Dog Warden Lima Ohio Novels & Stories

“Caught this fucker out behind the Pamida. Bill Crenshaw’s wife said she’d seen it up round the high school last couple days with a mangy look. Sonofabitch must’ve been rabid and gone after poor ole Pete.” “We should have Doc compare the teeth and claws to the marks on the body,” I said. Sheriff West had arrived by that point. He looked like the last thing he wanted was to drag this out any further, but he hated loose ends as much as I did. “Do it,” he said. “But as far as I’m concerned, this matter is closed. Washington County raided a farm on the other side of the county line where they’d been breeding these for guard dogs. Looks like a few escaped and picked up rabies along the way here.

She was trying to learn about being the Luna of the Red Moon Pack, trying to figure out how to navigate being my guardian wolf, and adjusting to being a mate. The process of bonding with my guardian wolves had been interesting. Although each red wolf had 10 guardian wolves, I had six so far. Four more were still yet to arrive at the compound, although two were on their way. The guardian wolves were so fascinating. Four of my guardian wolves I had some interaction with before coming to the compound. I obviously knew my sister. One of my guardian wolves was Adam, a warrior from the Silver Springs Pack. Although I didn’t have a lot of interactions with him while at the Silver Springs Pack, Ivy

******** The darkness spread further when Liam, brimming with anger and control, stamped across the heavy woods at the head of his pack of warriors. "When we get there," he yelled, "leave no one standing. I want the White Fang pack wiped out." The men eyed each other warily, but followed him in silence. For one thing, Liam had a very short fuse, and no one argued over his orders. He lifted a hand as they approached the pack house and the group froze where they stood, ceasing their noise entirely. He watched the house nervously, his eyes sharp as he examined it. Something was off. "Where are the guards?" he growled, the menace low.

If you lived here, you wanted the world to know you were afraid of something. I lifted the binoculars and swept the boundary. Four-man patrol on the quarter hour, all in matching tan Carhartts, black softshell vests, no logos. Two on foot, two with dogs. One of the dogs was a purebred Malinois, the kind the DOD started breeding after the last batch of German Shepherds aged out. The other was…something else. Not a wolf, not exactly, but the kind of animal you’d get if a werewolf spent ten years as a Navy SEAL and then decided to become a dog for tax reasons.

I stood in the doorway and told her about the family. She listened. When I finished she said: "The dog." "Archer," I said. "Golden retriever. Four years old. Three tricks." She looked at the building plans. "When they're settled," she said, "I want to meet them properly. Not intake. Properly." "Yes," I said. "They'll want to meet you too." She went back to the building plans. I went back to the pack business that was waiting. Petra and Marcus and Lila were in the guest housing by three in the afternoon. Lila, I was told by the community housing coordinator, had immediately identified the best window in the unit for watching the pack land and had claimed it.

Marcus said slowly, "used for outside deliveries. Runs along the east perimeter, past the old loading dock. It's not manned overnight because nobody's supposed to need it during lockdown. If we move now, before Griggs finishes reassigning posts, there's a window." "How small a window?" Samuel asked. "Small enough that I need an answer in the next ten seconds, not a debate." Samuel looked at Ryan, and something unspoken passed between them, an understanding that whatever history existed between warden and prisoner, whatever suspicion or resentment or fear, none of it mattered anymore against the same enemy standing on both their necks. "Do it," Ryan said.

We’ve helped over three hundred wolves rebuild from nothing. I know what rejection does to a person. It did it to me. And I know you can survive it. Because I did. I was at my desk, sorting intake files for the week, when Lena knocked and came in without waiting for an answer—like she usually does. “There’s a wolf outside,” she said. “He’s been at the gate twenty minutes. Not aggressive, but he isn’t leaving.” I kept my eyes on the file. “Pack wolf or rogue?” “Pack,” she said. “Darkwood.”

But Elder Theodore insisted it was important, and I gave in. We decided to meet at a family-style diner downtown, and just a few minutes after we settled in, Mercedes walked in. I was seated in a more secluded area, so she didn’t see me, then she walked over to Jenkins. I knew her pretty well. She was a werewolf, and worked as a state-appointed parole officer. This helped her find broken werewolves who ended up in human jail, she helped them rebuild. At first I didn’t want to pry. I tried to mind my own damn business. But then I heard it.

I knew she was trying to keep my spirits up, but the high-stepping was drawing eyes we didn't need. The air in the lobby was thick with the scent of industrial bleach and old floor wax. It crawled up my nose, making my throat feel tight. Every hushed conversation between nurses felt like a secret being kept from me. I buried my hand in the thick fur at Sombra's neck, needing the heat of her body to stop my own hands from shaking. A security guard stepped out from behind a high desk, his brow furrowing as he looked at my dog. "Hold on. No pets in the ward."

The man was built like a brick wall, dressed in cargo pants and a tight black t-shirt, his arms a canvas of scars and faded tattoos. He nodded at whatever Damien said, his eyes flicking to us with a quick, assessing glance that held no warmth. This was not a man who cooed over puppies. Mr Vance came to my side, his expression neutral. "The best protection dogs in the city are trained here, Mrs Montrel. It's a legitimate facility." "Not meant for a five-year-old boy," I murmured, unable to hide my dismay. Mr Vance didn't reply. We were led inside and shown the line of available dogs. I felt Leo's hand tighten in mine as he stared, wide-eyed with fear.