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Junkyard Werewolf By Lykanos Wulfheart

You think you've seen strange things in your life? Pretty sure I have you beat. How about you grab your beer and have a seat. Let me tell you about the time I came face to face with the paranormal and didn't even realize it. It's a pretty long tale, so bear with me. I promise it's worth it, though.

It all started when I went to night shift. I'd taken a new job at one of the local factories, performing maintenance for their pumps and motors. The pay was great and the facility was only ten blocks from my apartment, so it was a win-win situation where I could just walk to my job. The late work didn't bother me much, either, as I was a bit of a night owl. Nine at night until five in the morning, that was my shift.

My first day of walking, I sort of re-realized that there was this large junkyard along the way. It was only three blocks from my apartment and I'd never thought much of it until I was on foot, walking past the fence to the place. It was pretty massive, two blocks in each direction with heaps of scrap cars and damaged goods piled high with large paths between the mounds. The fence itself was equally impressive. I remember thinking it odd yet cool that they chose to point the tops while butting the boards together. It was sort of a fusion of a picket fence and your typical barricade wall, six foot high at the tips and made of a plain, light colored wood. I know it was supposed to shy people away, but it only made me want to peek inside. Since I was on my way to work, I'd decided that was an after work project, you know, to peer inside the barrier and see what it hid.

As I worked, all I could think about was that junkyard and what treasures it was protecting. I wasn't thinking of stealing anything, just curious of what it held. All the high dollar mechanical components, salvageable engines, perfectly usable scrap. Sorry, basically, it called to the mechanic in me. So, after my shift, I walked back, stopping to look inside. I'd moved to the middle where the door was, similar to the fence, yet hinged with a metal chain and a padlock on the other side to keep it secured. I only knew because I could see it through the center gap. That wasn't the only thing I saw that night. There in the main aisle, the road to the head office, I saw a huge dog. That's putting it lightly. This thing looked like a large wolf. Pure white fur, pointy ears, it was a sight to behold. I watched as it sniffed around, seemingly unaware of my presence. I think it was digging at something under an old, wrecked, tireless Chevy Lumina when I gasped at the sheer immensity of this thing. Seems it was enough to pull the dog's focus as its ears locked in my direction followed by its golden eyes. Those eyes. They seemed to almost shimmer in the light of the street lamps as this thing's focus was dedicated to my presence. Here I was, tip-toe peering over this fence as this beast takes to a gallop and closes the distance a bit too fast for my comfort. Not going to lie, that kinda freaked me out. I mean, this thing was HUGE! I did what any sane person would have done. I stumbled backward and ran. I rapidly crossed the street and moved towards my house on the wrong side of the road to maximize my distance. With only a brief glance back, I saw this thing looking over the barricade, golden eyes following me as its head cleared the six foot height of wood.

It wasn't until later that morning that I calmed down enough to think back. That face... It was sorta sad. Lonely. I think it was a bit disappointed to see me go. So, in order to ease my mind, I promised myself I'd head out a bit early and see just how friendly this thing was. Don't get me wrong, I like dogs. This one had just caught me off guard is all. I would have even considered getting one of my own had my apartment not allowed animals. So, seeing as I was going to pass by every night, I thought it a good idea to get to know this canine.

The next morning, er, my morning... So seven forty-five in the afternoon, I got ready to visit this giant, white dog. I'd arrived around eight p.m., just in time to see this big beast leave what I assumed was his home in the office. He, or at least I assumed it was a 'he' at this point, spotted me almost instantly, trotting over for a look. He'd stopped almost twenty feet away as we watched each other, gauging the other's intent. He seemed like a well behaved dog, his tail slightly wagging as his ears remained high, sweeping to the side every so often. At this point, I'd noticed that my earlier assessment was wrong. He wasn't pure white. He had a very subtle tan section half way up his nose and ending between his eyes. Had I not known better, I'd say he looked like a less poofy version of a winter-coated wolf. I figured a mix of Great Pyrenees and malamute to give him the big size, white coat, and wolf-like shape. Still, he was impressive and I let him know it. "You're a big 'in, aren't you," I cooed in a friendly tone, hoping to show that I wasn't a threat.

He seemed pleased with my assessment, his fluffy tail flicking in an eager wag as he closed the gap. Again, he forced me to flinch back, his mass reeling up to stand where I had been. I had gone back a few paces as he placed his paws between the picket tops, massive white paws drooping over. These things seemed larger than my hands, and as you can clearly see, I have some pretty big hands. Still, he just peered at me, his head held high. Now, I'm five eleven and I had to stand on my toes to look over that fence. This thing had to have been at least seven, no, seven and a half feet tall and I later learned it wasn't even standing up perfectly straight. Like I said before, freaking HUGE!

Well, he and I just stared, though I was far more timid. He, on the other hand, was eager to meet me. He sniffed and whined excitedly, his furry neck flap comically sagging between one of the top gaps. Like I said, I like dogs, so I slowly reached a hand close enough for him to sniff, which he did. He then strained to lick my fingers, so I let him. All in all, the big guy was far friendlier than I would have thought for a junkyard dog. I proceeded to move forward and pet his massive muzzle, making sure to keep my face away as his slobbery tongue tried to reach for me. Pretty sure I said something like, "You're a good boy, aren't ya? Yea, you're not all big and scary, are ya?" He seemed to appreciate the banter and the attention as I looked him over, the golden eyes kind yet intelligent as I glanced at his tags. There on a faded leather collar was a small circle of metal. I figured it'd have his name, but all it listed was the name and address of the site he guarded. "This just won't do," I said in a soft, teasing tone. "A good dog like you should have their name listed. What is your name, huh?"

I was a little surprised when he almost seemed to answer back with a makeshift bark. He had a deep, throaty sound when he tried to bark, a series of them almost blending into a tiny bit of a howl. It was kind of amusing, really. Scratching below his ear, I replied, "Is that so? Huh... I think I'll call you 'Wolfy'. You look and sound like a Wolfy to me." I couldn't see it, but I could hear it. His long tail thumped against the wood as he wagged, his body pushed close as he reached himself up to plant a puppy dog kiss across my nose and into my rapidly closed eye. As I wiped it off, I believe I said something like, "Yuck. I'll take that as a solid yes."

I petted him for a bit longer before checking my watch. I'd already spent almost half an hour with the guy, so I patted his enormous foot as I told him I had to go to work. You should have heard his whine. It was so sad and pathetic. Like a guy who finally knew kindness only to have it snatched away. I promised him I'd be back, but he still watched me go with sagging ears and a pouty jaw resting in the crook of the ridges.

I kept my promise. After work, I came back over and kept an eye out for him. He didn't see me for a while, but I watched him as he roamed around, sniffing at various puddles of old car fluids and the various nooks and crannies that I figure housed squirrels and mice. Probably the things he chased around in his free time, which he likely had tons of. But, he eventually noticed my presence and came running to greet me with a joyous swagger. I'm proud to say that this time I held my ground, getting a sloppy hello to the cheek and a deep woof of approval. I probably spent another half hour or more just stroking his thick, glossy coat and talking about my day, every so often asking him a similar question, like "What have you been up to?", "Find anything exciting under there?", or even "Do you think that Bonneville's suspension still works?". I think one time I asked him about whether a nice looking toaster still worked. For the most part, he'd just wag, woof, or howl... which was interesting. It did sound very wolfy. But that toaster. That was a later meeting, but he wandered off and brought it back, almost like a game of fetch. Least to say, I fixed it up and still use the thing.

Speaking of fetch, since I did keep visiting Wolfy before and after my shift, I started carrying a backpack with me when I walked. I'd give him leftover scraps of food on my way in to which he was very thankful. He'd basically eat them right out of my hand and he was so careful not to bite. A very well trained dog. Sometimes we'd even make a game of it. I'd toss the morsel over the fence and he'd try to snag it in the air. I can verify that he was very skilled at the food-catch game, though a few times he did take a bit of steak fat or something to the face. Ha, this one time it landed perfectly, dangling over his muzzle as he stared at it all disappointed-like.

Now, the backpack was more for my trip home. I started keeping a Frisbee and a tennis ball in there to play with Wolfy, since he seemed to like to run and catch, yet we really couldn't do much more on opposite sides of the wall. I tried to keep the tennis ball to the roadways, especially the main path, as it was the only real blacktop in the area and gave the best bounce. Everything else was dirt or debris and I really didn't want to make him roam through the sharp bits of metal or old refuse. Still, that sorta happened with the Frisbee. I'm ashamed to admit that my tosses aren't the best. I can get a bit of distance... But hitting my target is another story. I'd get some good throws that he'd either jump up and catch or chase down, but then there were the poor tosses that bounced off old driers or got snagged up in box springs. There was even one that got lodged under the hood of a rusted out 1967 Ford F100. I felt so bad for that one. He tried to get to it, but it was just too far in. I know I apologized to him, but it still sucked. That's when I started carrying a backup of each. Actually, it turned into three of each, since he somehow managed to recover the disk, handing it over triumphantly that night as I headed to work.

I'm getting to the good part, I promise. I just wanted to lead up with how kind and gentle this dog was. He was so loving and friendly that it helps put this next part into perspective. So, a few months into this routine of befriending this lonely dog, something suddenly changed. Up to this point, I'd visit pretty much every time I passed, even staying for an hour or two on my days off. He was probably as much my dog as the junkyard owner's. Well, that morning, about five thirty, I was on my way home from work. Like normal, Wolfy trotted up and greeted me by hanging over the planks and licking my face. By this time, I was pretty well used to it. It was sort of his way of giving back for all the doting I showed him. As I petted and played with his floppy neck fluff, something else seemed to steal away his attention.

When I saw his ears go flat and a snarl form on his lips, I just had to look. To my surprise, three men were walking across the street, joking and teasing as they made their way towards us. The way they moved in made me a bit uneasy, but Wolfy was furious, snapping and growling fiercely as if he knew something I didn't. They say dogs are a good judge of character and he was no different. As they closed in, splitting up to encircle me, two of the three pulled knives. Interestingly enough, the only one who looked anything like a gangster was the guy on the left who didn't have anything save his balled fists to fight with. The other two looked like they could have been skateboarders, colorful tees and shorts, their complexions as Caucasian as my own. The man in the middle seemed to be their leader, a short haired man with a bit of a tan. Swinging his blade in my direction, he threatened, "If you don't drop that bag things'll get messy."

The man on the right, only just an adult and the youngest of the three, almost chuckled out, "You'd better listen to him, man."

I may be a strong-looking guy due to my years as a mechanic, but three on one is still way more than I could hope to handle, two of them sporting weapons while their darker friend outclassed me with his muscle. Least to say, I did as told, holding out the bag as I informed them, "It's just some dog toys and my empty lunch box. Nothing else."

The man in the middle grabbed my backpack and tossed it to his unarmed subordinate, demanding, "Check it," as he refocused his attention back on me. He then decided to bellow, "If that's true, give me your wallet."

I was a bit more hesitant to part with my money and all the memorabilia tucked within, so I backed myself into the wooden barricade, Wolfy snarling and barking at the men as they held their ground. I could hear his aggressive tone against my right ear, his muzzle pushing just into my field of view as he snapped at them with feral vigor. Suddenly, my only thought was that they were going to hurt that poor, innocent dog as he tried to protect me.

Again, the man in the middle shouted orders, this time to the scrawny guy with the knife. "Shut that thing up." He then proceeded to lift his flip-out camping knife at me, twisting the blade up threateningly. "Are you deaf, dog lover? I said give me your wallet."

"Fuck," shouted their brawny brute as he threw my pack to the sidewalk. "It's all just tennis balls and Frisbees. This fucker's still got his valuables on him."

The man to my right kept his distance, they all did, but he still took a couple stabs in the direction of Wolfy. Nothing close, just trying to scare him away. Wolfy continued to snap at the antagonist until he dipped down behind the fence, silent and out of view. The punk chuckled with his victory as the ring leader took a step forward. "Cut him."

"Okay. Okay! I'll give you my wallet. Just don't hurt me, alright." I was in a panic. I didn't want to die, not for the eighty dollars tucked in my wallet or the fifteen and change rattling in my jeans. Credit cards can be canceled, memories reprinted. My life, not worth it.

At this point I could feel my heart pounding, hear it. The dull throb was so intense. However, as I fumbled for my cash, another clamor grew. Behind the wall I heard a clacking, the swift pace of paws running against blacktop. Within seconds, I saw something that dropped me to my butt. While I was still standing, almost as tall as this barricade, Wolfy flew through the air. It wasn't right above my head, either. Not even close! This dog managed to jump twice my height, sailing over me and slamming straight into their boss. The impact sent the guy sprawling into the street, his knife skittering off to the side as the behemoth smashed down on top of him. His two allies took one look at the angry beast and bolted, darting off in their safest direction, leaving the man in the middle to fend for himself. I was sagged to the ground at this point, my back against the wood as my raspy breaths tried to keep up with what was happening. In an instant, white fangs gleamed at our attacker, the man pinned below the front paw of the growling predator. This dog, to which I had only ever seen kindness, snapped at this guy's face until he started to cry, tears welling as he pleaded with the animal to spare his life. I had expected Wolfy to bite, but he remained as he was, pinning his victim with the look of ferocious power about his frame. With heckles raised and tail twitching with anger, he didn't let the thug move an inch, biting at the air with every little struggle.

I was finally starting to catch up with what was happening, looking to each side to verify that his friends had abandoned him. I tried to stand, but my knees were still trembling, a combination of the fear and adrenaline of the attack. Both attacks. I managed to pull myself up against the planks and carefully started to move forward. I didn't want to accidentally frighten my savior and get hurt, myself, so I kept my distance. Moving up, I saw Wolfy's eyes. They usually held that intelligent glimmer of joy, but now they were locked in a seething display of killer hatred, his face wrinkled in a chilling display of teeth and terror. When he noticed me, his gaze darted between me and the villain, almost as if to ask what to do next. I got down on my knees and moved slowly closer, all the while listening to the man plead with me. "I'm sorry. Please! Please! I don't want to die. Just let me go, man. I'll never come back. I swear. I swear! Don't let it kill me, man!"

My fingers were slow. Hesitant. I had moved just within reach of the massive white canine, but I was still nervous as to whether to touch him or let him keep his focus. If I did nothing, someone could get hurt. If I did something, -I- could get hurt. Still, I'm too nice a guy to watch another get mauled... even if he did deserve it. My fingertips managed to brush into the fur of Wolfy's neck, shakingly poking as I tried to turn my terror into something soothing, my digits locking up, yet sweeping to pet his coat.

The monster of a junkyard dog seemed to know exactly what I was up to, his flat-back ears flicking to the sides as he looked my way, a glimmer of that intellect mixing with a bit of woe. I could tell in an instant he was just as scared as I was, despite being the one in control of the situation. Like a good captive, the robber remained silent as I calmed Wolfy's rage, slowly working more and more of my hand into his soft, warm coat. My hesitation and fear slowly dissipated as I slid in closer, almost praising the dog as he relaxed, still unflinching from his role of protector. It took a moment for me to speak. It took time for me to find the words. "G-good boy, Wolfy. Good boy." He seemed to appreciate the compliment as I turned to the man who started all of this drama. "You. If I ever see you around this neighborhood again, I'll let him hunt you down and end you. You got that? Never show your face here again. He's got your scent. You're just lucky he didn't rip out your throat."

The coward mumbled more than said, "You h-have my word. Never again."

Patting at the hound's shoulder, I stood and took a step back. "Let him go." Wolfy seemed to understand disturbingly well, giving a close-to-the-face snarling huff before removing his enormous paw from the guy's chest. Pushing back, he placed himself slightly between me and the former assailant as the criminal scampered to his feet and fled. Neither Wolfy nor I took our eyes off the man until he was completely out of view. When the threat had passed, I slumped back down and wiggled my hands against the pooch's cheeks, exclaiming, "You were such a good boy, Wolfy. Such a good boy!" He seemed to agree, flopping his haunches to the concrete as his tongue lulled with pleasure. I'm not going to lie, I was so moved by his dedication that I gave him a big, ol' hug around his neck. It was strangely warm as I clung to him, feeling his rapid heartbeat almost match my own. Two freaked out friends on the side of the street.

After a bit more petting, I tussled between his ears and walked over to get the discarded knife. I figured it would be worth turning into the cops, so I put it into one of my backpack's side pockets and turned my attention back to my savior. "Now how are we going to get you back into your home? Huh, buddy?" As if to answer me, he looked both ways before trotting into the street. With a quick charge, he cleared the fence, just inches above the boards this time. I swear there was a grace to his leap that still leaves me in awe.

After a bit more affection and a bit more sun in the sky, I took off for home, and then drove to the police station to turn in my evidence and fill out a report. Seems it was a one-time thing. A little band of ruffians had come to the area and caused a bit more commotion than I thought. A bit of vandalism, a little theft, and with my report, an attempted mugging. Thanks to my descriptions, they had the guys within a week, but that's not where the story gets weird.

I couldn't sleep that evening, still all riled from my traumatic experience. I called in and told my employer what had happened and they gave me the day off, much to my relief. Instead, I took the time to visit the junkyard in the daylight, which was an all-new experience. For the first time the gates were open to me and I didn't see Wolfy anywhere in sight. A quick whistle resulted in nothing, which was sad. I was so used to that floppy face bolting over to give me a lick.

When I stepped inside the office, there was only one person there. He was a gruff looking man, orange hair that was almost half grey and a thick, bushy beard of the same colors. I had almost expected overalls, but he was pretty well dressed. His business casual attire was a combination of a solid red dress shirt with the sleeves rolled, a pair of mostly clean blue jeans, and steel toed boots. It put my casual work garb to shame, his boots showing more wear from labor than my own. Either way, he seemed to know me, though I had never met him before.

"Ah, it's you," he exclaimed as he moved over for a hand-shake. "You're the man who's been keeping my dog company the last few months. Thank you for that. I know I- he gets pretty lonely here all by himself."

"It's been my pleasure... Jim? Of Jimmy's Scrap, right," I asked. I'd missed the sign coming in, but that was the name of the company on Wolfy's tag.

With a hearty chuckle, he replied, "Jim, Jimmy, whichever you prefer."

I nodded, his eyes all too familiar with their friendly sparkle. "Jim, it's been my pleasure. Your dog is so well behaved and has been such a great friend to me on my walks to and from work. That's actually what brings me here."

He seemed all too pleased with my compliments, perking up as he asked, "Oh?"

It felt more like I was talking to a friend than a stranger, which was odd. I'd just met this guy, but his body language was so familiar, too familiar. I crossed my arms and rocked a bit as I gave my reason. "Last night, your dog saved me from some thugs. Even jumped the fence to take them on. I was wondering... With your permission of course, would it be alright if I gave him a celebratory steak or something tonight? He did kinda save my life and all."

When he replied, he seemed to know exactly what I was talking about, another oddity in the long line of strange going-ons in that office. "Oh, that. Chased off those three men, didn't he?"

I was taken aback by his knowledge. I mean, I could see if it were cameras, though I'm pretty observant. I had never noticed any in all my visits and I was distinguishing six cylinder motors from four cylinders halfway across the scrap heaps in the middle of the night. Pretty sure I would have noticed the cameras, hell, even the wires. I had to ask, "How did you know about that?"

He seemed to ponder things over before he chose the obvious answer. "Cameras."

I nodded, but wasn't sold. Still, I was here for the dog, not to question his owner's honesty. "I see," I said halfheartedly, "so, did he earn a treat, then?"

"He'd love it," snorted the burly businessman as he leaned back against his desk. "Feel free to feed him any time you like. I can assure you, he appreciates the gifts."

Glancing around, I saw dog hair around the office, but no dog. I figured this was where he'd be, but I guess I was wrong. "So," I hesitated as I considered how to ask. "Where is he? Oh, and what's his name? I've just been calling him Wolfy on account of his appearance."

The owner just smirked as he answered me. "He sleeps through the day. Only ever really comes out at night. He likes to stay a bit hidden during the daylight hours. As for his name..." There was a suspiciously long pause as he seemed to laugh at some sort of inside joke. "Seems we had the same idea. You had it from the start. He's Wolfy."

Though that was a fitting name, it was almost too perfect to be a coincidence. I was starting to suspect that he may be more than he appeared. I mean, come on. I grew up on stories about werewolves, the movies, etcetera. The height Wolfy had jumped, his enormous size, the disturbingly similar personalities between him and his owner... and especially that little "I-he" stutter. Yea, I had caught that when he said it. I was pretty sure I had him figured out. And Wolfy's unwillingness to bite. That. That suddenly made sense. I knew Jim wouldn't admit to anything, but I was going to ask anyways. "So, what breed is he? I had assumed Great Pyrenees mixed with Alaskan malamute, but based on what he can do, I'm starting to think..." I took great care to speak the last bit with a devious inflection, especially the final word, "Some kind of wolf."

The big man seemed to know what I was implying, his face remaining as friendly as ever. His eyes held that familiar intelligence as he replied, his own voice edged with subtle acknowledgement. "He is half wolf, yes. The rest... I can't rightly say."

I couldn't help but laugh, the irony of his answer all too sweet. I appreciated it, though. He basically confirmed my suspicions without giving himself up. A good boy even as a man. I thanked Jim for his time, adding in, "And make sure to let Wolfy know I'll be bringing him a steak. I have the night off, so I'll be by around nine."

With a nod and a smile, Jim stated, "Oh, I'll let him know. See you around, Vince." That was the evidence that proved it. I had never introduced myself to this man. Not once. Wolfy had heard my name, as I'd introduced myself a bit early on in our friendship, but not once to this man. I left knowing that my suspicions were right. This dog was no dog, but a junkyard werewolf. Businessman by day, guard dog by night. The perfect disguise.

I did just as I'd promised, Wolfy waiting by the fence for his big, juicy steak. I knew he'd know. Oh, I knew. Despite that, I still kept him company each day until I had to move away for a new job. Before I'd moved, though, I'd teased Wolfy a few times about how I knew what he was. Under hush whispers, I'd joke about his werewolfiness. After that, I got to know Jim a bit better. I never talked to him about his condition as a man. I only teased the dog. Still, he knew and he appreciated that I still kept him company. He was sad to see me go when I did, though. Even saw him shed a manly tear when we had our last beer together. Still, we kept in touch after that and still are good friends.

Why am I telling you all this? Why would I betray his trust? I'm not. Not really. He's moved since then. Retired. Still hang out from time to time. Beer with the old guy, ball with the pooch. So, like I said at the beginning, you think you've seen strange things in your life? Pretty sure I just won. I mean come on. I've been licked by a freaking werewolf for crying out loud.