Jared did not want to hurt his Mom, but he did not want to go to the pound either. He was not a dog, even though he looked like one. He tried to scuttle from her grasp, twisting his posterior to get his hind legs beneath him. But a sharp slap against the side of the face made him stop his struggling.
His Mom had struck him. Struck him like a dog. The realization of this made him feel very low, whimpering disconsolately as she fitted the collar around his neck so that it was snug. "Hmm," he could hear her say, "No tags on you, boy. Going to have to take you to the pound." She then stroked his ears as he lay there between her legs. "Don't worry, I'm sure somebody will adopt you."
Gripping the collar in one hand, his Mom began to drag Jared across the linoleum. He dug in his claws, yearning to break free, but not wanting to get slapped either. She did not strike him this time, but opened one of the drawers, and pulled out a dog leash, and attached it to the collar.
He'd been collared and leashed, just like a dog. Jare felt his tail sneaking up between his legs, his whole mind filled with terrible anguish. He'd hoped to have his Mom help make him a boy again. But instead, it looked like she was only going to make sure he remained a dog for the rest of his life.
Jared was so distraught, he barely objected when he felt a tug on the leash, following morosely after his Mother as she led him out to the car. She still had to lift him into the seat, and then hold him down as she closed the door to keep him from getting out.
Somehow, Jared was going to have to escape, he knew that, but in the fifteen minutes it took for her to drive him to the pound, and then in dragging him into the waiting room, no opportunity ever availed itself. Other dog and animal scents struck him as he was brought into the building. His Mom filled out a few forms, removed the dog leash, and then left him thre in the custody of strangers, people he'd never met before.
Another leash was placed on his collar, and even as he struggled against it, snarling and snapping, he was pulle into a metal cage and locked inside. The collar was still tight about his neck. There was a water spiggot inside his cage, and he licked at it a few times.
The batying and barking of other dogs filled his ears as he collapsed upon the metal grillwork, uncomfortable, but without choice or hope. He was going to stay here in this cage until a family adopted him, or he was destroyed. Jared would have cried if he could, because he was now going to be a dog for the rest of his life.