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Here is another short story which was written when I was travelling the country competing in Working Trials and,at the same time, learning how to write. It was first published in Dog Training Weekly 1988.

WERE DOG

NOTE

Most people have heard stories and legends of were wolves -- men who could change themselves into wolves and back again. But why Were WOLVES? Why not were-bears? Or were-wild cats?

Very often there is some reason behind old stories. For example, stories of dragons may be based on some early and misunderstood discoveries of dinosaur fossils. Could the reason behind the stories of were wolves perhaps be connected with the fact that the wolf is a wild dog -- and throughout the ages there has always been a special affinity and relationship between dog and man? Be that as it may, here is a story about a Were-DOG.

The story takes place in a part of the country I know well -- the City of York and the North Yorkshire Moors just north of Pickering (and more or less due west of the Flask Inn -- which was a well-known venue for Working Trials).

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Edward Batey had had a highly successful career - Fleet Street reporter, investigative journalist and finally popular novelist. But whenever someone congratulated him on his novels he always remembered the one story he could NOT write.

It had happened a few years ago. He had been taking his wife Jane and his twelve-year-old daughter Sally to spend Christmas with his parents in Yorkshire. It was his first visit home for a few years. He was nearly there. Jane peered through the window into the gathering darkness. She was wondering if Edward was on the right road.

Edward himself was quite sure, but to please his wife he stopped and asked directions from a man who was standing in the garden of a cottage with a collie dog. Edward found he was quite right. His parents' cottage was just a mile down the road, but all the time he was listening Edward was struck by the man's strange appearance. Strange? No it was not really strange, but there was something ... something he could not explain even to himself. Afterwards he could not have told you what the man was wearing, but he had an unforgettable impression of long hair, a beard and deep, penetrating, dark brown eyes. No. "Penetrating" was not the right word either. Edward felt exasperated. Here he was an up and coming Fleet Street reporter and he could not even describe this countryman properly.

Suddenly he heard his wife speaking sharply.

"Sally get back into the car AT ONCE."

He realised that Sally had opened the back door and had slipped out quietly. She was standing looking at the dog. It was a black and white collie type. It stood and looked at her thoughtfully. Then it slowly wagged its tail. Sally held out her hand to it. The dog gave a cautious sniff. Then suddenly Sally was patting the dog and the dog was leaping and wagging all over her. They were friends.

"Sally. I told you. Into the car at once," snapped her mother.

Sally did so reluctantly.

"There's no harm done," said the man abruptly. He called his dog and turned and strode up the garden path.

"What a peculiar man," said Jane.

"Not peculiar. Just untidy," said Edward. But he did not really believe it.

"Shaggy is the word," said Sally from the back.

They all became silent. But Edward could not forget the incident. There HAD been something strange about the man. But what? He had one of his 'feelings' about it. Oh forget it. He was on holiday. But he was always like this at the beginning of a holiday. He just could not unwind, could not switch off. Even on holiday he could not stop looking for a story -- and here some instinct or sixth sense told him that there was a story about the man and the dog.

He drove on and soon reached his parents' home. In a short time they were all sitting down to the meal which his mother had prepared for them.

In the next few days they all settled down to the business of enjoying their holiday. To Edward's delight it turned out to be a great success.

Both her parents had always worried about Sally. She was such a quiet little thing. She did not make friends easily. She was very good at her schoolwork, but apart from that and reading she had no real interests. She hated parties and discos and had no interest in sports and games at all. The only thing she showed any interest in was dogs. She sometimes went with a girl from school to a dog training class and sat and watched, but Jane did not think much of this. She told her daughter that she should be learning how to get on with people, not dogs.

But in Yorkshire Sally really seemed to come to life. Her grandparents had a little Cavalier King Charles spaniel called ROCKY. For Sally that really did get the holiday off to a good start! Even better, her grandfather took Sally, ROCKY and Edward for long walks through the surrounding countryside.

The cottage was on the edge of a forest just north of Pickering. It was not far from the steam railway which runs from Pickering to Grosmont -- the Moors Railway. Sally had a choice of forest or moorland walks!

The weather stayed fine, sunny but frosty. Sally loved every minute of it. She liked going out in the mornings and seeing the frost lying white on the branches of the trees and then walk along the forest rides and throw pine cones for ROCKY to fetch. She also enjoyed, in a different way, climbing the moorland tracks and looking down on the railway. And all the time ROCKY trotted on in front -- his tail waving happily.

And then something happened which absolutely delighted both of Sally's parents. Sally had a cousin Alison who lived in Scarborough where her parents had a small hotel. She had a litter brother of ROCKY'S. Alison's dog was her main interest in life. She had trained it herself and had competed in Obedience Shows. Now she was starting to do Working Trials.

Alison came over to see her grandparents one-day and brought her dog -- of course! Alison was never strange or shy when meeting new people. She just talked about dogs. This worked admirably with the quiet, shy Sally. Soon they were talking quite easily together. Alison even got Sally doing some heelwork with ROCKY.

Sally and Alison were kindred spirits. So the holiday was a success as far as Sally was concerned, but what about her mother?

Sally's London bred mother did not like walking, but she too enjoyed the holiday. They were well placed for excursions further afield in the car -- and that was what Jane enjoyed. They went to Scarborough and walked along the seafront and went to a pantomine in the evening. They went to Whitby and walked round the harbour. They toured the Herriot country. But best of all they went to York several times.

They would arrive just before lunchtime and have roast chicken or turkey in Betty's famous restaurant. (Sally was later to say, "We had LOTS of Christmas dinners.) Then they just wandered up and down the medieval streets in the old, historic part of York and looked at the shops and the Christmas decorations. There was something very special about York just before Christmas, something almost Dickensian, almost like being part of a Christmas card.

Once they attended a carol concert in the cobbled Victorian street of the Castle Museum.

And even in York ROCKY got his run -- along the footpaths alongside the River Ouse.

Edward was pleased that his wife and daughter were enjoying their holiday. But he still could not get the strange man and his dog out of his mind. He had a feeling that his mother knew more about the family up the road than she was prepared to tell. He tried asking her about them, but without success.

"Nowt to tell," said his mother firmly. "They are a quiet family. They keep themselves to themselves. They don't bother us and we don't bother them."

Edward persisted. His mother did actually tell him that the family had a number of dogs. These dogs had been very useful on a number of occasions. They had found the odd holidaymaker lost in the forest. They had even helped the Police to find hikers in trouble on the Moors. She also told him that the man he had spoken to was probably "the one they call Merwyn."

Then Edward's mother obviously felt that she had said more than enough.

"You haven't changed a bit," she said. "Always poking your nose into things which don't concern you."

But apart from this all went well until one day near the end of the holiday. Rain fell steadily and relentlessly all day. It was the kind of day which, as Sally put it, "Makes you think of Noah."

Sally wanted to go out regardless. She protested that she would be all right in her wellingtons and raincoat, but her mother told her not to be silly. So Sally read for a while until she gave herself a slight headache. Then she tried to draw some of the things she had seen on holiday but Sally was not very good at drawing and she soon became tired of it.

Eventually just after three it began to clear. Sally begged to be allowed to take ROCKY for a short walk just so that they both could get "a breath of fresh air." Reluctantly her mother agreed.

"Not far then," she said. "Remember it will be dark soon."

"Keep ROCKY on the lead," said her grandmother. "He always comes when we call him, but he does not really know you yet."

Sally quickly got ready before they could change their minds. She took ROCKY and started off along the forest ride nearest to the cottage. She had meant to go just a short distance. In fact she did not really mean to go out of sight of the cottage.

Suddenly a rabbit hopped out of the trees. ROCKY lunged forward and pulled his lead from Sally's fingers. Instead of hopping back to the relative safety of the trees, the rabbit bolted flat out straight along the ride.

ROCKY bounded after it. The rabbit came to where another ride crossed the first one. The rabbit turned the corner, fled straight ahead and then vanished into the trees. With a sharp bark ROCKY went leaping and barking after it.

Sally ran along the ride calling desperately, "ROCKY, ROCKY, ROCKY," but the little dog paid no attention to her. Sally stopped and forced herself to think calmly. She reasoned that ROCKY could probably find his own way home. She turned and walked back the way she had come.

It was now beginning to get dark. Sally came to the intersection of the rides. She did not notice. She carried straight on.

Back at the cottage old Mrs Batey heard a sharp bark at the door. She opened it. In trotted a very wet and muddy ROCKY, his tail waving slightly and his lead trailing. Where was Sally?

"She'll be home soon," said her grandmother calmly.

But Sally did not come home. Her parents were worried. They began to talk of phoning the Police.

"A bit early for that," said old Mrs Batey. "ROCKY has only been back half an hour. I'll phone up Merwyn. He's good at finding people lost in the forest.

Edward had worked with the Police at various times in his career. He looked up sharply.

"Is that wise? They don't like people fouling tracks for their own dogs."

"They won't mind this time," said old Mrs Batey firmly.

She sounded very definite. Edward wondered at the tone of her voice but said nothing.

Back in the forest Sally stopped. Surely she should be in sight of the cottage by now. She looked around. Strange she did not recognise this part of the forest.

Suddenly she realised the truth. She was lost.

It was now quite dark. To make matters worse it had started to rain again -- and the rain was now turning to sleet. Sally was cold and wet. She did not know what to do. She was probably quite near the cottage, but if she tried to find it she might wander further away. Should she stay put or should she try to find her way home?

Then she saw someone coming towards her. It was Merwyn but in the darkness she did not recognise him. In any case she did not really know him.

"It's all right," he said. "I'll take you home now."

Sally took a step backwards. She gave a little cry. Suddenly she turned and ran. She left the ride and dived in among the trees.

Merwyn stood stock still. Sally was afraid of him. But why? A moment later it dawned on him. Sally had probably not recognised him. She had realised she was alone in the darkness of the forest with an unknown man. Sally belonged to the generation well used to the Police coming round the schools with their talks and their films "Never go with Strangers" and their slogans "Stranger Danger."

So it was not surprising that Sally had acted the way she had. But all the same Merwyn had a feeling of horror and alarm that anyone should be afraid of HIM -- even although he understood the reason for it. It really gave him a jolt.

No matter. he knew what to do about it.

Deep among the pine trees Sally stopped. She listened but she could not hear anyone following her. But she was, if anything, even more frightened. She was lost. She was cold and wet.

Suddenly she heard a little whine. She looked round and there was a black and white collie dog. It whined again and then pawed her arm frantically.

Suddenly Sally realised she KNEW the dog. It was one of the dogs from the cottage up the road. It was the dog she had made friends with the day she had arrived.

The dog took a few steps forward and then stopped, turned and looked at her. It put its head on one side and whined.

All at once Sally began to feel hopeful again. She understood what the dog was trying to do.

"You'll lead me home," she said eagerly. "Go on, dog. Go on."

Slowly the dog led her back to the ride. Then it trotted on steadily, its white patches gleaming in the darkness. Sally followed confidently. Soon she was back outside the cottage gate. The dog watched until she was at the door of the cottage and then bounded off.

Next morning Edward waited until he got a chance to speak to his mother alone.

"There's something strange going on around here," he said. "Why don't you tell me about it."

"Perhaps I should. You will never stop prying otherwise," his mother said slowly. "But off the record as you say. You are not to print a word of it."

Edward nodded and his mother continued. "You'll probably find this hard to believe, but you ought to understand. After all you used to like animals -- especially dogs."

Edward still did but his busy life in London left no time for a dog.

His mother took her time telling him. She started talking about legends about were-wolves -- creatures who could turn themselves from men into wolves and back again.

Edward listened silently. He guessed what was coming.

"The family up the road are a family of were-dogs," said his mother. "Before when someone was lost in the forest Merwyn turned himself into a dog, tracked them down, and then when he found them he turned himself back into a man and led them to safety."

She paused and then continues, "But with Sally it was different. With Sally he had to turn himself back into a DOG."

Edward suddenly thought of something which his mother had missed.

"And Sally recognised the dog," he said slowly, "but she did not recognise Merwyn, even although she has seen him a few times this holiday."

Even if he had not given his word to his mother Edward could never have told that story. But he remembered it and years later he always thought of it whenever he looked at the photograph of Sally and her own little dog taken just after they had qualified C.D.Ex for the first time.

Copyright Mary S. Moffat, 1988

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