Sherry thought I got into a dog fight. Jack thought I got hit by a car. Rick and Sven cleaned my wounds. And Flecka. She licked me smooth, nearly.
Everyone is away, the boys are camp, Sherry at work, Jack out of town, and Braden in Iraq. So, I have the place to myself, to check e-mails, cry about investments, cruise other blogs, check in on other weredogs, and post here. Sherry made me a nice little nest of old blankets downstairs, in one corner, near the kitchen, and water bowl. One of the blankets is one of Jack's old wool Army blankets. That and worn out camouflage poncho liner are two of his most cherished possessions. It is so comfy that I struggled to drag myself up and around today. But, I have a lot to catch-up on.
Flecka has ben worrying over me. She keeps sniffing me front and back. I tell her I am OK. She says, I believe you. When do we eat?
Jack's been drinking. Not much, so far, just enough to help him sleep nights. On walks he and Sherry barely talk at all lately. There is a lot of tension between them. And it finds its way into the leash. Sometimes I want to change so I can tell him, "Dude, lighten up on the leash, will ya? Damn. I mean, I know I am high strung and like to fight other dogs. But, give me a break."
Yes, as a dog, I like to fight other dogs. Please, don't ask me to explain it. I can't. I don't like to fight in human form. Which is, I guess, kind of odd. All that I can offer is that I am three individuals - dog, man, and weredog, my true form. Each has its own unique personality.
I have noticed the same, over my years, in humans. Jack is the same guy wherever he is. But, I have known lots of guys who were a different guy at work than they were at home. I once dated a teacher who was a tight-assed puritan at school. But with me she was more of a beast than I am. And I pride myself on my beastliness.
I should be able to head out in the next couple nights, get back on patrol. We'll see what happens.
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