I snuck out early last night, did not take either of our vehicles. Rex drove. His human has a Mustang GT. We love that GT. Even as a man I have the impulse to stick my head out the window. We spent most of the night looking into the suspicious murder the other night, seeing if we could pick up some scent.
We didn't. Well, nothing solid. We caught some strange scent. But we don't think it was werewolf.
If it is a human psychopath, a man gone over the edge of sanity, a serial killer, we let the police handle it. But, if it is werewolves, the police cannot handle it. Then it is up to us.
Now seems a good time to explain our mission and relationship to you humans, and to add clarification to any other weredogs that might be reading and following this.
Our mission is to take care of man. Man, in turn, takes care of us. Every so often you will hear some young pup complain, say that we don't need man, that we deserve to sit at the table and sleep on the bed. They yelp and whine until you remind them that man takes care of us, that it is man who makes the houses and cars, the factories that crank out the dog chow and, most importantly, the ranches that raise the cattle. Dogs don't care much about TV. But, weredogs, when in human form, can't live without it. I don't need my MTV, as I did in the 80s, but I sure do now need my CSI.
We have a mutually beneficial relationship, weredogs and man, that goes back many thousands of years. It goes much deeper than table scraps. Weredogs and man have a duty to take care of the earth and all the other animas. Even cats. To any dog that questions our status with man, I simply ask that canine, "What is God spelled backwards?" Can it be a coincidence what they named their God?
OK, got to go. They could be back any moment. And I still have to check my e-mails. I did not bother to put on clothes, so I am naked, upstairs, in case I have to change back quick. I am staying home tonight. So, will post something late. And Flecka sleeps better when I am around.
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