 I'm not here to mince words. What I do is really messed up, but I'm not the villain here. Every Christmas or birthday, I see the same thing happen. People get dogs that they think they're ready for their kids to train, and then it winds up being too much responsibility. Or the kid changed his mind at the last second and now wants a turtle instead. Suddenly the dog is a burden. When they bring the pups here to our shelter, the goal is to get them re-homed. But we don't live in a world caked with butterflies and rainbows. There's a harsh reality that most people don't think about. And that's because we all tell ourselves we are good people. Over half of the dogs we take in never get a good home. We try to keep them as long as we can, but honestly supplies are limited. Our budget is even more so. Only a dog or cat can stay with us for about 4 days, and then we have no other choice but to put them down. There is nothing worse than having to euthanize animals that just wanted to get a good home. But given the local population of strays is already overwhelming a lot of neighborhoods, we don't really have a choice. I'm not a bad person for trying my damnedest to give these animals a second chance, and this is why I often encourage people to spay or neuter as much as possible. Anything we can do to curb the population is better than this active euthanizing. It feels like we're hunting and killing these innocent creatures. And if you think that what we're doing is harmless, then my recent nightmare could make you see things differently. I came into work to my shift after Christmas just like always, a fresh box of pups at our door with a hastily scribbled message on the side of the cardboard, free to good home. Of course, this was expected. Many people assumed that we would just post the dogs on Facebook or Instagram and get them re-homed before the day was done. Sometimes they view us as a charity, not bothering to even give us a return address. Part of that is likely due to shame for just dumping the dogs at our doorstep. Either way, these four pups looked healthy and robust, larger than normal huskies if I had to guess. I'm not an expert on those things. It looked like they'd brought in a whole family because two of the dogs were larger than the others. I called out to my co-worker to help get them inside to the crates. These animals looked scared and frightened, confused about what was happening. Because of this and their sheer size, I kept my distance as best as I could until we could get them to a holding area. I can't tell you how many times I've been injured simply because of putting my hand in the wrong spot. And these dogs definitely looked like they could put a hole in my hand. Stanley, one of the other few sad saps that agreed to work after Christmas, helped me as best as he could as the dogs yelped and snapped at us. Blimey, these mutts are heavy. How in the world could they have just gotten them? He asked as we finally got inside and I grabbed one of the rope leads to get the larger male into a cage. I haven't the foggiest idea but man these dogs are full like they just ate a full grown person. I said as I lugged the large male into his pen. The others were placed in a separate pen each and it seemed like the large female was the most aggressive, likely a protective instinct for her pups. Thankfully, none of them lashed out against me or Stan. Once we had them separated, I took a breather and got a better look at the larger huskies. They looked more like wolves to be honest. And the hair on the back of the female was starting to bristle. She was not too happy being separated from her pups. Let's get them some food and water, I suggested. Once we were away from the dogs, my phone buzzed. It was my supervisor Brent Easton. Brent had been getting on us lately about the census and keeping our kennel at low population. Big surprise right after Christmas, he was singing the same song and dance. Listen Lance, I like you. I know you love these animals, otherwise you wouldn't be in this line of work. But I just got the New Year's budget and they've cut us down 30% from last year. That means we aren't going to be able to play nice anymore. He told me as I followed Stan to the pantry. You kidding me? We can't be serious. We need to educate our community about this crisis. Killing more animals isn't the solution. I argued. You think I don't know that? But this is all a numbers game and honestly we have bigger problems to deal with than the shelter. The only way we're going to keep the place afloat is by doing what needs to be done. Besides, you know as well as I do, these animals wouldn't survive on the streets anyway. This is a mercy. Brent told me, I reluctantly agreed and hung up getting a big bowl for the dogs and heading back to the kennel. It made me hate myself to even admit that I knew he was right. We simply didn't have the supplies available to be able to make a difference. It was a sobering thought as I slid the bowl of food towards the pups. But despite how they'd seemed hungry, both were now resting in the corner or at least pretending to. For some reason, as I offered them water, it felt like their eyes were on me. Something about these dogs unnerved me. I sat back and decided the next step was registering them into the system. Otherwise, it would do no good to even keep them here. And as I did, Stan rushed in with his phone against his ear, looking a little panicked. One of my kids just fell off the trampoline I bought him for Christmas. I got to go. He announced, I wished him well and told him a few fleeting words as I got back to work. A few hours passed and I got some other paperwork done. The dogs continued to rest and watch me. Occasionally, the larger ones would get up and test the strength of the kennel gate, snarling angrily as I offered them food again. It was clear by now they were starving, yet they still refused to eat. Everything was off. And then, just as I was about to head to the restroom to take a leak, something extraordinary happened. The large female was pacing, panting, and banging her body against the cage, circling the tiny kennel over and over. Then it began to spasm, uncontrollably shaking and hitting the pen as it began to howl loudly. Every hair on the back of my neck stood up as the male joined in her howl. The female kept convulsing, collapsing under the floor of the shelter even as it began to spit up some white and yellow mucus. Before long, I saw hair begin to shed off at an alarming rate and the howls were replaced with a sharp breaking of bones. The hound's body was beginning to change. Its hind legs were straightening, and its robust chest sounded like it was cracking and shifting to a small size. Next, its snout and face drastically transformed. The long-haunched look of the wolf now resembled that of a starved older woman, a human being with wild and scared eyes staring up at me. Holy shit! I said as I stumbled backward and realized the woman was almost completely naked. What the hell had I just witnessed? I kept my distance from the cage as I looked towards the others, watching as they began to transform as well. First, the male wolf shook and spat out some strange mucus from his nostrils and mouth, his teeth cracking and his jaw breaking as it reformed into a familiar human face. The two younger pups were the same. Their transformation seemed a little less violent, but in less than five minutes, I'd seen all four of them change into actual human beings. It was uncanny. And yet they seemed to still have the animalistic habits, snarling like the wolves they'd just been, and keeping their distance from me. Immediately, I offered my jacket to the woman to let her cover herself as the boys hunched in the corner. She was wrapping her arms around her body and insisting the focus be on her boys. Do you have a hot meal or warm tea, anything that's high in protein? She explained, I was still taken aback by all of this, and I had a thousand questions, but I complied with her wishes and warmed up some toaster strudels for them. As I gave the children their food, I watched both of them in stunned fascination as they lapped it up like animals. They were having a hard time reverting to normal human tendencies, I realized. How long have you been? I said stuttering shape shifters, werewolves or just monsters in general. The man said, as he leaned against the bars, don't remember. Each time we change, we lose a little more memory of our lives as humans. Eventually, we stopped changing back all together. He muttered. He looked like he wanted to snap me in two, simply for looking at his wife for even a fraction of a second. And you can't control the change. I asked, if we could, do you think we'd be spending our lives pissing on trees and eating skunk? The man snapped. He simply means to help. The wife offered. Her children were becoming upset at the raised voice of their father. My attention focused on them. Let me get you some clothes. We have a donation center in the back of the building. These kids shouldn't be having to eat on the floor and be naked. I said, surprisingly, the man seemed offended by this offer. You think that offering us some simple trousers and cleaning us up makes us like you. We will never be human again. The clothes you offer will simply be ripped to shreds the next time we change. And it's doubtful we will even remember the experience. This is our life now. He said, the wife nodded solemnly. Then I watched as the family began to howl in unison. It was an eerie and ominous feeling. But I wasn't simply going to brush aside accepting their curse as being fate. I told them I had to go make a few phone calls after the family refused to leave the cages. If we get out and hurt people, I'm not so sure I could forgive myself for hurting others, especially if we can't control it. Innocent blood shouldn't be shed. The wife explained, to be honest, I didn't really know who to call or how to explain it. So even after making a few calls to nearby science institutions and such, I realized I was still at square one. I guess I shouldn't have expected anyone to believe this. Who would? So I lied. I called my boss and I told him I had a bunch of very unique dogs that I needed help with to hold them down so that I could euthanize them. It was an awful lie. But I hoped that if someone else saw this family, it would make a difference. And I couldn't exactly just sit around and wait for them to change again. My shift would soon end, and I didn't want the next person coming in to just do the deed without being aware of what these people are. There was no telling when they might change. My boss said he would get there as quick as he could, especially since Stan had unexpectedly left. But it wasn't fast enough. The family began to revert back to their dog forms about a half hour after I made the call. No, no, you can't do this. I have to show them that this is real. I whipped out my phone to try and videotape the transformation, but the father lashed out from the cage and swiped it from my hand, cracking my screen. I wasn't sure if he intentionally prevented me, or if it was the beastly instinct taking over. Once they were transformed, though, it seemed that the werewolves were far more vicious than before. Did it make them hungry going through the shape-shifting process? Kevin showed up about 10 minutes later. These the mutts? He asked. He was clearly half-trunk, probably from a Christmas party, and I doubted he would listen to my explanation. But I had to try. There's been a misunderstanding. These aren't normal dogs. I started to explain as he got the supplies ready. Damn right, then. Look at how big they are. Were they been feeding these things? Kevin asked. No, no, you don't understand. These are like actual mythical werewolves, boss. I said. Of course, he looked at me like I was crazy as he approached the first cage. Oh, shit me, right? He said as he rattled the door, the large female reared its back, and her hair bristled again. She wasn't about to go down without a fight. Grab that rope. Kevin ordered. I considered my options. If I complied, I knew it was likely this entire family winding up dead at my hand. Even though I knew they likely didn't want to kill innocent people in their wolf form, surely it wasn't okay to murder them. I felt lost in a dilemma that I never anticipated. But my reaction was almost instantaneous. No, no, no, I can't. These animals can't be harmed. I said as I pulled him away from the cage. Kevin gave me a disgusted and disappointed look. What the hell you've been smoking? Do your damn job. We can't have large, vicious dogs in here when we're open for adoptions next week. He said I tried to reason with him, but he'd already opened the door to the mother's pen. I grabbed his arm again as he prepped the syringe, and in the same instance, the female leapt forward and bit at his ankle. The male rushed towards him as well, pushing the metal grating down. Holy shit, he said as he dropped the needle. He managed to pierce the father and the dog yelled, hunching back. I acted quickly, and I opened up the other cages where the two young pups were waiting. I stood there, paralyzed in fear that they might attack me too, as the wolves surrounded Kevin and nipped at his skin, covering him with scratches as they barked. Then they went towards their dying father. They seemed to ignore me entirely, or perhaps they respected me for rescuing them. They were watching as the medicine made the large male werewolf fall asleep, his mouth foaming, and his body convulsing. It looked like utter pain, endless agony. I'd never seen it happen like this before, but it reminded me of when people said they saw prisoners get lethal injections. Get the damn rope, Lance, before they get out! Kevin said. Instead, I opened the door and I let the dogs run free from the shelter. The mother werewolf gave me a look that I understood to mean thank you, and then she and her boys ran off. Meanwhile, my boss nursed his wound and gave me an ugly look. The male was slowly turning back to human. He looked at it in abject confusion and horror, still not comprehending what he was seeing, or perhaps refusing to accept it. Instead, he focused on me. You're done here. You hear me? I didn't really care. I couldn't even imagine the horror of letting them die, and it occurred to me that I felt the same about all the other animals in the shelter too. This cruel cycle had to stop. I wasn't sure how he was going to explain the dead body at the shelter, but I wasn't going to be a part of this anymore. Later that Sunday evening, I wrote up this account and pondered over everything I'd discovered. It was terrifying to have my entire world shattered. In fact, I was honestly reconsidering if the whole situation had ever happened. As I simply projecting my own anger towards the way that our society was tossing aside animals, the answer came late that night, a slam against my door. I peered through the keyhole and I saw Kevin standing there with hardly any clothes on. He looked distraught, confused, and his eyes were bloodshot and wild. You have to help me, Lance. You were right about those animals. He looked like he'd attacked something, maybe another person. Was he regretful over his treatment of the wolves? What happened to the body? I asked. He didn't know I was testing his response, but his answer sickened me. I had it disposed of and I managed to hunt down and get rid of those others as well. We can't afford to have bad press, not now. But this has to be stopped somehow, right? Please help me. He pleaded. As I saw him beginning to transform again, I felt my body go numb as he told me the others had been harmed. My efforts to rescue them were snuffed out. It made my entire soul feel hollow. Sure. I'll help you. I said, as I got a chain and led him by the neck into my house, I locked him in the bathroom as the transformation started to finish and block the door as best as I could. Then I made a phone call. Animal control? Yeah, I have a wild dog that got loose in my neighborhood. I've managed to lock it in my bathroom so it doesn't hurt anyone else. I think it's already hurt one person. I told the operator as I listened to the newly created werewolf slash at the door frantically. In my opinion, I continued. I think it needs to be put down.