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.