Robot Eating Dead?!

Holy hell. Received this recently from a weredog friend. Sometimes people really worry me. Don't these people ever watch movies, for chrissakes? Have they not seen any of the Terminator movies?! Can someone please give them a wake-up call?
- Chester

Military Robot Could Eat Dead Bodies
A steam-powered robot is being designed to fuel itself by consuming organic material, from grass to furniture or even dead bodies.

But c'mon, could the U.S. military really deploy something to do that without a global outcry? The 'bot, from Robotic Technology Inc., is called the Energetically Autonomous Tactical Robot (EATR). It can "find, ingest, and extract energy from biomass." http://www.livescience.com/technology/etc/090715-military-robot-could-eat-dead-bodies.html

Chester: The human pursuit of technology is frightening. It is something that even us weredogs do not often understand.
- Chester

Looking Down Jack's Barrel

When I got home last night I planned to slip in quiet, take it easy, no email, snacks or beer. Just head upstairs and find a comfy spot on the floor near Jack and Sheri's bed and get some shut-eye.

About 3am I heard something outside, on the east side of the house. I got up quietly, oozed downstairs, which is a real challenge because 3 of the stairs squeak, and went over to the east end of the house and listened. Sure enough, someone, or something, was out there. I had to find out who or what.

I shifted to weredog form, then called up Warin. No answer. He was out. I slipped out the patio door in back and made my way around to the east side. Someone was there, or had been. Their scent was still warm in the air, on the bushes and grass. It was in my mouth and nostrils like ripe cologne.

I moved down to the fence. Nothing. I then turned 4 degrees left and moved into the neighbors yard. After several minutes I was back moving into our yard having not seen or heard anything. Then I heard the shuck-shuck of a 12 gauge.

I knew immediately it was Jack. I know the sound of his Ithaca 37. I am a shotgun man myself, when in man form. I have always favored shotguns when I soldiered, in human form. Only for close in work, of course - trenches, buildings, cabins, dense jungle, that sort of thing. I alos know that Jack keeps 12 gauge rifle slugs loaded in that bad boy. I know where all Jack's weapons are located. I keep them in mind in case I might need them. Especially the .45 and 10mm. And Jack was aiming that bad boy right at me.

Thank Dog I was still in the trees and bushes some. Jack said, "Come on out of there, reeeeeal slow." I said, "Hey, Jack, take it easy. Relax, man." He lowered the gun just a bit, squinted, and in a voice a few octaves higher, said, "Who is that?" "Me." "Me who?"

As we talked I was shifting to human form. Finally, I came out into the night. He shined a flashlight on me. "What the hell are you doing here, man?"

I implied that I was visiting one of his neighbors, a wife, trying to sound hesitant to say more. He held up a hand, lowered the shotgun, said, "Never mind. I don't want to know who." He invited me inside for a beer. I accepted.

"Haven't seen you at the bar recently," I said.

He nodded sagely. "Haven't been to any bars much lately." He told me all about his recent travails and terrors. Most I knew. Some I did not. It is amazing, but there are things a man will tell a drinking buddy that he will not tell his dog. I don't understand that. Suffice it to say, I did not know the full extent of how bad things are.

Jack got to where he could not keep his head up. He told me to let myself out, then went upstairs. I said "OK," then waited ten minutes before I checked all the doors and followed him up.

I drank only one beer with Jack, and none of the new Eskimo vodka he got this week. I wanted to sleep alert the rest of the night, in case whatever was out there before came back around.

Now, here we are, the next night, Sunday, and now signs or sounds to report. I told all the other animals to sleep alert. Rooster does anyways. And Sparkle barks when a firefly farts across the street. I am going to get some sleep. We should be covered.

Willie the Wonder Dog

Things were quiet this week, until last night. I went over to Warin's. As you might recall, he lives only a few blocks from me. Convenient. When I walked in the house I immediately picked up a strange, and somewhat disturbing scent. Not dangerous. Just odd.

I moved into the house slowly, quietly. I found Warin in the kitchen with Holly and a guy I had never seen. But, it was his odd scent I picked up at the door. Warin and Holly said hello and introduced me to Willy.

Willy was chattering away when I entered the room. He looked to me and never stopped. He was smoking. Weredogs, like dogs, hate cigarettes. But, sometimes we will use them to mask scent in a small room. Outside, in the open, fires can do the same, depending on winds and temp. But, I digress.

Holly got a call on her mobile and walked out to talk. Warin said he had to go upstairs. "You 2 get to know each other," he said, then left the room. I offered Willy my hand. He took it, shook it like a puppy on a chew toy, and launched off again on a verbal ramble-assault that would have sent a hyper-active shitzu in retreat.

"You're hyper," I said when after about five minutes he stopped to breath and take an extra long pull on the current cigarette in his chain.

"Actually, I'm not hyper," he said. "Really?" "No, really," he said. "It's learned behavior. I'm actually very laid back. Near corpse like. Matter of fact most of my family members and co-workers are always asking me if I'm stoned. I'm not. Not anymore. The reason I often seem so is because I watched too many soap operas as a child. It killed half my brain. Cartoons killed the other half. You see my mother was a welfare mom and to make extra money she did ironing out of our house. Why was I not in school, you ask? Well, I was home when I was not travelling as Willy The Wonder Dog Boy. See, another of Mom's money making gimmicks w⁄as to tour me with a carnival as a side show. Willy The Wonder Dog Boy. That was me. Of course, I wasnt a dog, or even half so. What we did was whenever my Mom gave me and my brothers and sisters our six-month haircuts she would save the clippings and super-glue them to my cheeks and neck. She got very good at it. It was quite convincing. So, then I would go off with the carnival. The superglue usually lasted as long as the carnival season did, until my skin was so raw that she had to stop. We really ran into trouble when I reached adolescence. Acne played havoc on my facial fur. And also my bite began to get worse than my bark. Haha. Little joke there. The outcome of all this also is that I can immitate perfectly the barks of thirty-two different breeds of dogs. I am told I could have a very lucrative career as a dog caller except for the fact that no one hunts dogs. For years I have been lobbying Alabama to step forward and be the first to declare Dog Season. I'd be set. I already have a robust business plan to release a whole series of books and tapes on how to call different breeds of dogs. Would you like me to demonstrate?"

"No, that's OK. You dont need to do that."

"It's no problem."

"No, please, don't."

"OK. Another time maybe."

When finally Warin came back down he had a half-smile on his face. I gave a little growl that only heard to let him know my displeasure and need to flee. Holly came back in and said, "Come one, Willy. Let's go."

After they left I said, "What was he doing here?"

"We need him," said Warin.

"Why is that? For what?"

"He knows about us."

"How so?" Warin shrugged. "Says he can smell us. He came right up to Holly at the mall and asked what breed she is in dog form."

"Oh shit."

"Oh yeah." Warin went to his fridge and pulled 2 Boulevards while I mulled over this information. He came back over to me, handed me one, and said, "And he claims that he lives with a family of 'gars'."

"A family of what?"

"We call them 'neos'."

"Oh hell."

Mother Squirrel

This just crossed my radar.

Lesson for the day: Don't mess with mother squirrels.

This black lab mix thinks to have some fun with this juvenile squirrel.

But, mommy has other ideas.

"Whoa! Hey, lady! Get the hell off me!"

"Wait. What the hell just happened here? Did I just get my ass whooped by a squirrel?!"

Maybe the larger lesson is: Don't mess with mothers.

Fwd: ScienceDaily: College Students Find Comfort In Their Pets During Hard Times

This crossed my radar recently. Anyone surprised? I always improve the
quality of life of those I live with.

Chester

College Students Find Comfort In Their Pets During Hard Times
http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2008/12/081223091318.htm

A new study suggests that college students may handle stressful
situations better if they have a pet. Research has already shown that
pets can improve the quality of life for people who are aging or those
who are chronically ill. But researchers have recently found that many
college students may also benefit from owning a cat or a dog.

I have heard it suggested, many times, that if people were more like dogs, then people would be happier, the world would be a better place. But, if people were more like dogs there would be other outcomes. Sexual morality codes would be completely different. And people would be dogs, not people. 

The Dog Genone

"We may be more like dogs than we think."  Go figure.  They estimate the dog genome is around 19,300 genes, but that there are around 20,000 genetic differences between species. Sheesh. How the hail does that work out?

 ScienceDaily -- Molecular biologists have completely sequenced the first dog genome. Understanding how genetics plays a role in canine diseases could lead to new treatments for diseases shared by humans, such as diabetes, epilepsy and cancer. Breeders could also soon be able to check the purity of pedigrees by sending dogs' cheek swabs to the lab.

http://www.sciencedaily.com/videos/2006/0704-doggy_genes.htm#

Warin is the Key?

Warin's pitch at that pack meeting 2 nights ago is exquisitely simple: He is a weredog-werewolf hybrid. There are others, few. And they are the best hope to defeating the neo's, this new species that seems to be bent on both our extinctions. 

The human neo's have adapted to replace homosapiens, just as homosapiens replaced neanderthals, and the way dogs nearly replaced wolves. A hybrid is the best bet of doing an end-around of the natural order and process of these types of things. 

This was met with some silence, and then a major absence of silence. It took some moments for the realization to hit most present that what this hybrid plan would require is for lots of weredogs and werewolves to link up and do the "big nasty." I kept my mouth shut.

There are reasons why weredog-werewolf unions are taboo, why the entire concept of  hybrids from such unions has for eons been verboten, even under pain of death.

Just got home. Made the rounds with Warin. We talked. You can about what. Also, I have other things to catch up on. Need to get online with my Schwab account and sell some stock. Got an former lover trying to connect with me in Facebook. I want to chat with her. But, can never see her. The problem is that she is now around 64, and I still look the same, in human form. Well, in dog form too, for that matter.

Also, got to actually get some shut-eye tonight, at least a couple hours. Jack is taking us to the dog run at Shawnee Mission Lake in the morning, early. Can't wait. It's always a circus there on Saturday mornings. And lots of babe action, in terms of both dogs and women.

Warin's Inquisition

So, Warin is a half-breed and some dogs have been howling for an investigation, inquiry, inquisition. Take your pick. 

Weredogs, and werewolves, have traditionally feared half-breeds. I have always been told that werewolves killed them as pups, as soon as they found them. The problem is the unknown. No one completely understands or can predict how these creatures, these hybrids will act and behave, to whom will go their loyalty. 

Keep in mind the eons-long war that weredogs and werewolves have been locked into, each bent on and dedicated to the other's annihilation. But, if you recall all my recent interactions with werewolves lately, in particular Dionna and Diella, you realize that things have been changing between weredogs and werewolves. 

So, last night's pack meeting was full. Everyone was there. Holly presided, tried to maintain some semblance of order. The gavel did not work. So, she resorted to howling. Holly can howl. 

First several dogs spoke about the danger that Warin presents, how we cannot be certain of his loyalty. They went on about history and tradition and order. Several of them veered off into rabid anti-werewolf rants. 

Finally, Holly said it was time to hear from dogs who support Warin. I was the only one who rose to speak. I said that Warin has stood with me, fought alongside me, ate out of the same bowl with me. I know his scent, I said. I trust him as much as anyone. 

There was silence. Holly then asked if Warin wanted to speak.

The silence flattened as Warin stood, in human form. He looked around the room, then said, "I am the key to defeating the neo's."

Warin's Story

OK. Here it is: Warin is a mix. His mother was a werwolf and his father a weredog.

Now, that may not seem like a big deal, if you are human. But, in the canine world, especially amongst weredogs and werewolves, it is a very big deal. It is verbotten in weredom. Taboo. 

There is another troubling aspect to Warin and these types of unions: procreation. Werefolk are not supposed to be born.

Werefolk are not born. They are "brought in," initiated, or "converted." For example, I was born a dog, then was brought into weredom, if you will recall, after my family was slaughtered during The French and Indian Wars. Werewolves are the same - born either wolf or human and make the change.

That is except for Warin and folk like him.

For reasons no one understands, weredogs and werewolves can procreate. Their offspring are, as you might imagine, hybrids, both dog and wolf, with behaviors and traits of both. 

Made It Out

Jack slept tonight. I made the meeting. Good thing. And I did not have to drug him or knock him out. I swear.

Also - I found Rooster. He has been missing for just over a month. I saw him near where the meeting was, miles, and miles, from home. I called to him for 2 minutes before finally he approached me. 

"Hey. It's me. Chester," I said.

I looked at me like he could not think who that was. Then his body relaxed, some, and he came right up to me and said, "Got any food?"

I told him I did not, but at home I could fix him up. He looked at me. "Home?"

"Yeah. You know. The house with all the people, and food. The people provide the food. Remember?"

Too much to tell about the meeting. Suffice it to say that Warin needed my support. There are allot of nervous dogs around here right now, some willing to do anything. Someone learned of Warin's ancestry and some started howling for an inquisition. Dogs are worse even than people when it comes to inquisitions.

Need to sleep now. Up at 6:0am when Jack gets up to feed up. Flecka insists on eating early. 

Up with Jack

Have not been able to get out at night lately. Not since last Thursday. The new situation involves Jack staying up all night, watching TV and getting drunk. He just passed out about 30 minutes ago.

Jack cannot sleep. I have noticed other symptoms of his emotional instability - outbursts of anger, crying (yes, it's true) or often just tearing up, bad memory, inability to concentrate, or focus, clumsiness, and icy stoicism. There's more. But those are the biggies.

Men crying and tearing up in a no-no, of course. Except in certain circumstances. Hell, I get choke and teared up whenever I hear the songs Ballad of the Green Berets and Copperhead Road. Every time. Can't even help it. 

Anyway, I have not been able to get away, to get out at night, and have missed several appointments as a result. What is a dog to say? It's not like I can just shift in front of Jack and say, "See you in the morning."

Flecka's nose is better. The medication Jack has been putting on it seems to be doing the job. It is entertaining to watch them. Jack has to sit on the floor and hold her nose and mouth, so that she cannot lick it off, then apply the liquid med and hold on for ten minutes so that she odes not lick it off. Twice a day. Sometimes she cooperates. And sometimes it's like watching a crocodile trying to drown a grizzly, the way she twists and turns, trying to get away from Jack's hold. 

Jack and Sherry took me for a walk tonight. Not Flecka. She has been low on steam lately. She smells OK, though. Just old. And 2 bad knees. Anyway, it got dark before we were halfway. We went through a park near the house. It weaves between 2 subdivisions. It got dark quick in that park, due to the density of trees. Sherry got a little scared, and said so. Jack laughed. I would have, but huffed and whined instead. Between me and Jack, she had nothing to worry about.

My point of this story is the fire flies. There were thousands of them. Everywhere. It was like being in a fairy storm, or on some sort of ride at Disneyland. The 3 of us just had to stop at one point and stand there and stare in wide wonder. 

Soon after, a few strides down the path, I heard Warin's bark. It was a bark that said, "I need to talk to you. Urgent." Crap, I thought. Oh well. I pulled the leash free of Jack's hand and took off. His cursing behind me assured me there would be a price to pay for this. It better be worth it.

I latched on Warin's scent, and found him, in dog form, nearby, several houses away, in the back year, under a lilac bush. He said I have to make it to a pack meeting tonight. It is essential I am there. He smelled very serious. So, I better be there. Warin gave no clue what this is about.

If Jack does not go down early tonight, I may have to knock his ass out. 

Raids take aim at dogfighting network

Raids take aim at dogfighting network - Kansas City Star

Shared via AddThis

This has been building for some time, and several weredogs have been involved. This has been a hot topic of discussion in pack meetings for many months.

Reply to Brandon

Brandon wrote:

"I wonder when humans began to think of themselves as better than every other species. Did it just randomly happen? or were they always like that?"

See my previous post. No. Took place over many millennia. When  mankind got to the point where they thought they could hunt and kill every other species, that is when they thought they were superior to every other species. That is also when warfare started to take off. They realized that for killing to really be a challenge they would have to kill each other.

This is in context of a primal mindset. A higher order mind realizes that all beings have the same existential worth, in the eyes of God, or whatever standard one wishes to apply.

Reply to Swiftpaw

Swiftpaw wrote:

"If you look at the history of humanity and it's view of nature and other species it seems that it was Christianity and Islam that started the idea of humans being superior. Then some people use evolution as an excuse, that because humans have larger brains then they are more intelligent and are there for superior.

Many non-Arabic cultures had great respect for other species; the Native Americans, Chinese, Japanese, Africans, Egyptians, aboriginal people, Indians, many island cultures, even the Creeks and Romans on some level.

Though there are some people in these days who do try to coexist with animals. There are some non-zoo people who take care of certain animals that most people view as very dangerous, like cougars and even wolves."

And...

"Unfortunately it seems that alot of the problems in this world seem to be caused from what I call Superiority Complex Disorder; the believe that oneself or one's species/race is the best thing in the universe and everything else is inferior. 

I think that most humans need to learn and understand that just because they are the most technologically advanced species on the planet, they aren't anymore better then any other species. In a fair fight most other species can beat a human.

I believe that many species could get along with humans and adapt to life within civilization, but only if humans give them the opportunity."

Chester:

It was a long time before mankind considered himself superior to all the other species. Gradually, over time, mankind learned to hunt. The early humanoids were gatherers and scavengers. But, over time they learned to hunt, got good at it, developed newer and better weapons, and eventually became the premier predator on the planet.

One key factor in man's development has been war. War has played a big part in defining men and mankind, and thus, women too. The first sports were designed to train boys, and in some cultures, girls, for fighting and hunting. Play serves the same purpose for other species, such as felines and canines. Sorry. Name dropping. I know.

It has only been during the last several millennia that man has flirted with this idea of his supremacy. Religion has driven that trend. But, more so has science. It is science that has led mankind to abandon the steward way of thinking toward the earth, and other species. Religion is only too happy to throw in on that hand also. 

All human cultures harvest and objectify other animal species. None are exempt. It is not about cultures, or religions. It is about human nature. Humans have survived because they have the capacity to be barbaric, to do whatever it takes to survive. They are capable to great heights also - art, poetry, music, things that brings tears even to this dog's eyes. but that higher mind sits right next to barbarity in the human soul.

Yes, there are people who keep and raise wild animals, like cougars and wolves, and tigers and lions and bears. On the whole, and this is my opinion, not a good idea. Wolves are not dogs. No matter how you raise a wolf pup, it will always be dangerous, more so than any dog breed. Bears and lions are even more dangerous. Trust me. I have known a few cougars and bears. Bears in particular have a nasty temper. Remember, I lived in the American wilderness in the late 18th and early 19th centuries.

I agree that most people suffer from superiority complex. Many believe they are better than other species. Heck, many believe they are better than other people because they have more money, or a bigger house, or go to the right church. Buddhism doesn't go in for that, one of the reasons I like Buddhism. I encountered Buddhism in Nam. Mostly Theravadhists there. But, this superiority has to do with the ego, and is tied to the human survival instinct. Go figure.

And fair fight? A fair fight is whatever you can bring to a fight. If that be tooth or claw, so be it. If it be rifle or knife, even better. The only rule of violence in the animal kingdom is to win. "Fair fighting" is a human construct. Wolves and werewolves can't even wrap their minds around it. If you mean bare-handed and bare-pawed fighting, that certain species would have advantage over man, like bears, then yes, they would. But, man's greatest weapon is his brain. 

US Army Special Forces teaches its trainees that "Your mind is your greatest weapon." It's true. If a man in facing a fight with a bear, or any other animal, the first thing he does it look around for a weapon, a rock or stick. If he doesn't, the human gene pool is probably better without him. Well, maybe. You know what I mean. Not all humans are cut out for violence.

Many species are already adapting to civilization. Suburbia around here in KC is exploding with hawks and owls. They're adapting. Foxes and coyotes also. And rabbits. I've never seen so many rabbits. But, live together in harmony, in human houses? Not until they are domesticated. 

By the way, remember those Planet of the Apes movies from the 1970s? Just curious.

Don't get me wrong. It is not my way to criticize people. But, I do wish that mankind would get back to practicing more stewardship of the earth and all the other species. Ever since WW2 corporations have driven mankind away from stewards and towards what can only be described as pirates, plundering and pillaging at will. 

Everyone is asleep. I got to get ready to go out. Patrol tonight. And I'm having one of Jack's beers when I get back.

Chester.

Vane's Ops

I spent about 2 weeks with the Badlands werod.  I posted about that a while back, maybe 2 months ago. One of the weredogs I got to know is named Vane. He spent some years in Iraq and that AO. His time there is a hell of a story. He called me recently, said he is ready to move. 

Here is Vane’s story.  

He was serving in Iraq with the US Army, as a dog. He arrived in-country at the first part of 2005.  

Rumors were that they had started drowning dogs in late 2004. Some said it was because stray dogs were a nuisance. Others said it was out of fear and revulsion. During the Battle for Falluja Marines told of stray dogs eating the dead, mostly Hadjis, since we killed around twelve-hundred of them, and lost in the neighborhood of sixty of our own. 

He and his handler had taken to caring for a litter of puppies that were living in a drainage ditch near their compound, inside their FOB. Every morning, on their exercise run, they would divert to the ditch to feed the puppies MREs that his handler had appropriated.

This went on for a few weeks until one morning they arrived in time to see a backhoe burying the ditch, and the puppies alive. They heard one desperate yelp, that was cut off by a load of dirt.

Civilian contractors were hired to kill nonmilitary dogs on US FOBs. Each dog had a bounty, like wolves in the old days. Not just strays, mind you - nonmilitary dogs. That included pets.

General Order 1-A prohibits military personnel from adopting, befriending or caring for stray or indigenous animals when deployed. They are very serious about this in combat AOs, and particularly picky about this in Iraq.  The harder the fighting the less they want the soldier’s violent resolve melted, even a little, by furry friends. 

A sergeant took in a female stray and talked the handlers in Vane’s unit into hiding her in their kennels. She looked enough shepherd to pass for a military dog. Her kennel was next to Vane’s. They sniffed, talked, became friends. They were even taken out to the exercise yard a few times. She said she wanted to go with Vane on patrols. He told her that, no, she did not. 

A plan was hatched to get her out of Iraq. It had taken the help of several dog groups in the U.S., numerous Army, Marine and CPA folks, quite a few favors, bribes, promises and several bottles of Jack and Canadien Club passed hands. All the benevolent sergeant had to do was get her on a plane at the Baghdad Airport. 

The road to the airport is dangerous. Very. It is a smorgasbord of old IED blast points, wrecked vehicles, stains of all sorts. The sergeant smuggled her to another FOB where he had arranged a 3-hummer convoy to the airport. He was worried she would bark or whine and give her presence away, that some LT would hear her and order her shot on the spot. Didn’t happen. They made it to the airport. 

The sergeant had all her vaccinations and orders in order, made it all the way to the tailgate of the aircraft. They were waiting on the strip to board the aircraft when one of the civilian bounty hunters came up, grabbed her leash, pulled her from the line, and shot her right there on tarmac. The sergeant had to be restrained, not to kill the bounty hunter.

When Vane heard of her shooting he went a little nuts. He let himself out of his kennel that night and slipped away. He wished he could tell his handler goodbye, leave him a not. But that was not possible. 

There were other litters and strays that he had been helping out and caring for, nights. He collected them all and set out to find sanctuary for them all. I won’t go into the details here. Too many, too long. And his story is both beautiful and ugly. A main problem is that most Arabs do not like dogs. 

Vane returned to the U.S. during the summer of last year, 2008. He has spent most of that time with the Robinson werod, recovering, cleansing, waiting to forget. Weredogs have not been prone to doing dog rescues, anymore than people are prone to people rescues. Less. But, so many things are changing. So much is at stake. 

I'm not sure what he means be "ready to move." Waiting to hear back.

What Would Happen?

Brandon asked: 

"What would happen if Werewolves and Weredogs were suddenly exposed by the media? The footage would have to be irrefutable to the point were it could not be argued that it was just a large animal or something like that, but still, what do you think would happen?"

Several things preclude that ever happening. First, science, which is very hostile to things that do not fit its theories and schematics. When science does find something that does not fit, it makes it fit, with a hammer. Or it gets hidden away. Two, religion. Same. Anything it cannot explain it paints as evil, Satan's work. 

For these reasons werefolk, weredogs and werewolves, cannot yet come out into the light, so to speak. (Keeping in mind, we already are in the light. We weredogs prefer the day, and go out at night, for pack meetings, patrols, etc, only because we have to. No other choice. Werewolves are the same. Wolves like the night. But they love the day. Wolves and werewolves have simply learned that night hunting is very advantageous for most prey. Special Operations troops know the same truth.) 

Another consideration is that all werefolk know that mankind is the greatest predator. Ever. Or, so far. Even werewolves, who Hollywood would suggest rules the night, fear the predatory instincts of man. They remember that they were almost hunted t extinction, like their Neanderthal partners so many eons ago. 

So, it behooves us, all werefolk, to stay off mankind's radar. But, when that is at risk, on those few situations, then there are methods in place to correct. More than once rescue and extraction operations have been conducted to get werefolk, dogs and wolves, out of facilities where their testing and exposure could lead to some dangerous changes. When we weredogs do such no one gets hurts. When werewolves do it they leave behind a blood trail and corpses.

It has also benefited us over the centuries, as I've mentioned before, to allow ourselves, weredogs, to be misidentified as werewolves whenever we have come up on the radar. That is also one of the things that has pissed off werewolves.

Again, what anchors dog's bond with man is our fear, as much as our love, for man. It is a tenuous and exquisite balance. We value being "Man's best friend" above all else. Falling off that seat would be very dangerous. Dog help us.

How do the Neo's factor into all this? Not sure yet. Are they the new top predator? I still have yet to share what I learned at that lab, about what they learned from the neo corpse. I am still coming to terms with it myself. 

It is 4th of July. Jack, Sherry and the boys are gone, whooping it up with friends. It is overcast with winds today. That might jeopardize some of the many fireworks displays around the city tonight. Already I am hearing fireworks around here. I wish Jack had remembered to sedate me. It's ironic. I have fought in many wars, as both man and dog, and weredog, seen a lot of fighting. But, in dog form I still get anxiety attacks on the 4th due to the sounds of fireworks. I don't know why. I may have to shift to human form and go drink beers all day to get through this day.

Happy 4th of July.

Chester

Flecka's Nose

Flecka's nose problem is an auto-immune deficiency.  Jack nearly yelled at the vet, "My dog has AIDS?!"

I heard Jack retell to Sherry about the vet visit. Jack is very vocal in his retellings. The vet said that no, Flecka does not have AIDS, which is a human only disease. Flecka's condition is just a dog affliction. 

The vet said you treat it with steroids via either oral or topical. He said the oral would probably make her incontinent.  Jack opted for the cream, knowing that having Fleck pissing and shitting in the house would have bad impacts on Sherry's moods.

So, Jack has to put this stuff on Flecka's nose twice a day and hold her head and nose for 10 minutes to keep her from licking it off. Sometimes she cooperates. Sometimes she doesn't. I tried to explain to her what is going on. She said she doesn't care. She doesn't like it. 

I've never heard or seen such a thing. A dog's nose is about as important a piece or anatomy as any that a dog has. What is a dog without a nose?  People clip our ears and bob our tails. But thank Dog that people have never messed with our noses.

Ricky had a major tantrum the other night. He hit Sven in the face, knocked him down, and threw Sherry across the room. Jack had to take him to the floor and restrain him like a POW. What triggered Ricky was that he was told that he could not go to a movie with a friend. 

There is a new weredog in our Pack. Her name is Duchessa. She goes by "Dutch." She just moved here, just shifted back into human phase, is looking for work. Said she's worked a lot in law, but wants to take a break from that. She's a looker. I'll get a pic of her, in dog form, of course. Tonight. We have a pack meeting.

Rooster has been missing for a week. A couple days would not worry me. A week worries me. I like that mangy ol' cat. I put out the word to keep all eyes, ears and noses open for him. Sparkle keeps asking me if he will come back. I tell her he will.

Tomorrow is the Fourth of July. Dogs hate the Fouth of July. The firecrackers drive us nuts. Even most weredogs hate it. Those who can clear out of town and go somewhere quiet. Hopefully Jack will give me a sedative.

Darwin Killed Off The Werewolf

Darwin showed that it is impossible for us to exist. It was during this time, in the latter half of the 19th century, that we weredogs, and werewolves started to keep a lower profile.

Also, keep in mind, as I've mentioned before, that weredogs used to be seen a lot by people, and were usually misidentified as werewolves, which suited us fine. But, we never hurt anyone. Scared a few men, women and children, freaked some people out, sent some screaming to the church or the bottle. But, hurt anyone? No. 

As a matter of fact, as some of you may have suspected, and I have this from very good authority, the Little Red Riding Hood story was derived from fact. But, the wolf was actually a weredog trying to get her safely to grandma's.  The story was greatly skewed for better telling. And in that time a talking canine could only be evil.

Darwin Killed Off The Werewolf

http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2009/06/090616080135.htm

It was Darwinian theory that did away with the werewolf. The publication of Charles Darwin's On the Origin of Species exactly 150 years ago focused minds on a different kind of monster - ape-men such as the Yeti, Bigfoot and Sasquatch. From then onwards, werewolves were relegated to a fictional footnote.

Chester
chester.weredog@gmail.com