Michael. "Would you mind if we talked?" Michael inquired of Freddie's parents.
They looked surprised by the request, but his mom tried to put a good face on it. "Are you and Freddie having problems, dear?"
"No," Michael said. "It's nothing like that."
About that time, the breeze changed direction. Instead of smelling the delicious takeout meals, Freddie got a whiff of 100 percent Ellie, the female Australian shepherd from next door. He didn't see any sign of her, but he could definitely tell, from one good sniff, that she was present. It was also enough that, combined with the earlier ear scratching, caused him to sport doggie wood right there in front of his parents and Michael.
He felt like his face must be burning from the mortification of the boner between his legs in the presence of his parents, but they and Michael were largely ignoring him.
"It's going to be a little strange," Michael explained to Freddie's mom. "It does have to do with Freddie."
Freddie's dad's a certified public accountant. He's always busy in tax season, but Freddie honestly has no clue what he does the rest of the year. His mom's a nursing supervisor at a local family physician's practice. Both serious, stable people, not all that imaginative, and Freddie listened as his boyfriend prepared to out him as a dog. He began panting and drooling. He felt more anxious than when he had before the talk coming out to them as gay. More nervous even than when he introduced Michael for the first time as his boyfriend.
"Where is Freddie?" Dad asked.
"He's around," Michael said, looking uncomfortably in the German shepherd's direction.
"Maybe we should go inside and talk then." He held the door open for Michael, but when the dog tried to slip into the house, he drew back the door and blocked entry. "Not you, buddy."
Freddie felt sure Michael would intervene. But nothing changed. Dad barricaded the door until mom entered and then closed the door right in my face.
Dog's don't carry watches or phones, obviously, so he had no way to know how much time had passed. He finally decided to rest and simply sprawled indecorously on the front porch. As he continued to wait, he felt an irritation near the base of his tale. Once he noticed the maddening motion of the flea, he couldn't let it go. He tried shaking his tail to dislodge it, but that action had no effect. "What the hell's it doing?" It felt to Freddie like the original offender had invited a friend. He curled his body so he could reach the section of tail with his mouth. He got his jaws closed around the furry tail section and began to try to ferret out the aggravating nuisance.
It wasn't the best position to find himself when the front door opened and Michael, flanked by Freddie's parents, stared down as he chewed on his own furry tail to gain some relief from the pesky flea.
Mom looked horrified, but dad's expression glared like the darkness ahead of a storm. "You expect me to believe that some hocus-pocus ring changed Freddie into... that!" Dad said loudly.
"It's true," Michael said rather miserably. "I'll show you. Freddie, come here."
They stepped onto the porch as the German shepherd got on all fours and trotted to Michael's side.
"We have developed a way of communicating," Michael said, explaining their two bark, one bark system. "Freddie, am I telling your parents the truth?"
With some reluctance, Freddie barked twice.
"That could be a trick," mom argued.
Michael agreed with her. "Would you both please ask some questions for which only Freddie would know the answers?"
Mom started. "When he was ten, he broke his arm on a water slide at the beach."
Freddie started to bark twice, but stopped on the first bark. He remembered that he had been twelve and not ten. Mom looked worried.
"His favorite pizza topping is sausage," Dad tossed out. Freddie barked twice.
"Remember when you started kindergarten, one of the big kids on the bus picked on you," mom said as she wrung her hands. "His name was Brian Garrison."
Barking twice, Freddie remembered some of the torments Brian "Gorilla Garrison used to inflict on him, such as making him eat a bug or get a beating. He'd eaten the bug, but Brian had still inflicted a painful noogie.
"Those are a lot of yes questions," Dad said, trying to retain skepticism.
"Freddie always says his brother is our favorite," mom suggested.
Freddie barked no. His little brother, who thankfully was out of town on a sixth grade class trip, always complained that their parents favored Freddie. In some ways, perhaps Josh was correct.
His father tried one more time. "He always hid in the attic when he got into trouble as a kid."
Freddie barked once. His go-to hiding place had always been in the basement behind the water heater.
"Oh my god," my mom lost it and reached down and hugged the German shepherd around the neck. "Oh Freddie!"
It took my dad's more stalwart reaction to calm her down. "Don't panic," Dad said. "Michael's already told us that the condition isn't permanent. Right, Michael?"
"Well, so far," Michael replied. "He's only changed twice, but I'm not really sure what triggers a transformation of what prompts the curse to let him change back."
"But you'll keep studying that ring?" Mom asked with a hint of desperation.
"In the meantime, I don't think we have to let anyone outside the family know," Dad said. "Well, with the exception of Michael, obviously."
It was a bit rough for Freddie knowing that his parents had been perfectly fine with letting him conduct himself as openly gay, but they were not so quick to want to advertise to the world that their son sometimes changed into a German shepherd.
"I guess we can handle it from here," Dad said. "We should let Michael get home and keep researching the ring."
He barked once. He didn't want Michael to leave.
Michael crouched on the porch and patted my head. Damn him! A pat on the head like a real dog right in front of Mom and Dad!
"They're right, Freddie," he said. "Hopefully, you'll change back again and that will be that."
Freddie whimpered but agreed. Michael petted him again, said goodbye to his parents, and departed.
Freddie raised his head expectantly.
"You'll have to go back to town, dear," Mom said. "Buy a bag of dog food... get the organic kind. It's what the neighbor feed their dog."
Freddie barked once.
"I know you probably want your General Tzo's Chicken, dear, but everyone knows that people food is bad for dogs."
Dad kissed her cheek. "I'll hurry back."
"Oh, you better pick up a collar and leash. You know.... for walks."
"Right," Dad said.
"Thank god we've got the back yard fenced," Mom said. "He can stay out there and sleep under the carport. I'll arrange a nice, warm blanket."
"Outside?" Freddie barked in protest. "Why can't I stay in my room?"
He hadn't expected this sort of treatment. He was still their son.
After dad left, mom told Freddie to follow her. He bounded off the porch, around the side of the house, and watched as she opened the back gate. She stepped through the gate, and he followed.
She wiped her hands on the front of her blouse. "Very good, Freddie," she said and walked to the back door. Once again, Freddie reached the door only in time for it to close in his face.