Walking through the park is kind of nice, after you realize no one sees you as a naked guy, but only sees you as a dog. You enjoy the cool breeze against your furry skin. Your uncle stops near a metal post. You glance up and recognize a bag dispenser, the words on the sign above remind park goers to clean up after their pets. Uncle Jack extracts one of the plastic bags, and looks meaningfully at you.
You shake your head. There's no way that you're going to go in public. He pushes your haunches making you squat. You realize that you really do have to go, and his command to go seems to eat at you. You want to satisfy your master's wishes. He's not your master you think, he's your uncle Master Jack. You flinch, and decide to just do it.
The deed done you tug at the leash to get as far from the steaming heap as you can. Uncle Jack scoops it up in the bag and deposits it in a waste can.
He pats your head, "Very good John-John, I am glad to see it was a healthy stool. Wasn't sure what my sister has been feeding you."
He tugs at the leash and leads you toward the opposite end of the park. He stops near a big tree. You sniff, and then mark it with your own urine. Again you merit a pat on the head for being such a good dog. You're rather proud of yourself, and trot obediently behind Master Jack along the concrete sidewalk. Only as you encounter the step going up into a store front and hear the bell ring do you realize that you have not returned to Uncle Jack's store, but are instead entering a veterinary clinic.
You sit dutifully at your uncle's feet while he fills out a form on a clip board. There are several others in the waiting room. A woman with a parrot. A teenage girl with an attractve female chihuahua. You blush as your cock twitches in its sheath. She's a dog for goodness sake. There is a woman with her son and caged hamster, and a man with a persian cat.
He tells you to stay as he hands in the clipboard to the receptionist. The other animal's owners are called first, and after 30 minutes, you and your uncle are alone in the waiting room.
"Jack, it says that this is John-John's first visit, and you need to get him licensed. We can do the licensing here as well as the shots, but we've got two different packages. It's $500 if you just get the shots and license - a breeder's license. But it's only $250 for the shots and license if you have him fixed, and it's only $100 to have him fixed. So do you want to pay $500 or $350 for the license and shots?" the receptionist asks.
"He's my sister's dog. Let me have a look at him," Jack says. He reaches over and runs his fingers over your body. Then he grabs your muzzle and looks at your teeth. "He doesn't look like a show dog to me, so I may just go with the cheaper option. But I'll let the vet look him over first, see if he's worth breeding, don't you know?"
You whine.
"There boy, I haven't decided yet. You just be on your best behavior for the doctor and we'll see what he says."