The Support Group
“I hate this. Last week I ate my neighbor’s Chihuahua. She took it out in her yard to go pee. It was dark outside so she didn’t see me. I jumped the fence and grabbed it. I then shook and crushed the life out of it. Then I took it out to the woods and ate it. Awww man, he was a sweet little dog. I mean I don’t mean how he tasted. But I hate to admit he tasted great. Gosh he was a really nice little dog. His name was Bobbie.”
There were murmurs among the others in the group. They sat on two large couches, and half a dozen chairs. On the table was a plate of cookies and a bowl of popcorn. Everyone was drinking Diet Cokes and assorted craft beers. One large man wiped tears away with his hand. A woman handed him a tissue.
I continued. “I brought Bobbie’s collar to Heather. That’s my neighbor…Heather. I told her I found it in the field behind our homes. Her husband Ray died last year. Her kids are in college. Bobbie was her little companion. Oh I hate this.”
“You can’t blame yourself,” said Jack, our facilitator. “Just be there for Heather. This will be a healing time for both of you. Who wants to talk next?”
“I just have a quick comment,” said Lyle, a tall skinny young man with round glasses hiding friendly eyes. “The county animal shelter is having free adoptions all weekend. You should take Heather down there. I know it is soon, but it might help her and help some poor dog who needs a furrrever home. They can heal together.”
“Good idea Lyle, thank you,” said Jack.
A middle aged woman wearing a denim skirt and a red flowered blouse raised her hand. Her gray hair was waving over her shoulders. She looked sad and tired. I’d never seen her before.
“Hi. Thank you for including me. My name is Christy and I’m a werewolf.”
We all nodded and said hello, secretly eager and dreading what she had to say next.
~ end
Vampire Maman 