Back in the Groove

Just got home. Started tonight at a pack meeting. Went to a bar afterward. Wound up scouting some areas for neos and werewolves. 

Patrolling and scouting is fun when inebriated. I don't recommend it. I am home now and cannot shift to dog until I drink enough water. Dog physiology does not do well with alcohol. Blessing and a curse.

I have not seen Jack or Shelly smile or give off good vibes or happy scent since the day I got back. They are more miserable than when I left. Not sure what I expected. Jack is still unemployed. Sherry still hates her job, hates getting up in the morning. They talk only when exchanging I-hate-you's. 

There are still werewolves of the old school around, hungry for human blood, wanting to settle some score with us weredogs.

I was told at the meeting tonight that I need to go to the lab where the neo bodies we took at the puppy mill were taken. Maybe next week. Warin will go with me.

Warin told me that he has to tell me something. I told him if he needs to come out of some closet, tell me he is gay, I don't really give a shit. "We all lick our own balls," I said. He said that's not it. 

Earlier this week I followed both Jack and Sherry out. I did not talk with them. Just followed them. Watched. Listened. Sniffed. Ate and drank some. Just a bit. 

Last weekend all of us, minus cats, went to the ranch. Jack's family has a ranch down near Beaumont, Kansas. It used to be his grandad's. They got some horses there, lease the fields and pastures out to nearby ranchers. We all slept in a 10-man tent. Except for me. I always sleep outside. I hate tents, and like to stay out in the open where I can see and smell the area without any nylon obstruction. 

3 coyotes approached the camp. They didn't see or smell me until 1 nearly stepped on me. they were headed for the cooler and the bacon and eggs inside, for breakfast. Jack always makes bacon and eggs, over an open fire, for breakfast at the ranch. I stood - was over a foot taller than all of them, and had the largest outweighed by 40 lbs. 2 of them bolted. 1 stood his ground.

I was amazed, and said, "You're not afraid?"

"You're a weredog," she said.

"A female?"

"Yes."

"What do you know of weredogs?" I said.

"Just what the werewolves told me."

She said there were 3 werewolves living on a nearby ranch. I asked her to take me there. 

More on that later. I got to get some sleep. Right after I try some of Jack's new whiskey.