A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn

Dog Vs Werewolf | January 10, 2010

“His hideous howl a dirge of death!” – tagline for The Wolfman, (1941).

I’ve spoken about how werewolves can’t really be your regular pet owners before, you know with big-ish animals, like cats and dogs, those type of pets because despite our very regular, daytime appearance, underneath it all, the animals scent the animal in us.It’s freaky really.

The other night recently, I was walking through the neighbourhood and what happens? But I see this little dog in the middle of the road, just wandering around.

Not leashed, and nobody else is around in the street. Presumably the dog came from one of the houses on the street I was walking down. Whatever, I was just walking by, minding my business, letting the dog do its business, whatever that was in the middle of the road. When it stands dead still and spots me.

So I stopped, stood still and wondered what it was going to do? Was it going to charge me, or yap me to death with little dog barking? Show me it wasn’t afraid of me, even though we’d never met before and I wasn’t doing anything threatening.

It decided to try and bark me to death. Well more correctly, to scare me away, which can mean only one thing. That it sensed the werewolf in me, a predator bigger and more bad ass than itself, entering its territory. You see, werewolf scent is not canine smelling, there’s an underlining scent of lupine mixed with the pheromones of my human skin.

Clearly the dog had decided it owned the road, even if I was crossing it.

So it starts going crazy at me, barking it’s little head off. At first I laughed, thinking it was amusing, because to anyone else it’d just look like the dog was going nuts, for no reason. But then it got annoying when I tried to continue to the other side of the road, and it kept following me and barking at me.

The inner bitch as well as the werewolf in me, raised its head. The dog needed to learn some respect since I wasn’t technically doing anything other than passing through it’s territory with no intent other than to go past the little yappy thing on my merry way.

So I stared down at the dog, hard, and unflinching. Fuck with the werewolf be prepared to get spanked is my motto. So I started growling back at it. Too quietly at first, but then louder. Which in return made the dog get louder but at the same time, run down the street away from me. Giving me a chance to make it to the other side of the sidewalk.

Yeah, yeah, who’s your daddy now bitch?

I kept growling and kept my eye on it as I walked on and noted when it stopped outside the driveway to a house. Obviously it’s home. I was just about to snarl at the little fucker when a local kid on his bike rocks up and says “Is that your dog?”

I stopped growling, looked at the kid, wondering if he’d heard me, and why the fuck he was out so late and wondered if he thought i had torrets and said “Not mine, doesn’t even like me” and walked off on both the kid and the dog.

Obviously there was really no threat, to either the little dog or to me in return. But as werewolves we are taught to not back down, it is not our way and it is most certainly not in our nature.

Werewolves are a proud sort and our image doesn’t depend on being tough, our reputation does. There is some part of all us werewolves that exists, even in us beta wolves, that says, never say die, don’t back down, and get in there first, if you have cause to.

I may live the life of a human-animal hybrid, but that does not mean I am soft or can in fact, ignore the part of me that adds up to the whole me. I must acknowledge it with more than knowledge that it is there. I must let it out of the leash too, once in awhile.

We’re all told this, us werewolves. To acknowledge the aggression, to control it so it doesn’t control us. For if we don’t we risk doing far worse, when a lunar week is upon us and the ability to judge and juggle control tests our limits.

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