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The dogs were all taken care of: the most serious cases were already on their way back to Animal Control for emergency care and the other survivors waited in their carriers. Officer Lopez had settled them in and calmed them down. Now he needed to talk to the police officers about the case. McNabb the property owner was standing there, chatting with the officers.

"Look, Sergeant," said Lopez. "This is a clear violation of animal treatment regulations. Running a dogfighting operation is against the law. You need to arrest McNabb and his employees."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, Lopez. You do your job and we'll do ours. Go back and take care of your precious puppies. Just make sure they don't bite anyone!"

He and the other officers laughed ... and so did McNabb and his employees. Lopez rolled his eyes and realized he wasn't going to get anything out of them he turned to go back to the dogs, but not before seeing McNabb hand a fat wad of bills to the sergeant. That was timed, Lopez thought, and there's a bunch of them and just one of me. Grrrr.

The Animal Control truck arrived and Lopez loaded the carriers onto it. He got in the cab and sulked as Officer Cranston drove back to the pound.

"That didn't go too well, did it?" asked Cranston.

"No. That sergeant is in McNabb's pocket. And a fat wad of cash is in the sergeant's pocket. Nothing I can do about it."

"I hear ya, Lopez. But we got the dogs."

"That's the one good thing that came out of this."

Two weeks later Lopez was on a call to an animal cruelty report. The dog was in sorry shape: Lopez could count the ribs on the poor thing's chest. It whined pitifully from the other side of the fence. He had seen enough; this was a clear violation of Champion City's animal care ordinance.

He went to the front door of the red brick house and knocked. An unshaven man wearing a wife-beater came to the door.

"Yeah? Whaddaya want?"

"I'm from Animal Control, here to check up on your dog. We've had some complaints--"

"Animal control? I don't need no animal control. I'm in control of my animals."

"We've had complaints from the neighbors--"

"The neighbors? They're always complaining about something. What is it this time?"

"Your neighbors are complaining about your dog--"

"My dog? What's the matter with my dog? He's quiet. He doesn't bark."

"They're saying your dog is underfed. I checked in on--"

"Underfed? Why didn't you say so? I'll go feed him right now."

"I checked in on your dog and he's underweight and needs medical attention. You have to take him to a vet--"

"Take him to a vet? I can't afford to take him to a vet. I'm poor!"

"You have to take him to a veterinarian for checkups and immunizations--"

"I said I can't afford all that shit! Why don't you just leave us alone?"

"If you can't afford all that shit, then maybe you can't afford to keep a dog. If you'll sign your dog over to me, I'll--"

"Now you want to take my dog away from me? You're gonna youth in ice him. You're gonna kill my dog!"

"No, you don't understand. I love dogs; I would not hurt a dog for anything. It hurts me to see your dog starving and whining. I just--"

"Whining? The dog is whining? I'll show him how to whine!"

"Are you done talking?"

"Hunh?"

"Every time I try to say something to you--"

"Yeah, I'm done talking."

"Okay, then. I want to take your dog to a good home. Somewhere he will get food and love and care. Otherwise--ah! Otherwise I'll have to write you a tic--Ah! I'll write you a ticket. Ah! You said you were done talking. Right? ... Now listen to me. Your dog is hurting and you're the one hurting him. It pisses me off when low-life scum like you mistreat your animals."

Lopez growled and snarled a little to make his point. The man looked at him with big eyes.

"This can end one of two ways," said Lopez. "You can sign your dog over to me and I'll take him to a shelter. He'll get looked at by a vet, get all his shots, get fed and bathed, and get sent to a loving home. Or I can arrest you for animal cruelty, and I'll take both of you to Animal Control. See that truck? That's what I've got to take you back in. And I'm not letting you stink up the front seat. So you'll get to ride in one of the kennels. I'd really rather take just the dog."

"Okay, okay, man! You don't have to get all angry and violent! Geeze! Where's the form? I'll sign it!"

Lopez held a clipboard and let the man sign the form. He gave him his copy.

"Thank you, sir, and your dog thanks you."

Lopez walked to the side of the house and opened the gate.

"Hey, buddy. Come here, buddy. Want a treat? I got a treat. Yeah. There ya go. Wanna come with me? Okay. Up you go."

Lopez picked the dog up can carried it back to the truck. He put the dog in one of the kennels and closed the door. He sat in the front of the truck and called Animal Control on his radio.

"Central, this is Lopez over on the east side near the bridge. I've got a medium-sized classic mutt with nutritional problems and a release from the former owner. I'll be back at central in about half an hour. Can I have a vet standing by?"

"Lopez, this is Central. Cranston here. Hey, Fernando. Good work. Come on back to the barn; I'll have Carla waiting for you."

"Roger that."

Lopez drove the dog-catcher truck into the driveway at Animal Control. Dr. Carla Stephens was waiting for him there with a cart and a nurse. Lopez opened the door on the kennel and retrieved the dog.

"Hey, buddy. Come and meet my friends. They'll take good care of you. Okay, buddy?"

"Fernando, good work," said Dr. Stephens. "Gosh, he's all ribsy! Looks like you got him here just in time."

"Yeah. From the looks of things, he wouldn't have made it another month. Hey, I'll be in the office to fill out the paperwork. I'll check in after that's done, okay?"

"Okay, see you."

Dr. Stephens accompanied the dog as the nurse wheeled it into the exam room. Lopez went to his office for the usual paperwork. He filled out all the necessary forms for the complaint, the answer, the investigation, and the the signing-over and put them in the dog's case folder. Dr. Stephens would fill out the medical disposition forms when she was done with her exam. The district attorney would look them over and decide whether to file charges. He never did, but Lopez did his job anyway.

Lopez rubbed his eyes and turned out the light on the desk. A headache was coming on. Not again, he thought. He went to the break room and fixed himself a cup of coffee. That often helped.

He took it with him to the exam room.

"Hey, there, Carla. How's my buddy?"

"He's doing fine. I did an exam and aside from being ribsy from malnourishment, he will be okay. He's eating. We'll bed him down for the night and tomorrow we'll get him groomed."

"How are the dogs from that bust doing?"

Carla frowned. "Four of them didn't make it, and three were so bad-tempered we had to put them down."

Lopez looked down and frowned. A growl escaped him.

"You're looking pale," said Carla. "Are you all right?"

"I've got another headache coming on."

"Like last month?"

"Yeah, I think so. Can you do anything for me?"

She glared at him and looked around. No one had overheard.

"Fernando, hush. You know I can't do anything for you now. Just wait a few hours. Then I can treat you. Let's go down to the basement." She put down her clipboard and walked out of the office and down the hall.

"Are you sure that's necessary?"

"Yes. You know what happened last time."

"Oh. Right." He followed her.

She unlocked the door ... and everything was as they had left it last time.

"Oh, man, this is the part I hate."

"Oh, Fernando. Don't be such a grump. Just relax and let me strap you down. You'll be fine, I promise."

"Can we start the drugs early, before the pain hits?"

She bit her lip and frowned, clearly in a moral dilemma.

"I can't give you any medication; you know that. These pills are for dogs: acetaminophen, aspirin, ibuprofen, naproxin, valium, vicodin, versed. If I had a two hundred fifty pound dog that was in your kind of pain, I'd give him two of each, maybe four, but certainly not more than six. I can't advise you to take them ... So I'm going down the hall to powder my nose. I'll be back in a couple of minutes. Guard these drugs while I'm gone."

"Yes, doctor."

As soon as she closed the door he went for the jars of pills. He took four of each, not wanting to overdo it, and chased them with a glass of water. He went to the cabinet and retrieved the restraints, then sat down on the backboard. He lay back and the headache started receding, and he was not feeling quite so bad. He stripped down to his blue police issue spandex boxer briefs and stretched out. He began to feel a bit loopy, which was better than headachey, so he decided to take a nap.

He was barely aware of someone straightening him out; he felt light, comfortable pressure around his wrists and ankles. He tugged and couldn't move them. He heard a kind voice, Carla's, tell him to relax, so he did.

He opened his eyes. He was on the floor. He saw Carla sitting in a chair next to him ... he tried to speak, but all he could do was whine. Carla looked at him.

"Fernando?"

He nodded. That was strange; there was a big brown thing down and in front of his face where his nose usually was.

"Fernando, can you hear me?"

He nodded again and tried to say, "Yes, I'm awake," but all that came out was yowling.

"That's amazing, Fernando. You've transformed, like last month, but you're lucid. How many pills did you take?"

More yowling was all he could do.

"Hang on. One at a time, tap your right hand the number of pills. Valium."

He tapped four times.

"Wow. Okay. Ibuprofen."

Four more times.

"Acetaminophen?"

Four more taps.

"Are you in pain?"

He looked around as though searching for it. He shook his head no.

"If you could talk, could you tell me your name?"

He rolled his eyes at her.

"Of course, I've been telling you your name all along. Okay, my name. Do you know who I am?"

He tried, honestly, to speak her name, but it was just yowling.

"Well, I think I heard my name in there somewhere. But you do act sane enough ... if looking like a werewolf can be counted as acting sane. If I release these straps, do you promise to be a good boy?"

He nodded.

"Okay. Now just relax and I'll unstrap you."

He lay there as she unstrapped his restraints. He wrinkled his nose and saw the lump that was in front of his face wiggle.

"You can get up now."

Lopez sat up and looked at himself. He was all covered with fur in light tan, brown, and some black. He looked at his hands, which had become paws. He felt his head and realized that he had grown a snout and is ears were big and pointy.

"Yep. You're a werewolf. That was astonishing to watch. Good thing you were drugged, otherwise that would probably have hurt a lot."

He looked down at his spandex shorts. He looked up sheepishly and said, "Merf?"

Carla smirked. "Heh. Don't worry. I'm a veterinarian; I've seen dog bits before. You're totally lucid, aren't you?"

He nodded.

"You just can't talk."

He shook his head.

"Okay. Help me with these restraints. We don't want to leave them lying around where someone might find them."

Lopez saw the straps and locking belts scattered around. He looked at the doctor, then carefully rolled up the restraints and put them in their canvas bag. This he placed in their cupboard.

"Good boy. Well. It's a full moon out, and we have a job to do. Are you up for it?"

He looked at her, furrowed his brow, and quietly yowled "Aroo?"

"Remember that dog-fighting ring you busted up last week?"

He squinted and bared his teeth.

"Yeah, you remember. And the cops didn't do anything. I think we need to pay them a visit. What do you think?"

Lopez, now a big furry red and tan wolf, quite in charge of his mental faculties and understanding exactly what his friend the veterinarian was suggesting, nodded.

Just then the door opened and Officer Cranston entered. He looked at Lopez and stopped short, then recovered.

"What the hell?"

Do Stephens laughed. "It's okay, Cranston. Come in and close the door. This is Officer Lopez."

"Huh. That is really an amazing costume."

"I told you, Cranston, this is real. This is Lopez; he's a werewolf. The real deal."

"Uh huh. Come here, puppy," said Cranston.

Lopez gave him a good werewolf impression of a smirk, then walked to Cranston, slowly, and lowered his head.

"Go ahead, Cranston. Look for the seams. Give him an exam. He's real."

Lopez whined a bit as Cranston carefully examined Lopez.

"Well, I'll be damned. It's a real werewolf. How come he's not all bitey and vicious?"

"Because he's Lopez."

"Fernando?"

Lopez looked at Cranston with a look that said, "You dumb ass."

"Yeah, that's Fernando. How'd this happen?"

"It's the full moon, Cranston. This sort of thing happens."

"Right."

"Cranston. Get real. Remember that dog-fighting ring you broke up last week?"

"The one the cops didn't want to arrest? Yeah, I remember."

"I think we need to pay them another visit."

"And do what? Arrest them?"

"No exactly." She looked at Lopez.

"Oh!" said Cranston. "I've got just the thing. In fact, it's in one of these cabinets."

He opened drawers at random. "No, not the werewolf restraints. Here it is! Put these on!" He threw black overalls at Dr. Stephens and at Lopez, and kept one for himself.

Lopez held his up and wagged his tail.

"Hang on, I can take care of that," said Dr. Stephens. She got a pair of scissors from her utility kit and cut an opening in the seat. "Try that."

Lopez pulled the overalls on and maneuvered his tail through the slot. He zipped them up and wagged his tail.

Dr. Stephens and Cranston put their overalls on as well.

"Ready to raise some hell?"

"Yeah, I hate those dog-fighters."

"Arf!"

They climbed the stairs from the basement and went to the garage. They looked at the pickup truck with the dog carriers on the back ... and Lopez just shook his dead. They took the big van instead.

Half an hour later they were on the east side, near the bridge. Not wanting to be spotted, they parked their van a block away and walked. There was a construction site; a man was shoveling a ditch. He paused from his work as Cranston, Dr. Stephens, and Lopez walked by in their black overalls.

"Good evening," said Dr. Cranston.

"Have a nice night," said the shoveler.

Lopez wagged his tail.

Smiling, the shoveler returned to his work.

The turned the corner and saw the building.

"The place is locked. What are we gonna do, knock on the front door?"

"It's as good an idea as any."

Dr. Stephens knocked on the front door.

"Animal Control! Open up!"

Some minutes later the door opened and one of the employees answered.

"Animal Control? Really? What do you want?"

"Inspection."

"At this time of night?"

"You got a problem with that?" said Cranston.

"Well, first, you gotta have a warrant."

"I'll show you my warrant," said Cranston. Lopez stepped in front of him and pushed the door open, almost knocking the employee over.

"Hey! What the--?"

Lopez growled at him. Cranston said, "Get on the floor!"

As he did, Cranston pinned his wrists behind his back and wrapped them with duct tape. Then he wrapped his ankles.

"You're a werewolf!"

Lopez growled some more.

The dogs started barking, so they knew where to go next: The kennels.

Dr. Stephens was already there.

"These all look to be in good shape. No need to take any of them to the pound. They're just too confined in their cages. But we need to make the place safe for them."

"Right."

They went upstairs and found the bedrooms. Awakened by the noise, the other employees and the owner were walking around in their bathrobes and pajamas. One by one Lopez and Cranston would trap them, tape them up, and growl at them.

They conducted a search of the building, found nothing else of interest. They made sure the dogs were fed for at least another day or two, then left the building. They pulled the front door shut and made sure it latched.

"That should hold 'em."

"Right."

"Arf."

They waked the block back to their van. As they passed the shoveler, they greeted him again, smiling.

"It's a nice night, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is. Funny thing, I heard some dogs barking over there. I hope everything is all right."

"Oh, yes, it is," said Cranston. "Everything's taken care of."

"Good. I really hate dog-fighters. I'm glad someone took care of the problem."

"Arf," said Lopez.

"And Arf to you, too. Champion City needs more heroes."

The shoveler went back to his work. Dr Stephens, Cranston, and Lopez went back to their van and drove back to Animal Control.

The police sergeant sat at the conference room table, a folder with some papers in front of him.

"I'm following up on a strange report I got from the property owner where you retrieved some dogs the other week. He claims to have been visited by a werewolf. Would you know anything about that?"

Dr. Stephens, Cranston, and Lopez looked at each other and furrowed their brows.

"A werewolf, you say?" asked Dr. Stephens.

"Yes, Doctor. Big ears, all black."

"Uh huh. And this guy is not in a mental hospital, why, exactly?"

"Well, the funny thing is, someone let all the animals loose and restrained everyone with duct tape. Nothing was missing."

"So you're telling us that your police protection was working out, and a crazy man reports seeing a werewolf."

"Yes, I guess that's one way of putting it."

"And this involves us, how exactly?"

"Well, you are Animal Control."

Lopez said, "So you think that Animal Control has jurisdiction over werewolves? Dr. Stephens, are we equipped to handle werewolves?"

"Medically, sure. How about physically?"

Lopez and Cranston looked at each other.

"Yeah, we could handle the problem."

Dr. Stephens looked at the sergeant. "Yes. Consider us in charge of werewolves. If you get any more werewolf sightings, call us. Thank you very much for alerting us to the problem. Oh, and don't even think about issuing silver bullets to your officers. That was invented in the 1930s by movie studios. It has no basis in reality."

"Uh, thank you, Dr. Stephens. You've been most helpful."

"Thank you, Sergeant. Have a nice day."

The sergeant gathered his papers and left the conference room. The three waited for the door to close, and then looked at each other. They burst out laughing.