Chapter 8 Sam Encounters the Crazy Dog People And Dean Does Not Get A Studded Collar
Sam had barely walked through the door of 'Paws 4 Thought' ("Where your best friend is our favorite customer! ! !") when he realised that he'd made a dreadful mistake: he'd broken a Rule (incidentally, it was one of Dad's Rules of Hunting as well as Dean's Rules of Women). 'Always make sure you know what you're dealing with before you go in, and arm yourself accordingly.' He'd been so keen to get away from Dean and find something to fix the problem, he hadn't bothered to do any further research, and now…
Here he was, strayed carelessly into the territory of The Dog Lovers, without even a bottle of holy water on him.
A pack of them hovered just inside the door, intense expressions on their faces - and when they saw him, they began to stalk their prey.
"Hi there!" said a middle-aged smiling woman, apparently the alpha of this pack, "Can I help you?" Three other young women watched him with sparkling eyes, and sparkling teeth.
"Er, I hope so," stumbled Sam. "I've, er, I've kind of, just adopted this dog, and…"
Foolishly, he had mentioned the magic words 'adopted' and 'dog' in the same sentence. This turned out to be a powerful charm: the three other women dropped what they were doing and rushed at him with startling cries of "Awwwwwwwwwww!"
"How wonderful for you!" the smiling alpha gushed. "What's he or she like?"
"Um, he's a wonderful animal, really, he's affectionate, and happy, even has a sooky side apparently… um, he's not really misbehaving, he's just being a bit, um, disruptive." These people were far too intense - Sam couldn't stop looking at their teeth. "He's getting into everything. I'm trying to get some work done, and he keeps wanting my attention every few minutes… he's just…big and boisterous. And nosy. And irritatingly cheerful."
"Aaaaaaaah," they had all chorused together, exchanging pointed looks.
"Aaaaah?" echoed Sam.
"Sounds like a typical Rottie, yes?" the alpha had pronounced. Her younger colleagues nodded knowingly, making affirmative noises.
"Er, yeah, I guess," agreed Sam, smiling desperately, having no idea what these creepy women were talking about.
"So," she continued, "Some things to keep a large, intelligent dog occupied, let's see…" two of the younger women grabbed his arms and steered him towards an entire wall covered in dog toys. Sam blinked, feeling slightly shell-shocked; he had no idea there were that many dog toys in the entire world. They peppered him with rapid-fire questions.
"Does he chase balls?"
"Does he play tug of war?"
"Does he retrieve?"
"Does he like to swim?"
"Is he a power chewer?"
"Er, really, I'd just like something for him to amuse himself with while I try to work," he said, starting to feel dizzy.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaah," they'd all chorused again. Alpha woman had recommended a couple of toys, and Sam had readily agreed, if only to escape sooner.
"Is there anything else we can help you with?" she'd asked.
"We have a special on collars and harnesses this week," trilled one young sidekick.
"These are very popular for Rottweilers!" bubbled another, holding up a wide black leather collar with silver studs on it.
"Ooh, there's a matching walking harness to go with that," added the third.
A completely unwelcome mental picture of Dean wearing a studded leather collar and matching harness popped into Sam's mind, making his brain screech in protest at being required to produce such an image. "No," he said quickly, feeling his knees wobble, "We're good for collars, and, um, stuff. Definitely don't need any collars. With studs. Oh, God…" his stomach did a somersault with half-twist.
"How's his diet?" the smiling alpha suddenly demanded.
"Oh, he's good," said Sam, trying not to gibber, but that mental picture had rattled him terribly, "He eats what's put in front of him, no problem there, although he does have a bit of a problem with dog-breath, which isn't surprising, since he's a dog, ha ha, it's kinda stinky though, and he also has a tendency to, um, you know… the other end… when he sleeps… it's pretty bad…"
"Aaaaaaaaah," they did their creepy chorusing and nodding thing again.
Alpha female had plucked two packets from the shelf behind them. "These biscuits can help keep his teeth clean, which will help with the dog-breath, and they have charcoal and chlorophyll in them, so they'll help with the other problem as well. And these are called bull chews – good for teeth cleaning, and one will keep him occupied for ages. Dogs just love them."
"Sounds perfect," squeaked Sam, grinning desperately back at them.
"Good luck with your new best friend," tweeted one of the young ones, bagging his purchases for him, "Next time you drop in, bring him with you!"
"We can get him to try on some collars!" giggled another one.
Sam giggled right along with her. "You know," he said, feeling an edge of hysteria creeping into his voice, "I think he'd really, really, like that."
….oOoOo….
When he got back to the yard, Bobby was dishing up lunch. Sam watched in amazement as Dean happily face-planted into a plate of pasta and sauce.
"But… it's full of vegetables…" he breathed incredulously.
"Don't seem to worry garbage guts here none," grinned Bobby. Dean lifted his head to offer Sam a cheerful "Arf!" before returning to demolishing his lunch.
"So, how did it go?" asked Bobby later, as Dean sniffed inquisitively at the bag Sam had brought in. Sam shuddered involuntarily.
"I suppose silver ammo would do it, but I'd have to take some back-up as well," he mused to himself, "Well, there's this thing," he continued, fishing out a furry toy with four long tails and floppy ears, "I think it's supposed to be a rabbit. With tentacles. A rabbit-squid. An octo-rabbit. If it doesn't go 'woof' I think those people are a bit hazy about the anatomy." he waved it in front of Dean, who sniffed at it curiously, then sank his teeth into it. It made a squeaking noise. Dean's eyes widened in delight, and he bit down on it again.
"Armf!" he declared, running a couple of laps of the room before heading for the sofa, chewing contentedly at his new toy.
"Well, that one's a hit," remarked Bobby. "What else?"
"I got this treat ball," said Sam, "You're meant to put kibble in it, but since this is Dean, I figured… " he brought out a bag of peanut M&Ms. Bobby chortled. "There's also these chlorophyll and charcoal biscuit things, which should improve the, er, aroma problem at each end, and these things called bull chews." When Sam pulled one from the bag, Dean dropped his octo-rabbit, and hurried back over. "They smell pretty strong, but…" Dean eyed the chew intently. "You want one now, bro?" Sam offered it to him, and Dean took it in his teeth, loping back to the sofa where he settled, gnawing vigorously and making contented little noises. "The sales woman said that one of these would keep him occupied for ages… what?" Sam noticed that Bobby was laughing.
"Oh yeah, dogs love bull chews all right. You know what they are, right?"
"Some sort of beef jerky, I guess," said Sam, "Bobby, is something wrong?"
"Wrong? No, no, nothing wrong," said Bobby innocently. Sam's eyes narrowed.
"Bobby, what?"
"Nothing," repeated the old Hunter. Sam gave him a confused look, but Bobby wouldn't say any more.
They went back to the books; the toy and the chew did indeed keep Dean occupied until he went to sleep again, twitching gently and making gentle "Arf' noises.
"He seems to be sleeping a lot," remarked Sam, "Is that normal?"
"For a dog, yeah," replied Bobby. "At least he seems to be having happy dreams. Wonder what he's chasin'?" He sniffed, and pulled a face. "Phew, let's hope the charcoal biscuits are just as effective as the distractions."
With Dean out of the way, they were able to make some progress with deciphering the spell. Sam took a moment to type a query into his laptop.
Later that evening, he had his answer.
From: Problem Pup 2 Perfect Pooch
To: Dog'sdoormat
Dear Dog'sdoormat,
The staff at the pet shop are right, bull chews are good for your pooch's teeth, and will help with his breath. They are actually the dried penises of steers sent to slaughter – sounds dreadful to us, but dogs do love them! Try thinking of them as 'beef jerky' rather than dwelling too much on where they come from.
Smooches to the pooches, the team at PP2PP
"Well, I'm ready for some dinner," announced Bobby, standing and stretching, "I got some steak in the refrigerator – I'm betting he'll like it."
Sam looked over to the sofa, where Dean was gnawing contentedly on his bull chew again. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to laugh out loud, or retch.
"Er, thanks Bobby," he said uncertainly, "But for some reason, I'm not really hungry…"
... and the people who work in those pet warehouses are really that creepy. Srsly. If you work in a pet warehouse, then I am just backing away slowly, smiling and nodding, not breaking eye contact...
I can thoroughly recommend an octo-rabbit Wubba toy to keep a dog occupied, though - if you're lucky, they'll test the squeaker to destruction early on in the piece.
