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by Frances Pauli

“He races, turns, loops back and realizes he is circling them. He is dog and they are pack. He is alone.”

The streets of men fall silent long before Charlie slinks from his master’s side. There is no movement in the house for days, not even when he cries or pees the carpet. No more breath lifts the man’s body, no life remains, and Charlie’s loyalty falters as his belly empties.

As the body begins to smell like meat.

He tears the screen from the bedroom window, squeezes out, and runs with silver strings trailing from his claws. The pattering echoes as he goes. No other sound competes with Charlie’s flight. No one shouts or whistles. Not a single car horn blares anger when he crosses the wide street and lopes past silent storefronts.

He scents as he runs, nose skipping along the pavement like a stone on water.  His ears swivel to either side, twisting and alert for any sound, for anything at all. He finds the first bodies after only another block. He smells them long before buzzing flies sound the alarm.

The people lay where they have fallen, twisted and with their hands open as if clutching something that isn’t there. Their eyes are wide and staring so that Charlie cannot help but growl. His throat rumbles at each dead stranger. The fur along his spine lifts and his heart beats, danger, danger.

He smells the flesh, sweet and overpowering, but there is a sharpness behind it. He cringes even while his tongue lolls. The man has not fed him for many days, will never feed him again. The people in the street all stare at the sky, and Charlie knows he is alone. He whines, lowers his tail to the earth and scoots far around the next, reaching corpse.

Now he clings to the buildings as he goes. The streets are choked with the dead, and Charlie rubs at his nose with one paw and shakes as if to dislodge the odor. He sits beside still glass and pants at his own reflection.

In the distance, a howl rises. His ears stand at attention. His tail thumps once before remembering to be afraid. His body cringes, belly tight to the ground, but he cannot stay away and slinks between the buildings with his ears tuned. Each time the sound comes, Charlie eases closer. He crosses streets, weaving between the dead. He follows alleys where the scent of garbage is a relief from the stench of decay. And more. The sharp odor troubles him. His nose flinches from it, insisting there is danger there.

Charlie finds the other dogs and wishes he hadn’t. He lingers at the alley’s mouth and watches them drift between the corpses. Their bodies are lean, showing angular bones beneath dull pelts. They had no master, have been alone much longer. Their hunger is enough to dare the smell. He sees it, in the curling of their lips and the dark stains growing over their teeth.

Danger.

He runs from them. Charlie darts from alley to alley, sticking to the familiar reek of cast-off human things and only entering the streets when the way ends and he must cross to the next slim sanctuary.  He hears the dogs’ snarling long after he’s left them behind. He sees their dripping jaws even with his eyes closed.

He races, turns, loops back and realizes he is circling them. He is dog and they are pack. He is alone. He has nowhere else to go. His pads brush against asphalt. His nose twitches. The garbage is fresher here, but there is something else behind it. A scent that is neither death nor rot.

Charlie stops and lifts his nose high. His tail swishes, wagging joy at the new aroma. He follows it, a better chase than circling the starving pack, a more noble quarry, and one that doesn’t push his belly lower.  The thread of something fresh and edible draws his feet between the buildings, up another alley to an open door in the rear of one storefront.

The smell lives here. Charlie slips inside without hesitation. His tail thumps against the door, wagging in anticipation. He creeps farther, following his nose while the smell sings to his belly. There are shelves inside, a maze of cans and boxes. There are glass doors along the walls, and in one corner, a bucket full of water.

Charlie drinks. His tongue uncurls and hangs soft again and happy. He finds bread on a low shelf, and whimpers before remembering there is no master. A pang of guilt still lowers his head as he steals the loaf. He still cringes as his teeth tear into the plastic, as he rips the bag with his claws and then eats both bread and garbage in his haste to be full again.

It is glorious. Soft and tasting of man’s things. Charlie eats two loaves before heaving.  He devours his own sick, drinks again, and curls up between the shelves to sleep.

When he wakes, the cat is there. She sits atop the shelf, glaring. When Charlie barks, she turns away, shows him her butt, and flicks her tail dangerously over the edge. It is a dare he doesn’t take. Charlie remembers cats. He whines and puts his paws over his nose, but his tail thumps. He is not alone. Even if she is a cat.

She ignores him. He pretends not to watch her. She catches him and hides behind the counter to punish him. She has food there. Charlie can smell it, but he knows better than to expect a cat to share. He eats the bread, tears open a few bags of dry crunchy things, and waits for the cat to come back and glare at him some more.

They live together in the store for two days before he wakes up to purring. His belly vibrates with it. The cat sleeps curled up beside him, hind end to his face and long tail tickling his muzzle. When his tail thumps, she slaps it. Pin claws prickle the sensitive skin but Charlie loves it. No one has touched him since his master stopped moving. He holds still as a stone and lets her sleep in peace.

Charlie lays his head on his paws and dreams of the master. The cat is back on her counter when he wakes, but he can feel the difference. Even when she glares.

They eat together, the cat behind her counter and Charlie picking from the packages he can chew his way into. They haunt the shop by day, the cat sitting in the front window and Charlie guarding the back door. He fears the other dogs now. Now that he has something to protect. At night the cat sleeps by his side, alternately clawing his tail and grooming him with her rough tongue.

The water in the bucket is gone, but there has been rain. He only has to wander to the alley to drink. Eventually, the shelves will empty. Charlie imagines leaving with the cat, finding another store, a full bucket and more bread. He wanders to the end of the alley when the puddles dry up. He finds the first dead dog there, eyes staring at the sky, paws stiff and reaching.

Charlie growls at it. His tail drags. The sharp smell is in his nose again, and he whines and paws at his face. He shakes, steps around the corpse, and ventures into the streets for the first time since finding the cat.

All the strays are dead. They lay beside the remains of man, a gaunt, furry echo of the other death. There are birds as well, corpses of crows and rats. The sharp smell overpowers even the scent of rot, and Charlie backs from it, turns tail, and races back to the shop’s shelter.

He barks for the cat, calls the warning over and over. Danger. Danger, danger.

Charlie races between the aisles. He knocks over the boxes. He barks, whines, and doesn’t believe the cat is gone until he peeks behind the counter. A stalwart white hopper stands above the cat’s dish. The kibble is all gone. The dish is empty. He sniffs to be certain, sits, and howls to the ceiling.

He remembers cats do not need a pack.

Though he is certain she will not return, Charlie waits in the store for three more days. His tongue dries up. His belly tightens, complaining so loudly that he wakes with a start. The hunger aches again and, eventually, Charlie slips through the back door and returns to the streets.

This time he runs without dodging. He leaps the corpses and he lets their stink drive him onward, down the long avenues between the buildings, down and away from the things of man. He races until his pads bleed, until the buildings finally spread their numbers. Charlie limps past little houses then, stalled cars, and fenced yards where the bodies have been left inside, where the stink is only a whisper behind grass and metal and, in the distance, the clear bright smell of water.

He makes for that, leaving the road when it veers sharply in the wrong direction. The grass feels like heaven and memories. He longs to roll in it, but his tongue is dry and the tears in his feet feel like fire. Instead, he crosses at an angle to the wind, keeping the water in his nose until he tops a rise and can see the glinting of the pool ahead.

A house squats behind it. A high chain fence surrounds it.

Charlie digs, churning his own blood into the soil, until he can squeeze underneath. He drags to the pool and laps at green water. His belly shudders. His paws leave pink tracks around the patio. He sniffs and catches wild odors, trees and dirt and animals that never lived inside a house with man.

Animals that have never eaten the sharpness that means dying.

In the shade of the house, Charlie rests. He drinks and sleeps until he is strong enough to think of food again. He imagines the shelves of bread, sniffing at the door that won’t open. He reaches and finds the windows closed.

When night falls, he hears the howling. This time it sings away from streets and houses. It calls from the space between man’s cities, and there are many voices. Charlie’s tail wags. He squeezes under the fence, leaves the water, and trots toward the trees. The howling drifts into the fringes of man, singing to his heart and making his pain and hunger fade like smoke on a steady breeze.

He is dog and that is pack. He bounds and barks and hears a new voice from much closer.

“Here, boy!”

Charlie skids to a halt. His tail dances, frantic, in all directions. The howling comes, but now it sounds far away. Almost as soon as he hears it, the whistle follows.

“Here, boy. Come!”

His tail dances, but he lowers his head and whines. Across the grass, a man steps between the houses. Beyond the trees, the pack sings another chorus. Charlie writhes against the grass, barks and presses his belly to the cold earth.

The man eases nearer. He stops and lowers himself until their eyes can meet. Charlie’s nose catches a forgotten scent, meat that hasn’t begun to rot. His tongue loosens, lolling between his teeth. His tail thumps and the man reaches out, makes the meat an offering.

“Good boy.”

He sniffs it, brings his nose right up to the man’s fingers and finds the sharpness there. When he flinches away, the man lowers the offering, tilts his head and whistles faintly. He drops the meat and waddles backwards, taking the odor with him.

Charlie eats. The meat is dry and too salty, but he salivates at the first bite and wolfs the rest down as if it were fresh liver.  Before he’s finished, the man is reaching again. His fingers curl more than they should. They smell of the sharpness, but Charlie leans into them just the same. When the man pats, the dog melts into him.

This is master. He is dog.

The man leads, and Charlie follows. They walk in the grassy space between the roads and the trees. The sun dips behind the city. A house waits at the edge of the wild. The door is open, and it smells of home inside, of life before the sharp scent ruined the world. When the man enters, Charlie’s paws move.

One step in that direction, one sniff, before he remembers doors are traps.

Charlie stalls outside that threshold. He barks, but when the man whistles, he presses his stomach to the ground and refuses to enter. The man squats inside the doorway. He sings the song of dogs and masters. He whistles, claps his hands, and brings more meat to the threshold.

They stare at one another until the man sits, dropping his head in his hands. Charlie rests his muzzle on his paws. He whines, thumps his tail. When the man throws him the meat, Charlie eats it. He longs for water, but the pool is in the past now, too. The moment, the threshold, and the man are everything.

In their stalemate, he hears the howling, far off.

Eventually, the man rises. He wanders deeper into the house and Charlie stands, tempted despite the closed windows and the door. He trembles. His ears flatten and lift and flatten again. Before he relents, the man returns. He pushes a chair through the doorway, drags the thing out of the house.

They sit together at the end. The master in his chair and Charlie at his side. When the man reaches, the dog leans in, savoring the contact but also noting the stiffness, the curling and tightening of fingers. He sees the way the man pauses every few breaths to stare at the sky, just as he hears the pack singing from the forest.

It won’t be long.

When the man is gone, Charlie will answer the howl. He’ll run, away from the streets of men, and live. Maybe he will see the cat again. She’ll glare from some high branch while his pack runs below. For now, Charlie remains. He sits beside the man. He waits while the sun sets. When the man stares at the sky, Charlie looks, too.

He hears the wind and the earth and the future while the man fades.

He is dog.

 

* * *

About the Author

Frances Pauli writes numerous novels and stories across the Speculative Fiction genres. She greatly prefers anthropomorphic characters, and you’ll likely find some kind of animal in just about all her fiction. She lives in Washington State with her family, a wide variety of pets, and far too many distracting hobbies.

Her fiction has won a Leo Award and been nominated for a Cóyotl Award.

For news and title updates, you can find her at www.francespauli.com.

Another artist we met at CTN Expo: Stacey Sleight from Provo, Utah, who creates under the name of Stillustrated. Besides her original illustrations, animation character designs, and fan art, she has also created an original on-line comic based on the Ursa Major Award-winning game Undertale. According to her web site, “She is also a lover of hot chocolate, comics, and animals in sweaters.”

image c. 2018 by Stacey Sleight

Ninja Sex Party has a new music video and this one has a Kraken!
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We've all had days like this. "Spyro is having a Very Bad Day™. Can he charge, glide and flame his way back home?"
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By now (hopefully!) you’ve heard of Brush: A Fox Tale, the award-winning CGI short film. It tells the story of an artistic fox who is too shy to tell the pretty vixen next door he has a crush on her — but, his paintings have ideas of their own. Well now, meet the creators: Willi Anton and Faustina Arriola, both graduates from the California College of the Arts. Brush was their joint graduation thesis. Over at Willi’s web page you’ll find his demo reel, showing bits from his work on Brush and other projects. Meanwhile at Faustina’s page you’ll find not only her demo reel of 3D and 2D work, but also examples of her illustrations, and even samples of her work as a voice-over artist.

image c. 2018 by Anton / Arriola

I really wish I could have gone to this but it fell right on to of our party and that thing is tricky to move.
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Chances are you’ve seen (or at least heard about) Dog and Squirrel, part of Nickelodeon’s Animated Shorts Program. But have you met the creator, Andrea Gerstmann? Over at her web site you can see examples of her other works in character design, background painting, layout, and fine-art painting. Lots of animal stuff to see, plus a few humans thrown in for good measure.

image c. 2018 by Andrea Gerstmann

Looks like Hulu has a Christmas toy mascot supernatural horror flick? Why the heck not?
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David Wentworth is an artist, illustrator, and storyteller (his words) that we me at CTN Animation Expo. According to his web site, “David has worked for clients like Dreamworks, Sony, and Amazon animation, and is advancing his career as a concept/character artist and comic artist. He creates in a wide range of mediums, both traditional and digital. In addition to animals he enjoys science fiction, writing, history, theatre, biology and languages in his art.” In addition to his illustration, he’s created an on-line comic called Blue & Jay which should be of considerable interest to Furry Fans. He even creates puppets!

image c. 2018 by David Wentworth

Roo and Tugs are taking Thanksgiving weekend off and will be back next episode. Instead, we’ve got new content (including a special edition of Fifty Sheds of Grey) alongside our re-broadcast of our Fursona Creation episode! ORIGINAL DESCRIPTION: Chris joins Roo and Tugs in studio to create his fursona, and go through the traditional (wink, wink) furry initiation ceremony. What sorts of insanity will he be forced to commit as he designs his fursona and joins the fandom? Tune in and see!

NOW LISTEN!

Patreon Love – Current as of Today!

The following people have decided this month’s Fur What It’s Worth is worth actual cash! THANK YOU!

 

Artorias Ichisake and Kit and Cody

  Rifka, the San Francisco Treat and Baldrik

Lokimutt and Guardian Lion and Dusky and Katchshi

Plus Tier Supporters

• Skylos
• Snares
• Simone Parker

McRib Tier Supporters

• Hachi Shibaru
• Lygris

Special Thanks

• Kira the Fox
• Fido the Cabit
• Cane McKeyton
• Hachi Shibaru
• Degen
• SARN the Xenomorph
• Bruce

Episode sponsor: This episode’s sponsor is Baumarius, artist behind the album The Truth.

Music

• Opening theme: Fredrik Miller– Cloud Fields (Radio Mix). USA: Bandcamp, 2011. ©2011 Fur What It’s Worth. (Buy a copy here – support your fellow furs!)
• Space News Music: Fredrik Miller – Orbit. USA: Bandcamp, 2013. Used with permission. (Buy a copy here – support your fellow furs)
• T’s Paws Button Music: Fredrik Miller – Lost Signal. Sweden: Bandcamp, 2014. Used with permission. (Buy a copy here – support your fellow furs)
• Closing: Fredrik Miller – Cloud Fields (Chill Out Mix). USA: Bandcamp, 2011. ©2011 Fur What It’s Worth. (Buy a copy here – support your fellow furs!)

S8 Episode 5 – The Best of FWIW: Fursona Creation w/New Content!

I do like to work out with cheese in my beak as well.
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Here’s something interesting and unusual we came across at the the CTN Animation Expo this year. Fox and Chicken is an original animated film created by Space Rabbit Studios — in El Salvador. “Created by a talented team of local artist, with national and international awards, Fox & Chicken is aiming to be the first silent animated short movie done in El Salvador. The project has already seen some success through many events at a national level.” According to the web site, here’s who it’s about: “Fox & Chicken is the story of two inseparable friends and their many adventures in their quest for magic. Fox is a young wizard apprentice who has a dream of learning all the magic in the world and to discover the secrets of nature to become a master wizard. Chicken is an unconventional character for their species. She’s brave, curious and adventurous, she never doubts on accompanying Fox in his quest. Now we can see their adventures while we learn about nature and discover the hidden magic in all things.” The web site has a lot more about this and their other projects.

image c. 2018 Space Rabbit Studios

Paptercutz brings us a new full-color mini-comic series for young readers: Gillbert the Little Merman, Volume 1 by Art Baltazar (writer and illustrator of Tiny Titans and Captain Action Cat). Here’s the preview over at their web site: “In the deepest part of the ocean, unexplored by man and too deep for humans to swim, lives a little sea creature named Gillbert. Gillbert the Sea Creature is the son of King Nauticus, king of all the oceans. One day, Gillbert will be king. But in the meantime, his playful curiosity takes him away from the kingdom on a journey of discovery.Gillbert meets an amphibious mermaid and follows her into unknown parts of the ocean. Where he meets many unknown and undiscovered species of underwater creatures. He didn’t know these things existed so close to home. Gillbert’s world just got a whole lot bigger!” It’s available at comic book stores in paperback and hardcover editions.

image c. 2018 Papercutz

It's November and you know what that means! Christmas commercials!!! "It’s nearly Christmas, which means the #HeathrowBears are back! Watch the new film to see our furry friends preparing for the festivities like you’ve never seen them before. "
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Bonus video for the holiday! I still am not sure how I feel about this. Contractually, I have to go see this when it comes out.
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Whandirlust, Aisha Gaillard’s first novel so far as I can tell, is a trippy rampage through the “trapped in another world” genre.It starts out with Rasheeda having the worst day of her life: first her attempt to escape her shitty life gets her shot up by her ex-boyfriend’s gang, then she loses her job as an underground stripper, then she is caught up in this bizarre storm full of dragon-like monsters. When she finally gets to the hospital, they put her in a drug-induced coma until somebody pays for her medical treatment, as is standard procedure in this world. She then wakes up on the planet Whandirlust in another dimension populated by animal-like aliens, her soul having been transferred to a scaled pseudo-feline creature referred to as a “fauxbird.” Apparently how the empire acquires new slaves. Put to work excavating a ruin, she accidentally awakens the monstrous elder god Salen, who kills her new owner and drops her on another part of Whandirlust, setting a pattern for the rest of the novel.I must compliment Gaillard on her worldbuilding and scenery, but the characters and plot leave much to be desired. The world of Whandirlust is colorful and unique, populated with a wide variety of species that aren’t simply humanoids or animal-people, but bizarre creations more akin to mythical creatures. Both the Empire and the Rebellion have sound motivations and methodologies, which turn a conflict that can easily get simplified into black and white into shades of grey. In fact, the monarchy is shown to enjoy significant popular support due to both religion and good old-fashioned panem et circenses, which is something a lot of popular writers have forgotten to include when explaining the longevity of their tyrannical regimes. Unfortunately, Whandirlust also includes a fair number of petty tyrants determined to do evil for evil's sake and do nothing to advance the plot.However, I found the characters more than a bit flat. Prince Fawxfire is the reluctant playboy heir to the throne, one of Rasheeda’s Neohuman friends thinks they’re being deceived by demons while another has bought into the monarchy’s claims of divinity, and then there’s Gage the charismatic rebel leader: they all seem rather one-dimensional up until the chips are down in the last big fight. It would have been nice to give them more characterization before then. Now, Rasheeda herself, her constant confusion from being suddenly thrust into a strange new world might be more believable than other “trapped in another world” protagonists who take charge of the situation after the first couple encounters. But she goes to the opposite extreme by displaying virtually no initiative of her own until the final battle. She just winds up somewhere due to Salen, or kidnapping, or following whomever she’s “befriended” most recently. What makes this worse is that in the first two chapters when she was still human she did stand up for herself and attempts to escape her shitty life, but the only times she shows initiative after leaving Earth are when she’s trying to keep her Royalist and Rebel friends from killing each other.In conclusion, I would recommend this book to people who appreciate good worldbuilding.

Penguins do have a hard time in achieving perfection in their cakes.    
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Sorry, so sorry… Banana Sunday is a well-know black & white comic created by writer Paul Tobin and his wife, the artist Colleen Coover. Now, Oni Press have re-released the full series as a graphic novel — this time in full color thanks to Rian Sygh. Here’s the press release: “Kirby Steinberg is having a bit of trouble fitting into her new school. Sure, there’s the usual problems associated with being from “somewhere else,” but this time the new kid also happens to be the guardian for three talking primates. Chuck, the professorial orangutan. Knobby, the love-stricken spider monkey. Go-Go, the befuddled golden gorilla. These primates have learned to speak, thanks to the scientific processes of Kirby’s father. Or have they? What’s their real story? That’s what Nickels—Kirby’s new best friend and unfortunately dedicated school reporter—would like to discover. Can Kirby find time to develop a relationship with Martin, the dashing nerd? Steer clear of Skye, the high school’s #1 pillar of arrogance? Keep Knobby, Chuck and Go-Go from causing untold catastrophes? And, above all, will Kirby be able to hide the real origin of these three simians from Nickels? Oh, probably not.” Bleeding Cool has an interview with the creators as well as lots of sample pages.

image c. 2018 Oni Press