Vane in Turkey

Been thinking about Vane. He is in Turkey living in what can only be described as a dog sanctuary, several remote villages populated by werefolk and people.

He got out of Iraq in 2011 with 32 dogs and pups. They made their way into Kurdistan, picking up more dogs along the way. A few became werefolk, mostly weredogs. But not all.

In my recent travels I found Vane and spent some time with his werefolk and people. I could have stayed much longer. That part of the world is not kind to dogs. Strays are common.

There are a number of new dog TV shows, such as Dogs in the City (CBS) and One Nation Under Dog (HBO). Americans spend billions each year on their pets, most of that on dogs. At the same time puppy mills and dog abuse continues and wolves are still hunted and pressured in those few places in the U.S. where they are trying to hang on.

In truth, mankind inflicts more barbarity on itself than on canines. That is the human way. Aggression and violence is at the core of the human condition. Were that not the case humans would not have survived as a species. Fighting has always been part of survival.

We weredogs have always known this, and learned to live with it, to accept it. But things are different now. Mankind has the means to take barbarity to a terrifying level. In light of this, many weredogs are adopting attitudes toward mankind which have always been considered heresy.

Counter-Dog and Dentist

I am in southern Illinois. Yesterday I went to see an old friend who is a weredentist. I needed to have my teeth checked and to catch up with and check in with my friend. Last time I saw him was in Budapest, about 20 years ago.

Going to the dentist for werefolk is more involved than for people. The dentist has to check your teeth in all 3 forms - human, dog and weredog. The chairs have to be specially made, to change to fit your form as you shift. A dog's back is not that of a person, and a weredog's is not that of either of those. 

After I was done, three hours later, he and I went to lunch. I met him in Vietnam, on a tour when I was Special Forces and he was Spetsnaz. I know. Odd. But such things happen with with weredogs. He served as a dog once and twice as a Spetznaz adviser. 

Dogs were used allot in Vietnam by the U.S. But the NVA used them too. Soviet influence was key in that. Spetsnaz was the Soviet equivalent of SF. My went back to Russia after the war and for a time lived and worked in Siberia, as a game warden, a tracking dog and a lumber foreman. Over time he spent more time alone. Eventually he left Russian, decided to come to the U.S. for a while. He still has the scent of Siberia on him.

We talked about many things, from RVN, before it and after. One of those topics was counter-dog measures used in RVN.

• Dried blood mixed with cocaine was effective. But required creative acquisition methods.
• Caporic acid and I-valoric was nasty.
• CS powder was simple and effective. Messed up your nose for hours.

My friend said that sometimes animals fats still make him edgy.

My teeth are still sore and I am waiting for the driver of the next leg of my journey to pick me up tomorrow.

Kids and Wolves

Otto and I went into the woods last night and found something that made us lose our howl: Human children being raised by werewolve and wolves....and weredogs. All were children in dangerous or abusive situations. One was rescued from being held captive by a psycho whose body will never be found.

Werewolves taking in human children, not turning or eating them, to care and raise them, is such a bizarre twist and change that it is hard to grasp. Otto was dumbfounded. He later admitted that he had heard rumors of wolves raising kids but had discounted it as impossible. 

This is not entirely new to me. On the way back home last spring I spent some weeks with several packs of wolves and werewolves in Canada and Montana. In those packs I saw several human children. But nothing like this, not these numbers. And not with weredogs involved.

In one pack, one night around a fresh kill, I was sitting and taking in the symphony of scents and sounds, when a human boy walked past me and took his place at the kill, a moose, and began eating. It was obviously his place as many of the present wolves and werewolves, eating and watching, recognized him with a whine or growl or nod. He replied to all. And he ate.

I asked him later who he was and how he came to be there. He simply said, "This is my pack."

At another pack, somewhat further south, I was in talks with the elder wolves and weres when news arrived of a lost girl not too distant. I immediately left to go look for her, and was mocked and chided as I left by many of the younger werewolves of this pack.

I traveled in weredog form, to make better time, and to better adapt to the terrain, of which I was not familiar. I traveled about fifty klicks (kilometers), about 30 miles, using the chatter of the forest animals to zero in on her, before I picked up her scent. The nearest rescue part was still about six miles away over very rugged and hilly terrain.

I assumed dog form, so as not to frighten the girl, approached her, found her some berries to eat, but no meat, knowing that she would not eat raw squirrel or trout, and curled around her that night to sleep, intending the next morning to take her to the rescuers.

The next morning, en route, we were intercepted and surrounded by werewolves and wolves. "Give her to us," they said through teeth that left no doubt to their intent. I shifted to weredog form and prepared to fight, possibly my last good fight.

"Stand down," roared the werelder from behind them. He came into the small open area wherein we stood, dappled with sunlight through the trees, and turned to look at each of his young wolves. Then he said, "We will not harm their pups."

"Children," I said.

"Whatever," he said.

"Why?" said a young and angry wolf.

"Because we will never kill them all," said the elder. "We have tried that for a long time and their numbers just grow more and more." He said that the only hope of wolf and werewolf survival was to befriend humans and change their minds. And the best way to do that was through the young.

The elder went with us, he and I discussing the changes in weredog and werewolf relations, but held back when I delivered her, in dog form, to the rescuers searching the wrong valley for her. I found her the next valley over, to the west. She, the elder, and I watched from afar as the girl's parents came running up and when one of the rescuers said, "Hey, where'd that dog go?"

Otto and I made it back to his cabin this morning just after sunrise. A chill fall breeze blew in off the lake. Leaves are starting to fall. Otto and I drank 2 pots of coffee while we talked about what we had seen last night, what each of us has seen over our years, and the changes washing over werefolk and the world.

I might be out of here tomorrow.

Otto Skorzeny Was a Werewolf

I am staying with a weredog named Otto. He is a schnauzer and makes a fine weinerschnitzel. His large cabin sits on a northern lake. Can't say where, exactly, OpSec. I am now sitting on his deck, drinking a chilly brew, watching the waves lap the dock and shore, watching the Wisconsin v. Oregon State football game on an iPad and thinking about maybe later getting a pole and seeing if I have enough range of motion back to make some casts. It is already chilly up here. But not as chilly as where I was. I have 2 blankets wrapped around me.

I will be here a few days. Waiting on the next stage of my transport and resting. My wounds are recovering with regular werespeed. Otto is a good host and great cook. If I stay here too long I'll be a fat dog in no time.

The name "Otto" makes me think of Otto Skorzeny, probably the most famous German commando of the Third Reich, in World War 2. And he was one of the most ferocious werewolves I have ever known. I know this because one of my roles in WW2 was tracking down and killing Skorzeny. This operation was a weredog op that was known about and operated entirely by weredogs all the way to the top of Allied Command. We failed to get him.

After the war Skorzeny managed to stay alive, caused trouble in Germany in the post-war years, got arrested then slipped out of Germany to Spain and moved to Ireland and all over. He was a bad wolf on the order of Carlos the Jackal (also a werewolf) in his later years. Worse than Carlos.

There is a pack of very active werewolves, the leaders of whom are descended from Skorzeny, who are very active in European politics and economics. We try to keep an eye on them.

Otto tells me there are some odd scents and rumors coming from the woods to our northwest. I asked him what exactly. He only shrugged, said he could not say for certain until he checked it out. I offered to go with him, assured him that I am healed enough for a short run in the woods, that my muscles could use the exercise at this point. He said "We'll see."

Now to find another beer and a rod and reel.

En Route

I will leave here shortly and be in movement for the next several days. I am heading back to KC, in spite of numerous and strenuous warnings. And I have been forbidden to see my family, Jack and all.

So, I am heading back to the land of BBQ, suburban angst and competitive parenting.

OK, it is truer to say that KC is the worldwide BBQ capital. Memphis and Texas always argue that point, but only because they know the truth.

And KC, within its numerous and various overly affluent and anxiety-ridden suburban enclaves must be one of the top international centers of competitive parenting, which is the new hot sport in which parents compete against one another through their kids in terms of grades, sports, hobbies, appearance, status and dog knows what else.

I am not entirely clear on yet how well organized this new sport is, if they have referees or a foundation of rules and plays. I have to remember to ask Caitlyn. Or maybe Warin, as he is currently playing the role of parent.

I have seen and heard of one-on-one ComPar matches, typically between mothers, that make the NFL (football) and UFC (mixed martial arts) seem like sing-alongs at the local nursing home. Too much money, time and desperation will do that to a mom. Or a dad, if he is one of the legion of unemployed casting about for something to give his life meaning.

My transport and escort are ready. Gotta go.

Dogs Can Shoot

     I'd heard rumors that some packs were training dogs, not weredogs, dogs, to operate firearms and with some proficiency. I guess those rumors were true. Although, that shep does not seem to be too thrilled about that revolver.

Book Review: The Last Werewolf

I am reading The Last Werewolf, and nearly done with it. It is entertaining and does some new and creative things with the whole werewolf tradition. But I have share my reactions and peeves.

Common Werefolk/Werewolf Bullshit

Werefolk cannot only shift during a full moon - Bullshit. We can shift anytime we want to, day or night, any day of the month, but should not hold in wereform for too long. And we should stay in human or canine phase for the duration, depending on which phase we are in, and where we are living. If not, problems can arise.

Werewolves are murdering monsters who have no control in the need to kill and eat their victims - Bullshit. Werewolves, some, like to indulge in that from time to time, but are no more out of control than weredogs are in terms of their diets or violence.

Werewolves carry the souls of their victims - This is something new and interesting that Glen Duncan, the author, does with this story. It is interesting. But just how would that work? Werefolk are biological organisms just like people and parakeets. This implies some manner of mysticism that is beyond silly.

Humans are a species of sheep upon which all werewolves feeds at their leisure - Total bullshit. Humans are the most lethal and dangers species in this or any other planet. Why else would we, weredogs and werewolves, hide our existence from people. Even we, weredogs, do not dare make ourselves known to people, even to our families. Humans as sheep? Yeah, right.

Vampires - Total fiction and silliness. Come on. Really? A species of humanoid-parasites that survives on consuming just blood? And shifts rom human form to a freaking bat, so that they can fly away? And burns up in the sun? Really? Puh-leeeeease. I've never understood this weird fiction and its allure for so many people. And why a bat, for fuck sake? Why not a cat? How much cooler would it be if vampires changed into flying cats and not a flying rodent? Now that would make sense, vampires as cats, and would lend allot to the whole werewolf-vampire antagonism. 

Sex with humans - Done all the time and not a problem, no need to kill and eat them, even for wolves, not necessarily. Only risk is too much attachment or exposure. Sex with humans has its unique pros and cons, as does sex with werefolk. Each have their prefs. I know a few men who would like to eat their ex-wives, but that is a different matter.

Werewolves can’t speak when in wereform = TOTAL, silly and ridiculous bullshit. Of course we can talk when in wereform. How else could we function and operate, have pack meetings, discuss BBQ and play in werebands? OK, do dogs and wolves cannot speak human language. But they are canines. Werefolk, in wereform, are not canines. We do speak in human languages, but also in ways that do not involve spoken language, ways that use scents and coat and body movement. But we most certainly can speak in wereform. Some of us have quite nice speaking and even signing voices, when in wereform. You have not heard Wagner or Metallica best until you have heard them played by a wereband.

Boilermaker's Union

The Boilermaker's Union, an international union which is headquartered in Kansas City, is in a lot of trouble lately and is run by a pack of werewolves. This pack has been known to us for some time. We have not moved against them because they have not been preying upon people, at least not with tooth and claw.

Boilermakers Union - Werewolves Out of Control

Wolves often, usually, do not know when to stop, when to restrain themselves and what lines not to cross. Wolves were central to many of the recent financial debacles that have plagued this country - the junk bonds fiascos of the 1980s, the recent subprime mortgage and corporate bailout fiasco, and most of the deregulation over the past 30 years that has allowed the foxes to take charge of the chicken coops. Derivatives are a particular werewolf favorite.

No matter how well they clean up and what clothes they wear and how charming the appear and how polished their dinner table etiquette, few werewolves can control their predatory nature, which strives to be expressed in one way or another.

Ancient Battle Site

I visited an ancient battle site when I was in Europe earlier this year. It is the site of an ancient battle between men and werewolves. Scientist have found the bones nearly 100 warriors and suspect the remains of 1,000. Werelore tells that there are the remains of thousands of human warriors in this place.

Here is a recent article:
2,000 Year Old Mass Grave


Scientists are trying to figure out why so many of the bones have teeth marks. That is because after the battle the werewolves feasted on their dead opponents.

Werelore claims that there were no weredogs present at this battle, that the chieftan did not trust nor want and weredogs involved and had banished us from his lands. Also, there were very much out-numbered, had no idea how many werewolf warriors they would be facing.

Werewolves are asking for help in masking the truth of this ancient battle site. We are discussing that request, which has numerous issues attached.

Dogs Smarter than LTs?

This will come as no surprise to some:

Military dogs have been shown to be smarter than junior officers?

Not all LTs (lieutenants) are that bad. But the rep is there, and has been for a loooong time.

Catching up on things, emails, etc.

Clach

I met a werewulf in Afghanistan who is commanding a company of paratroopers.

Clach was living in New Orleans when Katrina hit. He was a lobo solo, not a member of a pack, alone, living amongst people, wanting to take out his hatred on them as much as he could.

As the storm rolled in he stuck around. He was stalking a family, a mother and 2 daughters, who lived in his same house in the 9th Ward. He planned to kill and eat all 3 of them. Maybe let the youngest go. At the very least eat the mother. Something about her drew him to her. She was succulent.

A turn of events found him trapped in an attic with these 3, and their cat and dog, a small terrier. The water was so high that they could not get out without drowning. And there were no points of egress in the attic, no windows.

The women and girls did not give up. Nor the terrier, who made it very clear that he knew what Clach was and what he planned and the terrier was having none of it. "Don't even think about it! Don't even think about it!" the terrier kept barking. "I will tear you up!" The cat kept clear of him.

In a force born of desperation, with the water around their ankles in that attic, Clach kicked through the roofing, allowing them to escape onto the roof. It was still raining. Clach lifted all of them, including the terrier and cat, through the hole and onto the roof and to the crest, as high as they could get. And waited. For no one. They neither heard nor saw any boats or helicopters.

They saw a small boat, a shallow-draft fiber-glass shell, floating past nearby. Clach swam out to it and pulled it back, got them all in and away they went. They floated around that flooded city for hours until picked up by the Coast Guard.

When it was over the 3 women hugged and thanked him. The mother hung onto him much longer than necessary. The terrier even licked his face. The cat ignored him.

The experience changed him. Not just in regards to the woman and the girls, but in regards to everything, so much so that a year later he was in Iraq, surrounded by humans, taking and giving orders from and to humans.

Meeting him was troubling, for is Clach now a werewolf behaving like a weredog, or is he a weredog who was a werewolf. I have always been told, "Once a wolf, always a wolf." But I am not so sure anymore.

I Have Bee Detained

The day of my last post I was seized by waerwulfas and taken to a secret location and held and interrogated, at times simply tortured for the fun of it, until just last week. I am recuperating at a safe location.

I would be dead if not for very high up intervention on my behalf, by a very old werelder, and a squad of varans who arrived at the secret location demanding I be released to them.

I am certain that I have felt worse, I just cannot remember when. My body is one big bruise, covered in lacerations and avulsions of all sizes and depths. They are all tended to and dressed, and I am spending more time in weredog form that I normally would, for the recuperative benefits. Just yesterday I was able to get move around a bit. I feel a little less like shit. Dionna says that I look good, in a rugged, been-to-hell-and-back sort of way.

Yes, Dionna. After all my time spent looking for her, she found me. I told her that if I had known that all I had to do to make her appear was get seized and brutalized by waerwulfas for 2 1/2 months that I would have tried that a long time ago and saved myself some trouble. She didn't laugh.

Dionna brought some startling news concerning a werwolf I met earlier this year, during my recent travels, named Clach.

I never did get back with Jack and Sherry and the boys. Caitlyn keeps me posted on how they are. She says that since my departure the pack has been keeping an eye on them, her especially since she is going to school with them. There has been no wolf or neo signs or scent around the house since I left. That means that they are safer without me around.

I plan to return to KC as soon as I can. Loose ends to tie up. I need to decide my next move, if I will stay in KC or move on.

God/Dog Wisdom

This is ironic and funny in so many ways.

Just got back. Posts, reports and updates to come.

Pack Declining

I am told that my pack is declining. We are losing members faster than normal. I am catching up on communications, emails and texts and various other types of commo, most of which are from my pack and friends in KC. Most of this commo is troubling.

We just lost a dog from our pack, an old friend of mine, whose family, an elderly couple, with whom he had been with for many years, had committed suicide.

They were both in their late 80s. She had Alzheimer's. He was depleted physically, emotionally and financially. They left a touching letter for their adult children, which my friend, the dog, was first to read. The letter said that suicide was the only option of dignity left to them, that life had become a daily, ongoing house of horrors for them. I am told that my friend is taking this very hard.

Suicide is the ultimate hard choice. Some say it is very selfish. I cannot say, having never been in such a situation and since I am not human. Werefolk do not commit suicide. But then we do not suffer the same emotional blessings and curses, the ups and downs, as do humans.

Everywhere I go I smell and sense levels of human desperation the likes of which I have not smelled since the late days of World War 1. I do not know what to expect when I return to the United States.

So, my friend will be gone when I get back. We have fought many a foe together. I will have to tell him "Goodbye" the next time I see him. I wish him well.

Warin and Caitlyn, I need to talk to you.

Near Paris

I am in France, in a town near Paris, resting and recouping, doing laundry, reports and logs, and getting my fill of wine and cheese. Dog help me, I love cheese.

After Turkey I need to see some werefolk, dogs and wolves, in Hungary. While there I was recruited into a search for a lost 7-year-old girl in the Bukki Forest. The wlves wanted no part of it but were talked into it. When our group arrived at the Search HQ it was morning of Day 3. My
Hungarian was rusty but sufficient.

I knew right away that the search teams were going about it wrong. They had many dogs, several of which had wonderful scents and barks, and people. But they were searching on patterns that made sense for an adult, not a child. I know children, have lived with many.

I split off, shifted to dog form and started my own patterns. It was middle afternoon when I found her scent. I had no radio, or any means to contact the search HQ, and could not lose the scent, so I followed it.

I found her before dark. She was curled up in the hollow of a dead tree, shivering. I did not bark, but instead whined to get her attention. She was half awake, but awoke, looked at me ad whimpered in fear. I had thought that possible and was ready. I gave my best "adorable doggy" look. Finally, she uncoiled and approached me. I crawled over to her, licked her hands and then her face, giving friendly whines and scent the whole time. Finally, she threw her arms around me in a big hug and sobbed.

So, I had found her. Now I had to get her back. First I had to get some water into her. She was very dehydrated. I led her to a stream nearby and we both drank our fill. Then we found a comfy spot next to the stream, where we heard the water running all night, but not so loud that it masked the surroundings so that I could not hear anything approach, and I wrapped around her and we slept.

During the night I shifted to human. I did so because I knew I had to carry her out and could not do so in dog form, and certainly not in wereform. When she awoke the next morning she was at first startled, but I reassured her that my dog had found her, and I had found them, and he went for help, and I would get her home. She relaxed quickly. However, on some level she probably knew, or felt, who I am.

I carried her on my back threw the woods, and on my shoulders threw fields and open areas. We talked as we walked. She had been on picnic with her family, had followed a cousin too far into the woods, and the rest you can figure out.

She also told me that she had hidden from scary wolves and one-eyed monsters on her first lost night. I was at first perplexed, but then realized than she had seen and hidden from search dogs and search teams with head-lamps and could have been rescued that first night had she not thought them wolves and monsters.

We sauntered into the search center just after noon, she on my shoulders and both of us signing a song she had taught me. It took a few moments for people to move as they were stunned.

As I was leaving, tossing my ruck into a truck that was going to take me to Eger, where I would catch a train to Budapest, the girl ran up to me and hugged me and said, "Thank you, nice doggy." A Hungarian Army sergeant gave me a odd look. I just shrugged and smiled. "Kids," I said.

At the search HQ we had learned that 2 searchers were missing. On the drive to Eger, in the back of the truck with most of the dogs and wolves I had arrived with, two of the wolves volunteered how tasty the missing searcher had been.  This sparked a heated argument. They all swore it was only the one and not both the missing men. So, it was possible they might still find the second guy. Sometimes old habits die hard.

When I leave here I need to make my way to Aarhus, Denmark. But I need to get back to my pack soon, and to my family. Soon.

Ruining Humans

I just left Istanbul, was there for just over a week. I was there for a large assembly of werefolk, dogs and wolves. We discussed the current world situations, many topics which we have been talking and worrying over for many years, some for several centuries. Paramount is the ruination of the human race.

These are some of the things we werefolk talk about that are ruining the human race: over-abundance, multi-tasking, cubicles, fanciful expectations, over-population, hoarding, numerous others.

These are things that kept the human race alive for over 100,000 years, and their predecessors long before that, and many of them tie back to greed.

Greed is derived from the survival instinct, it kept humans alive throughout the existence of the race, through the hard times when humans nearly went extinct. It drives one to do what is necessary to survive. 

At one point about 50,000 years ago there were only about 12,000 humans on the entire planet. Humans were that close to extinction. It was the same for most other species. Weredogs and werewolves also came damn close to disappearing, as did most large mammals.

But what kept humans alive now makes them their own worst enemies. Greed in this modern world, in this day of over-abundance and over-consumption, has led to capitalism gone amok, to people in positions of great power who have no morals other than the acquisition of more wealth and power. In the Dark Ages this led to survival of kingdoms and the birth of nations. Today it is leading to corruption and implosion.

There are now over 7 billion people on this planet. That number rises exponentially every day. No one knows if that is too many, or how that many people are going to be fed and provided for.

There is no werefolk census, but best guestimates are that there are just over 1 million weredogs globally, and fewer than 250,000 werewolves. Those are fairly small populations in the face of the issues facing us and all species.

Mankind has the capacity to turn things around, create systems and networks that feed and free everyone. Mankind also has the capacity to destroy it all, everything, everyone, everywhere. There are few weredogs who have steadfast faith either way. We simply do not know.

No one has yet any clues as to how many neos there are.

I listened to a drunk werewolf the other night babble on about how possibly the neos are the answer to this all, how their genetic drive to eliminate other humans could rid us of the homo sapien plague. Many werewolves howled in agreement, and more than a few weredogs too.

I will be in Europe for at least a few weeks. I have messages and information to deliver to packs in Europe rom Afghanistan, Turkmenistan and Azerbaijan, where I met with numerous werepacks, dogs and wolves.