We hold regular and emergency meetings. We meet regularly, once every other week. But, there have been several emergency meetings lately, due to the werewolf threat. There is a tension amongst the pack that I have not felt before, in this pack. Some of this pack are newbies, and have never even seen, or fought, a werewolf before, much less smelled their scent.
We are eighteen. Taffy is a tan cocker-spaniel by day. Mac is a telecom analyst by day. Holly is a black great dane. Rex is a German shepherd. Buddy is a lawyer. Tessy is a stay-at-home mom. I am a shepherd mix. I spend my days napping and waiting to be walked, and occasionally, when the situation demands, I check e-mails and voice-mails.
There are 236 other dogs in our area of responsibility, the same area we are trying to patrol nightly. Part of our duty is to stay up with all of them, and their humans, make sure they are OK, see if they need help. When a family is having problems, we try to lend aid, if we can. More than once we, the pack, have worked behind the scenes to arrange job interviews, visits by cops and family services, lawn services, baby-sitters, and clergy. Father Patrick has received more than a couple mysterious and anonymous notes about parishioners, let me tell you. And last year I spent the better part of a month orchestrating and arranging for Bill Getty, a recent widower, and Karen Solomon, a recent divorcee, to meet. Both had kids and both were lonely. They married last month. I'm not the best dog on the block. But, when I am good, I am very good.
OK. It's 4am. I am beat. It's St. Paddy's today. I hope they don't take me to the parade. When they do they always humiliate me by making me wear some stupid green hat. Hopefully, they will leave me home so I can nap all day. I need it. I'l be out all night again patrolling tomorrow night.
Fresh meat to you.
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