WereSelection

Everyone is gone. I have to post this, then get some sleep.  I got in this morning just as everyone was waking up.  Sherry leaves for work at the hospital at 5:45 am. Jack gets the boys up at 6:00 am. I slipped in just after Sherry pulled out. The clock on the stove said 5:53.  Sherry didn't even notice I wasn't in the house. Jack would because he feeds us. 

The sweat is not even dry under my coat as I type this. I was out all night, as I was the night before. And the night before that. Halloween is Christmas for werewolves. So, weredogs have to do double duty. I have done more patrolling this week than I usually do in a month.

One thing to address, that I have been thinking about. It has been asked how one becomes a weredog.  I have thought hard about how to answer that.  All weredogs who read this may want to bite me for even considering to answer this one. But, here goes. What the hell.

You have to be selected, or chosen. There is no application process or protocol. It is all really just fate and chance.  One has to cross paths with a weredog and be in a situation, and possess the traits, to be a good weredog candidate. 

I will tell my own story as an example.  In the year 1861, when I was 6 years old, a middle-aged farm dog, my family was wiped out by Ojibwa Indians.  It was during what is now called The French and Indian War, or sometimes The Seven Years War.  The British and French were vying for control of North America.  The British had the Iroquois on their side.  The French had all the rest of the indian tribes. 

I was the only survivor.  Everyone else, the family, even the horse, cow and a litter of kittens, were killed.  They didn't even take the horse and cow, but killed then and left them to rot, as they did with all of us.  I never did find the cat's body. I suppose, in true cat form, she got away, and probably went feral. Too bad. I liked that cat. She had a great sense of humor. When she told a joke even the mice laughed.

James Roshman found me. I was more dead than alive. He was a neighboring farmer, had come to check on us, found just me bareley alive. He nursed me for a week before he made the offer to me, to become a weredog. He said that yes, I could get revenge. So, of course I said yes.

What I did not know at the time was that the Ojibwa, Ottawas and Lenapes had made deals with werewolves and were fighting alongside them.  Werewolves fit their theology nicely. So, the local colonists and weredogs needed help. They were outnumbered, and needed to boost their ranks. So, in my first days as a weredog, not only did I feed my need for revenge, in killing many Ojibwas, but also did I stoke my new hatred - for werewolves.  

The selection and transformation process takes anywhere from a month to three months.  Longer than that and a sponsor is going to start rethinking his or her decision of an offer to you. Even if you do get an invitation and accept, the odds of you being accepted by the entire pack, and making it through training and indoctrination, are slim. Mine took three weeks and the pack's vote amounted to: "How soon can you have him ready to fight?" But, it was a different and dire time.

Just night before last I was at a pack meeting.  At that meeting we voted on a candidate.  She did not make it, did not get enough votes.  Her sponsor, a member of our pack, knew the odds.  No hard feelings. But, we also now find ourselves teetering on the brink of renewed hostilities with the werewolves. As such, we need to recruit and build our ranks.

You never know who a weredog night be.  It might be your family dog, or one of them. Or all of them. (Although, that is not likely.  There are rigid rules about weredogs being pets in the same household at the same time.  One as dog and one as human is more allowable, actually.) So, the only word of advice I can offer is to try to make a good impression on every dog you meet. 

Or it might be the old man down the street, or a math teacher at the school, or that insurance salesman who keeps calling you about annuities. It might be the high school cheerleader next door, or the vet who has the remarkable rapport with dogs, but has to have a vet tech handle all the cats. Either way, man or dog, your best bet is simply to always present yourself as the best candidate you can make yourself out to be.  And watch the way others eat meat. Weredogs, in human form, tend to eat meat like the pope in rapture.

Your odds are better for becoming a green beret of a SEAL.  At least you can apply to those groups, have some control over your selection. And let me tell you, being a weredog is not all it's cracked up to be.  More on that at a later date.

OK. I got to get some coffee. Jack, dog bless him, left some in the pot. Then, sleep. Tonight is going to be a long night.