Being a Dog

I have been doing the dog thang allot lately, due to my injuries and convalescence. I am mostly fully recovered, now for nearly two weeks. But, I have been staying close to home for two reasons. One, Fleck is doing bad, going downhill. I have been sticking close to her. So has Jack, and Sven. Jack is downstairs sleeping on the floor next to her right now, as I type. The fire burned out. He has a couch pillow and a small couch pillow. I took a large blanket down stairs and put it over him, and her, Flecka. He won't even think about where it came from, or he will think that it was Sherry. I worried about Flecka.

I have been to one pack meeting in the past month. Things are quiet. But, we four new pack members.

One is a lawyer, just coming off a dog phase and getting back into the law. She was just hire by the Blue Valley school district. They had to fire 5 teachers to pay her salary. She is unapologetic. "It's necessary," she said. She just bought a brand new BMW. Also necessary. I meet more dogs who seem like wolves, and more wolves who seems like dogs. Strange days.

The other new member is a former Marine who now works as a hair stylist. We talked, get along well. He and Warin and I got a little drunk swapping military stories. He says working as a stylist is interesting. Many people assume he is gay. He does not talk or move as a gay. We, weredogs, do not have the same fears about homosexuality as you humans do. We could care less. Hell, we lick our balls, in dog form. You would too, if you could reach. Well, probably not. It is not appealing in human form, only in dog form. Don't ask me why. Anyway, the stylist could get a lot of action from clients and other stylists. He is a big, manly, fit guy, afterall, he is a weredog, but does not partake of any of that at all. Instead, he stays true to the woman with whom he lives. And her kids. He loves those kids.

The third pack newby just got back into the pet game. He says it is always challenging, that, to go back to pet mode. He is right.

The forth is a police dog who is approaching retirement. She said she cannot wait for retirement. The police dog gig is unique in weredom. Being a police dog is almost like being a human, in terms of working the 9 to 5. It is definitely not the same life as that of the pet.

Those four bring our pack up to a nice healthy size, full-strength. Warin comes over twice a week to watch TV, drink some beer, and bring me up to speed on everything. He said there are rumors in the pack that we will be ramping up operations. "Against whom?" I said. He did not know. Nor did he hazard a guess. But, I think I know.

An Aesop's Fable: The Dog and the Wolf

This was sent to me by a . . . friend, a werewolf, in fact.


A gaunt Wolf was almost dead with hunger when he happened to meet a House-dog who was passing by.

"Ah, Cousin," said the Dog.
"I knew how it would be; your irregular life will soon be the ruin of you. Why do you not work steadily as I do, and get your food regularly given to you?"

"I would have no objection," said the Wolf, "if I could only get a place."

"I will easily arrange that for you," said the Dog; "come with me to my master and you shall share my work."

So the Wolf and the Dog went towards the town together. On the way there the Wolf noticed that the hair on a certain part of the Dog's neck was very much worn away, so he asked him how that had come about.

"Oh, it is nothing," said the Dog. "That is only the place where the collar is put on at night to keep me chained up; it chafes a bit, but one soon gets used to it."

"Is that all?" said the Wolf. "Then good-bye to you, Master Dog."


The Moral: Better to starve free than be a fat slave.


I disagree, of course. I understand the point, where all you werewolves are coming from. I also find it interesting that I find so many of you moving into man's world, more and more wolf packs moving into cities and towns, even into suburbs, living in houses. How does that trend play with the moral above? Hmmmm? Can you spell "hypocrisy"? Howl once for Yes. Whine twice for No.

As I have said and write before. the lives of dogs and wolves are not as simple as they used to seem to me. The dog and wolf paradigms are shifting. Big time.

Hunting

I cannot vouch for the authenticity of this, or say where or when it was printed. Could be 20 years old. Or could be last week. But, I can say that I have seen and heard this and other confusions, in regards to hunting and farming.

Ask yourself this: Would you rather be the deer in the field or the steer in the pasture? Which has a better chance of survival?

An ironic twist to this is that werewolves, and wolves, have always claimed that they are like the deer in the field, hunted, but free, and that we, dogs, are like the steer. I, of course, do not agree. I am as much predator as any wolf. I just happen to sleep most nights in a house, on a rug.

But there is definitely something about being on the hunt, pursuing prey, that plucks a primal string in every canine, or human, or felines too, I suppose. That is unless you are one of that species that prefers its meat made at the store.

Good and Evil

I have had a lot of time to think lately, as I laid up, trying to heal. One thing I have been thinking a lot about is good and evil.

As long as we have been with man, we weredogs have never really understood, completely, mankind, and their ways. You claim to value good, the virtues in people. But, it is really the opposite. Admit it.

Good is boring. Evil in interesting. Who usually attracts the girls/women, the good boy, or the bad boy? Most women want a bad boy. What makes an interesting story, good characters, or flawed characters, good characters with bad traits, problems flaws? You get one guess.

Why is this? Can someone explain it to me? I have been awaiting comprehension for a very long time.

Most weredogs have spent an enormous amount of time over the centuries reading and studying on this. Take wolves and dogs. Dogs are man's best friend. But, who does man most want to emulate?

Wolves are the evil ones. But if you look back as far as the 7th century A.D. in Anglo-Saxon Britain, everyone and his brother is naming their sons "Wulf" or "Wulfen."

Does anyone know of any historical Celts named "Dog" or "Hund" or "Chien" or "Canis"? I know of none. OK, there was Doggen. But he was Japanese, fer chrissakes!

And let's not forget that man nearly hunted wolves into extinction. Just another piece of the puzzle.

Been Convalescing

Been down. Convalescing. 2 sets of hurt.

Set 1 happened when I thought I saw Sarah and got hit by a car.

Set 2 amounted to me being ambushed. In my weakened state I was easy peakins'. I should probably be dead. I suspect I might be too tough and mean to die.

I know it was Sarah.

Got a lot to catch up on. Way behind on emails and RSS feeds.

Alice, Jason and Bill, sorry it took me so long to reply.

Chester

2 dogs, One Handler

This was sent to me by a friend, a dog I spent time with up in the Dakotas last spring.

What's going on here is that this handler is taking a break with his dog, the shepherd on the left, and a stray, the long-coated white dog on the right, who they happened to meet.

Look at their eyes, all 3 of them. The white stray is desperate for the touch, the connection. Look at the shepherd's eyes. He knows what she is feeling. He empathizes.

My friend is the shepherd. He is currently in human phase and working as a lawyer somewhere in Indiana. Can't say where exactly.

The handler didn't make it. My friend still mourns him. Hard.

Up All Night

Jack has been making things very difficult for me lately. He has been staying up all night many nights lately, ranting and storming about the house. He acts manic. I hope he is not crazy. I hate dealing with crazy people. They are so unreliable in feeding dogs.

The other night Jack was up all night, and I mean all night. I followed him around all night just in case I had to keep him from hurting himself. Round about 4am he was starting to freak me out. I was prepared to shift if I had to. Didn't matter. He was out of his head.

Reaching out to and coordinating efforts with the werewolves requires my presence at pack meetings and on patrols. But I cannot get out of the damn house. Because of Jack. I'm about to knock the sumbitch out. I could then get out of the house and he would get some sleep.

Jason asked, via email, if werefolk really shred our clothes when we shift, like in the movies. No. We don't. That habit would be very bloody expensive.

Jack just passed out. Time to go.