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“Thank you. What’s your question?” The monitor said this was Mark from Los Angeles. Nothing in his voice sounded funky.
“Okay, so, I’m a werewolf. And I’m not really part of a pack, but I know some other werewolves in the area and we try to look out for each other, you know?”
“That’s great,” I said. “The world would be a better place if we looked out for each other a little more. Go on.”
“I wanted to ask you about a problem—well, it’s not really a problem yet, but I always worry about it. It makes me crazy sometimes, worrying about it. Like, what if it’s a full moon night and I can’t get out of the city to shape-shift and hunt? So far I’ve managed it, but what if I can’t someday? I have nightmares about getting stuck in a traffic jam, and shifting in my car. Or just losing it before I can get to open space. Am I worrying for nothing? Is there something I can do to keep this from happening? What if it does happen?”
I could hear his anxiety, and an undertone of embarrassment, as if he thought no one else worried about this kind of thing. I tried to reassure him. “It’s a legitimate concern. Especially living in a big urban area—you never know what’s going to happen. But you can take precautions, like giving yourself plenty of time to get out of town.”
“But what if you get stuck? People must get stuck sometimes. What do you do? Have you ever gotten stuck?”
I had, but only because of events totally outside my control. I wasn’t going to bring up those messes. “I’ve never been in a situation I couldn’t handle. The problem with getting stuck is, our wolf sides really want to get out and run. So while you could lock yourself in your house, werewolves are pretty good about breaking out, even scratching through doors and breaking windows. You need a really solid room or cage to prevent that from happening. I know that some werewolves have built cages in their houses for just such emergencies, if they’re close to shifting and don’t have time to get into the wild. Another thing that helps is having fresh meat on hand. If the werewolf has a big juicy rump roast to gnaw on, he calms down and stays put. Does any of this advice sound useful, Mark?”
“Yeah . . . yeah. It makes sense.”
“Having coping strategies in place can reduce a lot of anxiety.”
“Yeah, I can see that. I may never use a cage in the basement, but just knowing it’s there would help. Thanks, Kitty.”
“And thanks for your call. If any of my listeners out there have other good coping strategies, I’d love to hear about it. Next caller, please.” I shifted in my swivel chair and leaned toward the mic.
“Hello, yes. Oh my gosh, am I really on?”
“Yes, you’re really on,” I said, amused. “What’s your question?”
&
nbsp; “Um, well. Do you have any advice about telling your family that you’re a werewolf? It’s not something that ever comes up in regular conversation. And, well, I just don’t know how to bring it up with my parents.”
“I get this question pretty often. There isn’t a good, right answer because everyone’s situation is different. Have you been a werewolf for a while, or is this a recent thing?”
“Oh, it’s been a couple of years. But that’s just it. I’m finally comfortable with it, I think. And it feels awful keeping this big secret from my family. It’s eating me up. But I’m scared to tell them, I don’t know how they’ll react.”
“Here’s the advice I usually give: truth isn’t always the best policy in cases like this, if it’s likely to upset your family and they wouldn’t understand. But you might consider that they’ve already guessed that something’s going on, and they might be worried about you. If that’s the situation, it might actually be a relief for them to hear the truth.”
“That’s it!” she said. “That’s it exactly. My mom’s been asking all these questions, and I have to keep dodging. She must think I’m on drugs or something.”
“And next to that how bad is being a werewolf? If you do decide to tell your family, you might also give them as much information as you can, like copies of magazine articles, or even my own book, Underneath the Skin.” Shameless plugs never hurt anyone . . .
“Okay. I’ll have to think about it. But cool. That helps.”
“Good luck to you. Now, moving on.” I was trying to pick relevant calls, questions that would help Tyler and Walters with situations they might run into, answers that would help them cope. So far so good. I hoped they were listening.
“Hi, I have a question about getting along with other werewolves and things?”
“All right, bring it on.”
“I’ve got this situation, I’ve never heard of anything like it. It must be kind of strange, but it seems to be working out.” He was male, young sounding. Either inexperienced or embarrassed—a true-confessions kind of call.
“What’s going on?” I said.
“Okay, so I’m a werewolf. And I met this girl—she’s a were-tiger. How cool is that?”
“That’s pretty cool.”
“We decided to move in with this other couple—they’re were-leopards.”
“What was that line about dogs and cats, living together? Sounds a little wild, literally. You all get along?”
