10 - A Farm Upstate

The first indications that the Mathesons had, that something wasn't quite right, was the note they found pinned to the front door when they returned home from their vacation early Monday morning. It read:

"I thought you said that your family only had the one dog that needed feeding, but there were two in the back yard when I popped over on Saturday morning.

I un-gagged the female and let her eat for ten minutes, like you said to do, then put her gag back in afterwards.

I left some extra food and water out for the other one. (He sure was friendly!)

They went through more food than you said they would over the weekend, but there was enough.

You can drop my twenty dollars off at the house any time you like.

-Victoria"

"Other one? What in the world?" Mrs. Matheson asked aloud.

"Well, we'd better go check, I suppose." Mr. Matheson said, sighing.

Mr. and Mrs. Matheson trooped straight through the house and out into the back yard. The sight that greeted them was entirely unexpected.

Sammy lay on her doggy bed, still curled up and sleeping.

And Bruno was laying down right next to her, spooned up against her backside. The large dog lifted his head up and yawned sleepily, then let his mouth fall open in a doggy grin of greeting as he caught sight of the two humans entering the back yard.

"Oh, dear." Mrs. Matheson said, as she saw Bruno snuggled up next to Sammy.

"Well, I suppose that I should have seen this one coming." Mr. Matheson said, shaking his head and rubbing at the back of his neck, his chagrin evident.

"You don't think that he..?" Mrs. Matheson began, giving her husband a knowing look.

"Of course he has." Mr. Matheson said, sighing. "He's probably been at her all weekend."

"Ohhh, dear." Mrs. Matheson repeated, looking worried.

--

A few hours later, after the car and luggage had been unpacked, Mr. and Mrs. Matheson were sitting out in the back yard, on the lounge chairs, eating lunch and looking at their pet, Sammy, who was dozing in the sun.

Bruno had been unceremoniously hoisted up and dumped over the fence earlier by Mr. Matheson, and Mrs. Matheson had spent nearly twenty minutes scrubbing the residue of the weekend's misadventures from Sammy, which was why their dog was now flopped on her side in the warm noon sunlight, sleeping while she dried off.

"Is Christopher around?" Mr. Matheson asked.

"He's playing his game in the living room." Mrs. Matheson answered.

"Good, that'll keep him busy for hours." Mr. Matheson said, nodding. "I don't want him overhearing this conversation."

"You mean, about what we're going to do with Sammy?"

"Yes, exactly." Mr. Matheson said, sighing. "I'm not sure if we're going to be able to keep her, after this."

"Do you really think Bruno might have.. have impregnated her?" Mrs. Matheson asked, her voice quiet.

"They're both young and healthy." Mr. Matheson replied. "I'd say that it's longer odds that he didn't."

"Well, we could wait, to be sure.." Mrs. Matheson said, her voice a little uncertain.

"If we wait, and she is pregnant, the shelter will charge us five or ten times the amount they normally would." Mr. Matheson stated, disgust in his voice. "I'm sure it'll be over a hundred dollars just to drop off Sammy like she is now. If we bring her in swollen with puppies, who knows how much it'll cost."

Both of the Mathesons were silent for a few moment, each looking at their pet, considering their alternatives carefully.

"Well, I suppose we could just keep her, and try to give away the pups after they're born." Mr. Matheson said, frowning.

"I'm afraid there's a problem with that option, too, dear." Mrs. Matheson said, shaking her head. "The Home Owner's Association agreement we signed when we bought the house."

"Damn, I'd almost forgotten about that." Mr. Matheson said, grunting in annoyance. "What's the fine for keeping dogs again?"

"Two hundred a month."

"Feh, we should have never signed that agreement." Mr. Matheson said, bitterly. "It's been nothing but trouble."

"They wouldn't sell the house to us otherwise." Mrs. Matheson said. "I wonder how the neighbor gets away with it. Those H.O.A. busybodies are always snooping around."

"Ah, you're forgetting, honey. Jones works at a bank." Mr. Matheson said, his tone dark. "Bankers laugh in the face of fines."

"Besides, he can probably afford it. But we sure can't." he continued. "I was willing to risk it before, because I thought we'd only have Sammy for a few weeks, at most, but now.."

"How long do you think she might take to come to term?"

"With puppies in her belly? I'm not sure." Mr. Matheson said, rubbing at his chin. "Several months, at least, though."

"Do you suppose we could just keep her inside, out of sight, until then?"

"Hmm." Mr. Matheson said, frowning in thought. "Maybe if we hadn't been taking Sammy on walks every morning for the past few weeks, but I'm willing to bet that most of the neighborhood knows that we have a dog by now. I'm actually surprised that one of those H.O.A. creeps hasn't stopped by yet."

"Drat. I'm completely out of ideas, then." Mrs. Matheson said, with a frown of her own. "I suppose we'll just have to get rid of her, won't we?"

"It's a bit of a shame, isn't it?" Mr. Matheson said. "I've really gotten used to having her around. I'd forgotten how nice it is to have a good dog."

"Though, honestly, I was already about to give up on her, anyway." he continued. "Sammy still seemed just as scared of other dogs as she was at the beginning of our little experiment. I was going to give it another week, then offer her the chance to be a human again, if she wanted it."

"Well, if how she was cuddled up with Bruno is any indication, she might have finally managed to overcome her fears, at least." Mrs. Matheson said.

"It doesn't really matter now, does it?" Mr. Matheson said, shaking his head. "Too little, too late, at this point."

The Mathesons went silent again, each thinking about what they were about to do to their pet.

"Dear, you know what happens to dogs that don't get adopted out after a few weeks, don't you?" Mrs. Matheson finally asked, several minutes later.

"I've been trying not to think about it." Mr. Matheson said, sighing.

"It's something we should take into consideration, I think, before we make a final decision."

"I.. don't think that it'll come to that, for her." Mr. Matheson replied, after a moment's hesitation. "She's a young, healthy, attractive dog. Someone will pick her out, surely."

"Will they still do that if she's pregnant, though?"

"Over the time frame we're talking about, it shouldn't be an issue." Mr. Matheson said. "She probably won't really start showing until after a month, or maybe longer, and by then the issue will already have been settled, one way or the other."

"Well, I suppose that's it then." Mrs. Matheson said, looking a bit sad. "When do you want to take her in?"

"Soonest begun, soonest done." Mr. Matheson replied. "I'll drive her over to the shelter in just a few minutes."

"What on earth are we going to tell Christopher?" Mrs. Matheson asked. "I think he may have grown quite attached to her, by now."

Mr. Matheson grimaced, clearly not relishing the prospect of telling his son that they had to get rid of the family dog.

"We're.. We're taking her to a farm, upstate. One where she can roam around free, with the other farm animals." Mr. Matheson said, his tone a little sour. "That's the line my dad used on me, back when I was a kid, and it worked. I didn't figure out what he'd actually done for years."

"I suppose." Mrs. Matheson said. "Do you think the shelter will give us a discount, if we give them all the food we've already bought for Sammy, when you drop her off?"

"Honestly, I doubt it, but I'll try." Mr. Matheson said. "Get Sammy on her leash, will you? I'll go get some cash and start the car."

--

A few minutes later, Mr. Matheson led Sammy through the house. He had her on a short leash, held firmly in one hand, and he carried a half empty bag of dog food in the crook of his opposite elbow.

"Taking Sammy out for a walk, dad?" Christopher asked, absently, not looking away from his game, as his father walked through the living room.

"Ah, no, actually." Mr. Matheson said, his face going a bit red. "Um, I'm actually taking her.. upstate. There's this farm, you see, and your mother and I think that Sammy might be happier there.. You know, where she can, um, play with the other animals, and stuff."

Christopher looked over at his father, quirking an eyebrow up, without pausing his game.

"I see." he said, mildly, then returned his attention to his game.

Mr. Matheson, hoping to avoid any follow up questions, beat a quick retreat out to the car, dragging Sammy along with him.

11 - The Shelter

The drive to the shelter wasn't a long one. It was located practically within walking distance of where Mr. Matheson lived, after all. It seemed him that one moment he was loading his dog into the car, and the next he was taking her back out and leading her into the shelter's entrance.

Sammy seemed particularly nervous, and he had to drag her along with more force than he usually needed to employ.

There was, unfortunately, a line, and he had to wait as several other people dropped off dogs of their own, before he could get to the front of the queue.

"Name?" asked the harried, tired looking woman sitting behind the front desk.

She was holding a clipboard and a pencil, and looking at him expectantly.

"Oh, uh, Matheson." Mr. Matheson replied.

"Not yours, hers." said the woman, pointing down at the trembling Sammy.

"Oh, sorry. It's Sammy."

"Name?"

"I just told you, it's Sammy."

"Not hers, this time, yours."

"Ah, right. It's Matheson." he replied, beginning to feel a little flustered.

"Age?"

"Um, mine or hers?"

"Hers, of course." the woman said, rolling her eyes. "Why would I need to know how old YOU are?"

"Oh, well, we're not sure, exactly, but young. Er, young-ish." Mr. Matheson lied, ineptly.

"Mmm-hmm." the woman said, clearly not fooled. "Breed?"

"Uh.. Caucasian, I suppose?"

"The standard drop off fee is one hundred dollars." she intoned, clearly having said the words many, many times before.

"Okay, that's fi.."

"If she's registered." the woman finished.

"Umm, oh."

"Is she registered?"

"Nnnoo. Not as such." Mr. Matheson said.

"Then it's an extra fifty dollars."

"I guess that's.. reasonable."

"She probably hasn't had her shots yet, either, has she?"

"Um, yes. Yes she has, actually." Mr. Matheson lied, again.

"Got the papers to prove it?" the woman asked, eyeing him.

"Uh.. no."

"No shots is an extra hundred dollars."

"Oh, come on, that's outrageous."

"Is she fixed?"

"No..?" Mr. Matheson said, wondering just how much higher the fees were going to pile.

"If you want to get her fixed, it's an extra hundred fifty dollars." the woman said.

"Jeez, it might be cheaper just to keep her.."

"Getting her fixed is not mandatory."

"It's optional?"

"Yes."

"Then why would I do it?" Mr. Matheson asked.

"Because fixed dogs are more likely to get adopted."

"Oh. Um, how much more likely?"

"A lot."

"I see. Um, I brought her food in with her. I, ah, don't suppose I could get a bit of a discount for that, could I?" Mr. Matheson asked, stalling for time as he thought about his options.

"No." the woman answered, her voice completely flat. "But you can leave it over there in the corner with the rest, if you like, before you go."

"..Alright, then."

"So, did you want to fix her, or not?"

"Umm.." Mr. Matheson hedged, looking down at Sammy as he thought.

"Nnno. No, I don't think so. I'm sure that she'll be fine." He finally answered, his concern for his checking balance evidently outweighing his concern for his soon to be former pet dog.

"If you say so."

"Are there.. are there any more fees?"

"No."

"Ah, good."

"That will be two hundred fifty dollars."

"Okay, just a moment."

"Cash only."

"Of course.."

"Plus tax."

"Oh, come on, you've got to be kidding me." Mr. Matheson complained, outraged.

"I am."

"Y-you are?"

"Yes."

"Ah, aha.. ha.. I see.." Mr. Matheson said, laughing feebly. "..Here's the money."

"Thank you. Here's your receipt."

"So, is that it?"

"Yes, that's it. Hand your dog's leash to the attendant, and drop your food off in the corner if you want, on your way out."

"Okay, thank you.. I guess."

"You're welcome. Next!"

The look Sammy gave him, as he handed her leash to the bored looking attendant standing next to the front desk, was almost heartbreaking. Her big, blue eyes were glimmering with tears, and she whined pitifully up at him, pawing him hopefully on the legs, as the bulky attendant started roughly tugging her through a set of heavy, double swinging doors, back into the shelter proper.

As the doors opened, a cacophony of barking washed out from behind them, making the trembling dog cringe and shudder in startled reaction. She pulled against her leash, fighting the tug of the attendant, looking desperately back at her father, her face terrified and pleading, begging him to come back for her.

Mr. Matheson, steeling himself, closed his eyes and turned away from his daughter. He didn't allow himself look back at her, despite his desire to get one last look at his former pet, as he dropped off the remainder of her food and walked towards the exit. His shoulders, which he had been holding hunched and tight, relaxed a bit when he heard the loud barking emanating from the back of the shelter stop. The heavy double doors had swung closed, once again cutting off all the dogs held behind them from the rest of the world.

It was done.

It had been hard. Much harder than he had expected, in fact, but it was done, just as it had to be.

He knew he would feel melancholy for the next few days, and miss petting Sammy in the evenings, or taking her out for her morning walks on the weekend, but he would get over it, eventually.

His wife, too, he thought, would be able to cope well enough, though she would doubtlessly be a bit depressed about the whole sad affair for a week or two.

It was his son that he really worried about. When the boy finally realized what his father had done to the family pet, would he forgive him for it? Mr. Matheson hoped that he would, just as he himself had eventually forgiven his own father, for doing the same thing to their old family dog, all those years ago.

Mr. Matheson sighed, then exited the shelter and got into his car. He then drove back home, leaving his pet behind forever.

Dogs get abandoned.

12 - Epilogue

"Hey, didn't you used to have a dog?"

"Yeah, but my folks got rid of her." Christopher replied, to the pretty girl who had knelt down beside him, next to where he sat on the grass, in the park.

"Oh, that's too bad. She was adorable." said the girl, a little pout coming over her cute features.

"I guess. My dad took her to the shelter a few days ago." Chris replied. "You know what's funny? He tried to use the whole "I'm sending her to a farm upstate." line on me."

"Oh, seriously? Gawd, who'd swallow that old line?"

"I know, right?" Chris said, picking at the grass absently.

"Hey, did your dad take her to the shelter just down the street?" she asked.

"I think so, yeah." answered Chris. "Why?"

"Well, she really was the cutest little thing." the girl answered, putting her hand to her mouth. "Maybe I can talk my parents into adopting her for me, if she's still there."

"Oh. Well, you probably shouldn't bother." Chris said, shaking his head.

"Why not?"

"My parents got rid of her because she was probably pregnant. The neighbor dog got into the back yard while we were on vacation, and spent the whole weekend rutting with her." Chris said, shrugging. "They didn't want to have to deal with the puppies, so they dumped her."

"Ohh. Well, I guess I don't want her now, either." said the girl, looking disappointed.

"Who would?" Chris agreed.

"Hey.." the girl said, a moment later.

"Yeah?"

"Have you, umm.." the girl started to say, hesitating a little. "Have you thought about maybe getting another dog?"

"Ah, well.. Not really." Chris said, honestly. "The last one was kinda nice, but I didn't like having to walk her every day."

"Oh. Wellll, if you ever changed your mind.." she said, smiling at him as her voice trailed off.

Her bottom wiggled back and forth a little, in apparent excitement, as she looked at Chris.

From the way she was moving it, it almost seemed like she was trying to wag a tail.

"I think I know where you might find another one. You could probably pick her up pretty cheaply, if you wanted. Maybe even for free." she finished, her grin turning wicked and her eyes sparkling, as she went to her hands and knees before him.

Christopher's eyebrows quirked up at her actions, then he grinned down at her in return.

Well, maybe he did want another dog, after all.

END

Author's note:

This one totally consumed my life. I saw the piece of art by Danaume, which I mentioned at the beginning of the story, and the little blurb of backstory that went with it, and it completely fired my imagination up. I knew I had to write out and expand on the story, or I'd never get any respite from the ideas banging around in my head about it.

There isn't a whole lot of sex in this one, which I hope doesn't disappoint people too much. But, most of my stories aren't really about the sex, anyway. The real climax of the story, I think, isn't when Sammy gets hounded by Bruno, but when her parents decide that, since keeping her would be more expensive than getting rid of her, she has to go to the shelter. Exactly the way people in real life often treat their pets, when cash is tight. It was at that moment that Sammy really ceased being a girl, and truly became a dog. Which is what the story was all about, after all.

Writing this story really took me back, to one of the very first erotic stories I ever read on the internet, nearly two decades ago. It was called "My Life as a Dog", by Owned. It was one of those stories that had phrases and imagery that just stuck with me, even after all this time, and it feels very "full circle" to now have written a similar themed story of my own.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this, dear reader, as much as I did. I'd love to hear feedback. Criticism, both positive and negative, is always welcome.

13 - Outtakes

"Wait a minute." Mrs. Matheson said, frowning at her husband. "It was two hundred fifty dollars to drop her off at the shelter, and would have been an extra one fifty if you had opted to get her fixed?"

"Yes. Given how much more it would have cost us, I chose not to have her fixed." Mr. Matheson replied.

"If it cost two fifty to get rid of her, but only one fifty to get her fixed, then why didn't you just get her fixed?" Mrs. Matheson demanded. "It would have been cheaper, and we would have gotten to keep her."

"I.. Uh.." Mr. Matheson stammered, looking at his wife and blinking in surprise. "Oh.."

"Umm.. Oops?" he said, a moment later, shrugging sheepishly.

"Dear, I love you, but sometimes you can be a real idiot." Mrs. Matheson said, shaking her head at her husband.

"Uh, should I go to the shelter and try to get her back..?" he asked.

"Ugh, no. What's done is done, I suppose." Mrs. Matheson replied, sighing and shrugging her shoulders. "Besides, if you go back there again, those con artists might swindle you right out of your pants this time."

"I guess I got so fixated on the idea of getting rid of her, that it didn't even occur to me to just get her fixed and keep her." Mr. Matheson mused.

"You've always had a one track mind dear. It's actually one of your more endearing traits." Mrs. Matheson said.

"Most of the time, anyway."

END END