"Well, I guess we should get going, J-Simba," Dean looked at Jeff's car keys, and frowned, "I don't have a driver's license, and well, dog's cannot drive cars. So I guess we'll have to walk. Come boy!"
Jeff jumped off his chair, landing on all fours. He walked awkwardly, as his hind legs were still longer than his forelegs. His body continued to adjust as he followed Master downstairs, our the door, and down the block.
Mrs. Elkins was trimming her hedges as Dean walked by.
"Hello, Dean. Is that your new puppy?" Elkins asked uncertainly. Her awareness might be altered, but Jeff was still not all Retriever yet.
"Yes, his name is Simba. I'm taking him to the vet."
"The veterinarian seems like a very good idea. What breed is he supposed to be?"
"Simba's a golden retriever and he's 8 weeks old."
Jeff lay down on the sidewalk once Dean stopped walking. Now he was licking his cock and balls. He was oblivious that his brother and neighbor were watching him.
"8 weeks? My golden retriever didn't weigh more than 16 lbs when it was 10 weeks old. Are you sure that your dog is only 8 weeks old?"
"Oh, yes, Ms. Elkins."
"Hm. Well, hopefully the doctor can fix whatever is wrong with him."
"Oh, the vet is definitely going to fix him," Dean said glaring at his dog giving his dick a tongue bath. Dean tugged at the leash. Jeff got to his feet.
"Well, good luck with that. Oh, and when you talk to your brother Jeff, tell him I'll pay him what he asked to move those boxes in my basement."
"Jeff?" Dean asked, as he looked at Simba. The dog boy was now sporting floppy ears and a small wagging tail. It was staring intently at a butterfly flying by, and seemed oblivious to the mention of his old name "Jeff". Dean smiled and continued, "Jeff won't be around for a while. But I'd be happy to move your boxes for the same price. Would you like me to come by tomorrow or Saturday morning?"
"Saturday morning would be fine," Elkins said taking another glance at Dean's strange looking dog. She knew it was a golden retriever puppy, but something about it just didn't seem right. She took her glasses off and cleaned them on her blouse. Maybe she wasn't getting enough sleep.
By the time they reached the end of the block, Jeff's hindlegs were shorter, and he was walking like a proper dog. He was also down to about 90 lbs. Dean led him across the street, with any look by the time they reached the vet, Simba would be mostly dog.
"Squirrel!" shouted Jeff as he darted after a squirrel. Dean almost lost the leash, but he held tight, and shouted, "Heel!"
Jeff stopped but kept barking at the squirrel that looked down mockingly from the safety of a high tree branch.
"Bad dog. No chasing squirrels, Simba."
Simba slumped. Jeff whined, "Simba like chase squirrel. Fun"
"We'll have fun later, Simba. Now let's get to the vet. We can cut through the park...