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.
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