Zombrainoia

Okay, maybe it's not such a good idea to be reading Max Brooks's World War Z just before taking the dog out for her late-evening walk on a dark & snowy night...

Took the Weewolfe out for and decided to go through one of our more traditional routes, which involves walking down a short, dark, dirt road in order to connect to the next neighborhood over from ours. A quick little bit of back-story on this road is that it is closely surrounded by thick trees, which overhang the road, giving it somewhat of a dark sense even in the day time. Tulip and I have affectionately dubbed this stretch of our dog-walking routes as The Tunnel [cue images of Gollum discussing the passage through Cirith Ungol, precious].

Anywho... to get back on track: just as we were entering The Tunnel, the Weewolfe decided to go bat-shit crazy, barking and staring off into the line of trees that sweep downhill from us towards the Douglas Highway. Not a big deal, as she tends to bark at deer, which we regularly encounter along this stretch this time of year. If she'd have tucked tail and turned around without so much as a whimper, I'd've known there was a late-season bear out and about and turned around with her.

A couple of coercive treats later, we were back on track and easily passed over to the next neighborhood to where we were coming into the glow from the houses. Suddenly, she decides she's going to plop down on her but and stare very intently back the way we've come. Great, one of the other dogs in the neighborhood must be loose and the Weewolfe's going to feel aggressive tonight. I start fumbling in my pocket for treats and looking back down The Tunnel for whatever's buggering her.

The "whatever" slowly starts to take form and I can see something dark and low against the snow detaching from the dark. It's definitely not a dog and is too big to be a cat. A late season bear afterall? That's just great as I'm loaded to the teeth with smelly, yummy doggy treats and bears out this late without hibernating are notoriously aggressive for any last bits of food they can scrounge.

I start trying to move the Weewolfe but she won't budge. If anything, every time I try to shift to wave a treat under her nose and draw her more off to the side, she shuffles towards the "whatever" and re-plops her but.

Okaaaaaaaaay... The "whatever" has now grown taller and taken more form of a person. Not normally a big deal in the dark and snow; however, this person is walking with a rather shambling gate, leaning stiffly to one side, and I probably don't have to elaborate the first thing to go through my mind and raise my over-imaginative hackles. I'm thinking back to her going bat-shit back at the other side of The Tunnel and how, in the book, dogs would go crazy when zombies were near.

And, all the while, the Weewolfe sits there intently waiting for us to be the next serving of Zombie Chow until the figure finally draws close enough to be recognized as a young lady, wearing sneakers in the snow, and sliding on the snowy road while carrying a heavy backpack.

Next time, the dog can damn well fend for herself if she wants to wait until the zombie gets up to us.