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.