We're still getting over food coma around here. Thanksgiving was a
doozy this year. Jack and Sherry and the boys went to 3 different TG
dinners. We dogs stayed home and watched movies. I did not get on the
computer. Not in the mood. Bella is dying of lymphoma, and something
is up with Flecka. Her breathing is to labored. She is overweight. I
spent most of the day and evening sniffing and trying to make them
comfortable. Jack, Sherry and the boys got home late, waddled to bed.
I went out to a pack meeting. Warin and Taffy gave werewolf reports.
But, nothing much going on lately.
Come Friday morning we had enough left-overs around here to feed an
army of drought-stricken dingos. That fridge was barely able to close
for 2 days. There was turkey, ham and boiled fish; sweet potatoes,
mashed potatoes and stuffing; bread, biscuits and rolls; cheese grits,
macaroni and cheesy corn. I don't know how, but as of yesterday it
was mostly gone. I will check here in a bit. If there is any of that
turkey left, I may just have to eat it. No one would miss it, would
assume some else ate it. Of course, that is dagnerous logic, in my
position.
I went with Jack on Wednesday to go pick up his Uncle Luther, his
father's (RIP) only brother. Luther served in Korea, '52 to '53.
Jack feels a connection with the old boy, knows the buttons to push to
get Luther talking about younger days in the Army. Luther has been
slipping this past year. But Jack can always find a way to bring him
back around, asking him questions about old Army buddies. For some
time, Luther has been able to remember Army buddies from 50 years ago,
but not business partners from 20 years ago, or even his wife, who
died 10 years ago.
Until now. Luther did not remember Jack, or any of the Army stories
or names of old buddies that Jack tried to prod him with. We did not
take him back to his nursing home until Friday. 2 nights and 3 days he
was with us. The entire time he just sat on the leather couch and
faked it. He's pretty good at faking it, looking at people when they
talk to him, smiling and nodding, like he understands. But. He
doesn't. Jack gave up trying to get him to recognize himself or any
of the kids. Every one in a while he would come in and sit with
Luther, place a hand on his arm, and talk to him. He was really just
talking to himself. I got up on the couch and laid my head on his
leg, lightly, ever so lightly. Even though we are not supposed to get
up on the furniture, no one told me to get down.
Luther did not know me either. But he must have called me a dozen
different names - Butch, Flag, Ringo . . . even Fluffy. I think he
was going through every down he had known and been attached to in his
life. I hope this doesn't cause me to fall to some sort of
personality disorder.
Bella, Flecka and I are just now getting over all the left-overs we
ate. I am still dehydrated. All 3 of us have been draining our water
dish, and drinking from the toilets, regularly. It drives Sherry
nuts. I do not understand why people, mostly women, are so down on
dogs drinking from the toilet. It's not like you have to drink from
the toilet. So what we get a little hair on the bowl. As long as it
is kept clean and flushed, the toilet is a fantastic source of fresh
water. Flecka, in particular, drinks a lot. She is a big dog. She
gets thirsty in the middle of the night, and she has 2 bad legs. And
half the time the water bowl in empty anyway. Sometimes when Sherry
is ranting about us drinking from the toilet, I want to change to
wereform, just for effect, and say, "What the hell's your problem?"
Friday night didn't feel right. Jack whipped up a dinner of left-
overs. Sherry and the boys went to see some luminary display at the
arboretum. I kept getting a bad feeling. At first I thought it was
the green been casserole. But, my hackles kept raising. Green beans
don't raise hackles, not usually. Jack let me out about 7pm. I
slipped out of the yard and did a quick security sweep of the
neighborhood. Only took about 15 minutes. I checked the S&W .45 I
keep stashed on the side of the house. It was good, sealed in its zip-
lock bag. Hey, sometimes tooth and claw need a little help.
Sherry and the boys came home, all laughter and stories. Rick had
caught the eye of a cute girl. Sven ran into a football buddy. Sherry
bought some ornaments. After dinner they put in a movie. Time for us
3 dogs to lay amongst their feet. Jack said for someone to go out for
wood. The wood pile is in the backyard. As soon as Sven went out the
door, alone, I felt a jolt go through my body. I was at the door,
barking like a rabid dog. Jack got up, cursing me and all dogs, for
always having to go and in and out and in.... I ignored him, shot
down the deck stairs, and emerged onto the frozen grass with lips
back, teeth out, and a snarl in my throat. "Hey, Chester," said Sven,
grabbing wood with one hand onto a growing pile held in the other. I
ignored him too. There was something close that made my hackles scream.
Wolf.
The scent was there, unmistakable. I cut loose in canine: "You dare
to come to my house? Threaten my family? Bring it on! Right now!
Here! Come on! Werescum! Show yourselves! Bring it!" I was still
in dog form, and, of course, speaking canine. So, to Sven it sounded
like barking. "Jeez, Chester," he said. "Take it easy. What got
into you?" I was combat aware. I knew exactly where Sven was, the
deck, the fence, and Rooster, who was hiding under the potter's bench
on the porch. I could even smell his fear. But, more than any of that,
I was aware of the wolf presence backing away.
Back inside everyone was blissfully warm and content. They watched
their movie an ate popcorn. I slipped downstairs and let Rooster in.
He was shivering with cold and fright. "What the hell was that
thing?" he said.
"A werewolf," I said.
"A what?" he said.
I explained. He said he had heard of werwolves, but never believed
the stories. I told him not to worry, to just find a warm place for
the night and sleep.
"Food?" he said.
I forgot to bring him some scraps. "Listen," I said. "We got some
great oyster dressing that Jack's Aunt Mellie made. I'll bring some
down after everyone's asleep."
"What's an oyster."
I assured him he would like it.
I drove with Jack to take Luther home the next day, Friday. I rode
with my head on Luther's legs. Jack talked. Luther said nothing, but
stroked my head the entire way. I couldn't go into the nursing home.
Jack was a long time coming out. I was starting to get real cold. When
he did emerge, he was unable to talk. His breathing was heavy with
emotion. I rode with my head on his leg too. I know that my head on
his lap gives more comfort than my ear in the bar. Not sure why that
is. Speaking of which, I haven't had beers with Jack in some time.
The big event on Saturday was the KU vs MU football game. KU won.
Great game. Jack and the boys went ballistic, screaming and yelling
and howling. I got caught up in the howling and started cutting loose
too. Sherry came downstairs and told us all to shut the hell up. I
did another security sweep last night, early, around our house and the
houses next door. Nothing. But, it was early.
Snow on the ground when we dogs got Jack up this morning at 6am. He
let us out and I did a quick sweep around the house. Found tracks.
Wolf tracks, on three sides of the house. Rooster was waiting on the
west side, next to a set. "This ain't good," he said.
"I know," I said.
"What are we going to do?" said Rooster.
I shook my head. "You ever thought about becoming a weredog?"
Chester
chester.weredog@gmail.com
