Blood Isn't Always Thicker Than Water

“Dammit,” I muttered icily, still frozen to the spot. The brown, flickering and intelligent eyes of the wolfy creature standing fifteen feet from me still hadn’t blinked. And I had. The thing’s coat looked unlike anything any normal wolf would have. But that’s what led me to figure out that this was a werewolf. That and the eyes.

But back to the coat. The entire lengths of both front legs were white, as were the neck and shoulders. It faded to a tan color on the back, but the stomach was still white. The bottom half of the back legs were also white. The tail was white, only at the tip. The tan at the base was interrupted by a gray and black and very thin stripe. The shoulders were peppered with the same gray-black color. The head was also tan, but around the whiskers I could see a bit of light gray. Another gray-black stripe was running down the center of its slender forehead. The triangular ears had a blackish fringe and the left had a merle gray quality to it. How many other wolves look anything remotely like that?

“Okay, buddy,” I whispered, but the wolf could definitely hear me. “I’ll tell you what. How about I get my bag and skidaddle? Sound good? I’ll never bother you again. Now, how about you turn into your human form so I won’t feel extremely scared as I go by?”

It tipped its head to the side.

I groaned. “You do speak English, right?”

The head still wasn’t upright.

“French? Français?” I think I just totally failed with using a French accent. “Español?” I’m so glad I’m American. I’d die if I had to use a different accent.

The wolf just made a pouty face—or so it seemed—and righted its head. Then it barked.

“No!” I hissed. “No speaky ‘bark-bark’. Speaky ‘talk-talk’!” That probably didn’t help.

It barked again.

“Ah-hah! Shut up!” I wanted to run over there and close its barkative snout. Couldn’t it see I didn’t speak wolf, or want it calling all its little buddies?

Then, I heard the footsteps. Another was coming.

“Aw, look what you’ve done,” I complained to the wolf. “Now you’ve gone and called your friend who I’m sure isn’t nearly as nice as you and will gladly eat me, no second thoughts.” I gave it a stern glare. “And to think that I trusted you…” I fell silent as the head of the second werewolf showed up.

And I promptly frowned. “You don’t look like a werewolf,” I informed the newcomer. It was happy-looking and shorter than my friend Non-Buddy over there, and the two looked totally different. This new one had eyes just as dark, but the rest of him/her had black and white splotches. Non-Buddy had short maybe inch-long to inch and a half-long fur, while New Guy here had maybe two to three inch-long fur. And New Guy’s snout was shorter. Both had black noses.

Then, a weirdly sensible thought struck me. “So…you two aren’t werewolves?”

A globule of drool left New Guy’s mouth and hit the floor. That settled it.

“No, you’re not,” I proclaimed. “You are two highly normal dogs. Yes!” I could have jumped up and down on the spot. “Werewolves don’t exist!” I didn’t have proof, but in that instant I was fairly sure. “Now, what to name you, what to name—”

New Guy bolted toward me.

“Oh, pooper scooper,” I managed to blurt out before the massive bulk of fur, muscle and bones hit me. New Guy wasn’t that big, but when he jumped on you like that, he seemed much heavier. And, yes, I had discovered that he was a dude. Not that hard to figure out.

“Aw, ew!” I moaned. New Guy was, uh, giving me a “bath”. “I know you’re gay. You can stop now.”

New Guy seemed to realize I wasn’t totally enjoying his show of affection and backed off. But then, with me on the floor attempting to recover from his surprise attack, New Guy lay down next to me and put his head on my lap.

I blinked. Hmm. Yeah, definitely not a werewolf. I looked up at Non-Buddy. “You gonna jump me, too?”

Non-Buddy finally blinked. Then…let’s see…he made his way over to me, too. Just out of arm’s reach, he stopped.

“What happened to you, boy?” I asked rhetorically—dogs can’t answer questions—and studied the scars I could see on his nose, face, ears—there was a chunk missing from the right one—and back. “Someone who owned you not too nice?”

He just stared at me.

“Well, at least I’m not alone,” I said, and started toying around with New Guy’s ears. Oh yeah! I was going to name them.

After a couple minutes of thinking, I decided to name New Guy after some TV character. I almost chose Brüno, but then decided not to. Darcy? No. Harry? Naw. Edward? Ack, no. Jacob? No, makes me think of werewolves. Nemo? Uh-uh. Hercules? Nope. Shrek? Nada.

Then, I had a stroke of brilliance.

“Monty!” I cried, jolting the dog a bit. “Sorry,” I apologized quickly. “I’m calling you Monty, okay?”

He smiled up at me. Or it looked like he was smiling. He was panting and his mouth was open wide. “Okay…” I turned my gaze over to Non-Buddy. Come over with a sudden desire to pat him, I scooted a bit closer.

He immediately backed away.

I sighed. I guess this was one of those times when you have to let the dog come to you, not you to the dog. “I’m still naming you,” I warned him.

His intelligent brown eyes bore into mine.

“Max? No, too common. Brady? No, you’re too skinny. Tom Brady’s this buff guy. I think. Um, how about some…book character names? I don’t know many, so bear with me. Artemis? No. Holly? Oops, that’s a girl. Harry? Ron? Fred? I’m not naming you George. Draco? Goyle?” I sighed. “Okay, no more Harry Potter names. Um, Percy? Grover? Torak? Eragon? Roran? Abhorsen?” How on Earth did I know that one? “Horace? Jasper? Emmett? No, you can’t be a vampire too. But Carlisle might suit you… No. Um, I’m running low here, Bud. But you can’t help me out. You’re a dog. Ugh. Uh, Cat in the Hat? No, what am I thinking? Wendy? John? Michael? Tootles? Slightly? Uh…um… Not Peter… Eric? Triton? Prince Charming? Philippe? Marlin? Aladdin? Beast?” My brain felt like a squeezed and dried out sponge. “What are some dog books? Oh, who am I kidding? What are some dog movies? Air-Bud?” I turned my gaze from where it had drifted—the floor—back to the dog in question. “Oh my goodness…” I took in Non-Buddy’s huge paws and intelligent eyes, the un-domestic-dog-like muscularity, and the scars. He seemed to notice my sudden scrutiny and licked his overlong chops, exposing crazily huge incisors. No, I didn’t almost scream, “Vampire dog!” That would’ve been funny… I suddenly knew what Non-Buddy was. “You’re half wolf… Or part wolf, at least. In that case, I have the perfect name for you.”

He sat down, still just out of arm’s reach.

“You’re Balto,” I told him.

He just stared at me. He was infuriating.

“Are you ever going to let me touch you?”

He blinked.

“Never mind.”