A Practical Guide to Werewolf Ownership

 Sadly, Nyx hasn't been back to babysit the sock monkeys for a little while now. I think it was just too much cute for her poor cynical teenage heart to take. She was last seen at the local mall waving her fist angrily at Hot Topic for their My Little Pony display.

I've been doing the monkey wrangling myself lately, which means I didn't have much time for going out and taking sock monkey photos. However, I'm trying to be good to my April Fool's Resolution (what? you don't make those?) and I'm posting a short story I wrote that's barely seen the light of day as well as some older sock monkey photos. I hope this will be entertaining enough until I can get some more monkeys made and photo shoots done.

A Practical Guide to Werewolf Ownership

"Happy Halloween," Carrie said as she plunked a stuffed animal down in front of him.

George picked up the animal and looked at it critically. It was a wolf-man dressed in the typical ripped pants and shirt open to reveal a furry, but muscular chest. Sewn to its hands was an orange sack that said "trick or treat" in square black letters. Inside the sack were candies: a clear, sealed bag of candy corn, and a few mini candy bars. Carrie had been thinking of him and added the candy bars. George hated Halloween, especially the candy corn bit.

Little George, the very first werewolf I ever made.

"Thanks. Sorry, but I didn't know Halloween was a gift giving occasion. I have some candy for the trick-or-treaters if you would like that," he offered.

Carrie shrugged. "Don't worry about it. Every holiday is a gift giving occasion in my family. I saw him and I had to get it for you." She sat down opposite him at the small kitchen table. "You're doing it again," she said.

"Huh? Oh, sorry," George said giving his head a good shake. When they had first met, he couldn't stop staring at her. Their first date she finally snapped and asked him what she had on her face or in her teeth. There wasn't anything, George stared because she was there to stare at. If prizes were given out for understanding girlfriends, Carrie would have won the Nobel.

"It doesn't work like this though," George turned the little wolf-man around so he was facing her. Whoever had designed the toy had put effort into making it just the right mix of human and wolf, and it was dead wrong. About the only thing that hadn't gotten wrong was the goofy look on the toy's face, but George guessed it was a coincidence.

"It's supposed to be a full moon tonight- I'll compare you and Little George then," she said taking the little doll and making it "kiss" George on the end of the nose.

"Little George?" He asked, unsure which was worse- being kissed by a doll or having it be his namesake.

"Why not? He looks just the way I imagine you would...transformed," she replied handing Little George back to his larger counterpart.

Sirius the Sock Werewolf...
I was much more experienced with werewolves the second time around

***

George set Little George on a high shelf in his small bedroom. Carrie really thought actual werewolves looked like that. He couldn't blame her for it. Little George was the classic movie werewolf right down to his orange plaid shirt. Why was it always plaid? George wondered to himself, looking down at his own clothing. He wore a pale blue sweater and black jeans. The sweater, like Little George, had been a gift from Carrie. She thought it complimented his gray eyes.

Carrie had excellent taste in clothing, George had to give her that. Most of his clothing prior to meeting her had consisted of cheap, brandless clothing. Things that he never felt bad about throwing away when they eventually were too chewed to be wearable. George loved the sweater, and just to be safe, he took it off, folded it carefully, and placed it on the same shelf as Little George.

"Ha! We don't all wear plaid. I don't even like plaid," he murmured to the doll. It just sat, with no change in its goofy expression.

Goofy expression... just don't tell Sirius that!

George blushed as Carrie knocked softly on the door. He hoped she hadn't overheard him talking to a doll of all things. Knowing her the way he did, she would probably think it was cute. They had been together for just about a month. Not long enough for George's charms (the human ones at least) to have worn off.

"I hope this isn't a no-no, but I got something else for you too," she said entering, and pushing aside a pile of blankets on his bed so she could sit.

"You know, Halloween isn't a gift giving holiday right? You don't have to buy me stuff all the time," he replied and shook his head at her. She still hadn't realized that he was the lucky one and not her. If only she knew she was the first one not to laugh in his face or call him crazy. All the girls had before when he explained the reason for the dog food, chew toys, dog bed, and extra large cat flap on the door but mysterious lack of pets to use them. Carrie had laughed sure, but she hadn't walked away or left in a huff.

She had thought he was joking when he first told her, but when she saw he was serious that laughter soon gave way to questions. The sight of a well chewed (and therefore loved) stuffed mailman toy was enough to convince her that he didn't change into a blood thirsty killing machine once a month. George had turn to laugh at the idea of him being considered blood thirsty. He was sure once she saw what being a werewolf really meant, she would understand. Human or canine, there was nothing about George that was "blood thirsty." Once the big question was out of the way, the rest were easy, and Carrie came up with a plan. She was sensible like that, and it was one of the things George liked best about her. She wasn't one to panic or lose her head, even if her boyfriend changed into a canine once a month.

"I know, but I thought tonight was special, it being not only Halloween but the full moon too." She pulled a bag out from behind her, and George's ears picked up a faint squeak. "If it's a bad idea, I'm sorry, I'm still learning the rules."

He took the bag and peered into it. Not only was there a yellow, ducky shaped squeaky toy but there were a few small bones as well. "You got the kind with with squishy centers? I love those!" The full moon wasn't far away, but he was still lacking a tail to wag, he had to settle for throwing his arms around her.

***

"Nine o'clock, you won't forget right?" George asked as Carrie did her best to fasten the collar around his neck. It had a large brass dog tag on it with not only George's name, but his "lupine registration number". Something she hadn't had a clue existed until she had met him. It made a jingling sound as it hit against the magnetic tag that would let George in and out of the cat flap.

“Don't worry, I won't forget. Nine o'clock, I put the food out,” she answered.

“I won't have thumbs you know. If you forget I'll have to dig though the trash. That's fine for the night, but I'll be sick all week after,” George said, fiddling with the collar. Even in his human form the regulation stiff blue collar with its brass disc was irritating and he had the urge to try to scratch at it with his hind leg. He hated it, but it was necessary. Without the collar he ran the risk of ending up in the dog pound with strays that didn't turn back to human the next morning.

“I won't forget,” Carrie said standing on her tiptoes to kiss him on the forehead. “You'll be a good boy and stay in the yard right?”

“No promises, but I'll try to remember,” George answered, kissing her on the top of her head. He would try too, but all canines have a natural instinct that tells them exactly where the holes are in fences.

Still fiddling with the collar, George checked the clock on the living room wall for the hundredth time. There were only a few minutes to go, and the closer he got to the changing time, the more his stomach seemed to twist. His fiddling with the collar became more frequent, since he had nothing much else to fiddle with. Once transformed, he wouldn't be able to undo such things as belt buckles and buttons. His only choice would be to chew through the clothing around him or take most of it off before hand.

Carrie sat on the slightly collapsing brown sofa and flipped through a magazine. With the time of transformation so close, he could smell that she was anxious as well. He didn't need a canine sense of smell to tell him that, he would have been able to see that she was anxious just by the way she flipped through the pages of the magazines.

“You know I'm harmless right?” He stopped pacing and stood with one hand still around the dog tag.

Carrie looked up from the magazine and smiled. “I know. I don't think highly dangerous werewolves wear boxers with the Cat in the Hat on them.”

George opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by a loud buzzing noise. The alarm clock in the bedroom had finally gone off.

It was time. He had only a few seconds of humanness left before he would be stuck as a canine for the rest of the night, and possibly into the next day. There was only one thing to do. “Love you,” he said kissing Carrie for one last time as a member of the same species.

Before Carrie could say anything at all, the changes started. George felt little things changing all day- scents become stronger, sounds louder, but it was finally time for the big ones to happen. He crouched on the ground, the easiest position to go from two legs to four in.

Teeth that had been slowly rearranging themselves all day became more aggressive in their approach as his jaw lengthened. His rounded, human ears started to migrate towards the top of his head, while growing longer at the same time. His fingers shrank back into his palms, and those in turn shrank themselves, while thick pads arose from the remains of his hands. His feet underwent a more severe transformation, as his arms and legs rearranged themselves to fit the animal structure.

George closed his eyes and braced himself for the worst. It always started slowly- just an itch here and there, but intensified. Millions of individual hairs were pushing themselves to the surface of his skin. He couldn't help it, he scratched at anywhere his claws would reach, but itching would only end once all of the fur had reached its proper length. Aggravated growls emerged from his throat as he tried to chewing the itchy places along his back.

Sirius, hanging out in a graveyard.
Photo courtesy of Tria.

***

Carrie sat and watched George, trying to scratch at the emerging fur. He had warned her that it wouldn't be a pretty sight to watch, but she had stayed just so that she could say she had seen a real life werewolf transform.

George hadn't been exaggerating when he said what happened in real life was nothing like the movies. There was a little bit of growling, but she hadn't heard a single howl once. He didn't look anything like his namesake Little George either. There was nothing half human-half wolf about him.

Carrie held her hand in front of her mouth to stop from laughing. She had thought that once transformed, George would go from his normal, quiet self, to a crazed lunatic. The change was complete though, and George stopped scratching at the fur, and turned his attention to the collar, trying to push it over his head with his back feet.

Carried wanted to laugh, but she wasn't sure how much George still understood. “Stop,” she said instead, and the animal that was her boyfriend, but in canine form, looked up at her and barked happily. “Oh George, you could have told me. I wouldn't poke fun at you.”

The “wolf” barked in response again, and wagged its long white tail. Carrie had been expecting him to look like a hybrid, or maybe even a regular wolf. She had to try not to laugh again as she looked at George poking his entire head into the bag of treats she had left on the couch. A few seconds later, and his head emerged with a stuffed yellow ducky grasped firmly in his teeth.

Carrie had to try to stifle a laugh again. George laid down and started chewing the toy in front of her. He had floppy ears that ended in pompoms of white fur, a rounded, arched snout, and a high arched back. He looked as if he had rolled in piles of cotton balls and they had all stuck. Carried couldn't help it, she laughed as the dog barked and growled at his new toy. Carrie finally understood why George had laughed when she asked if he would be dangerous. Of all the different types of canines he could have turned into, she would have never guessed it would be a Bedlington terrier.

Bedlington Terrier: The new face of the werewolf.
Photo courtsey of... somewhere, I don't remember it was years ago.

Sock Monkey Monday: Sock Monkeys Save The World!

It sounds silly, but I really believe that on more than one occasion, sock monkeys have saved me. The first time, it was when I was incredibly sick and in the hospital. It's a bit of a long story, but I was so sick I couldn't *do* anything but lay there. I couldn't talk, I couldn't even breathe right on my own. For the first couple of days, before the doctors could figure out exactly how to treat me, they had me in my own room. Mostly just in case I had swine flu. I didn't have swine flu, so after um... some number of days that I don't remember at all, they moved me to a more public "room" in the geriatric area of the hospital (this is because I needed so much care, I'm not *that* old).

I'm not ashamed to admit that I was scared. I was scared I wasn't going to make it out of the hospital, that I wasn't going to be able to move on my own ever again, and because I was on morphine, I was having HORRIBLE nightmares all the time. This was bad enough when I was in the bright, sunny room of my own. Once I was moved, there were a lot of people around me. All very sick as well and requiring lots and lots of care. What I remember most though, was the woman immediately adjacent to me.

I don't remember much, but I do remember when she was awake, she was yelling, throwing things, and when medication time came around (which it did frequently in that ward), she would scream. The nurses were all EXTREMELY patient with her, and did the a pretty exceptional job of trying to calm her down. Every time this happened though, I would be roused from my morphine induced nightmares into reality that was even more confusing. I was TERRIFIED, but next to me were Eli and Sirus, my sock monkeys. I'd cuddle Eli and while I would still be scared, it wouldn't be quite so bad.

It's hard to explain how something made of a pair of socks, a bit of stuffing, and some thread can make everything seem not so bad... but whatever it was, Eli monkey was there for me to snuggle just when I needed that most. It's harder to be scared when there's a cute, smiling face looking at you.

Every day I'd ask when I could go home, and every day the nurses would tell me "well get you out of here tomorrow." It was almost a week's worth of tomorrows before I could go home, but I did get out of the hospital. I wasn't back to normal, that took several months*. For a while, everything was a mess, then a friend (the wonderful Ninja Muse) asked me to do a photo project with her. I agreed, but not being a photographer, I just took photos of Eli and Sirus as they had different adventures. This was in December, so when Christmas rolled around, I knew I had to do something big. Something cool. Something with more than just two sock monkeys and whatever other stuffed animals I had around the house.

I needed MORE MONKEYS!!!

To me, this is when I really started to get better. My body had been... not normal, but acceptable for months, but my life was broken and I didn't have a clue how to fix it. I have my Ninja Muse and George (as well as Eli and Sirus) to thank for that. It took me about three months before I was willing to let one of my monkeys out into the world. Mostly because when I first started making them, I didn't know how to sew. I started with a sad little $20 sewing machine because I didn't think it was something I COULD do.

I'm stubborn though, so I kept at it. I kept thinking "Grannies have been making these for decades. I'm going to figure this out damn it!" Eventually, Ninja Monkey (the very first Ninja Monkey) was released into the wild. Well, he was sent to live in the care of Imaginary Ninja, who needed a muse because hers just wasn't working. Sock monkeys make very, very good muses, when THE Ninja Muse isn't available that is!

Now, I'm very much better. I'm healthy enough that I can do the things that I want to. My life still isn't perfect, but it's good enough. It's not BAD by any means, just tough sometimes. Thankfully, it's now the normal, I can deal with this type of difficult. I still have the sock monkeys to get me through the hard times. Now, I'm sending out monkeys on a regular basis to help put smiles on other people's faces. I make a lot of monkeys to be auctioned off at charity events. I wish I could give a monkey to every kid who really needs a pal to bring along to the scary places. I still bring Eli and Sirus with me when I have to go into the hospital for things. When I was in the recovery room after having surgery, one of the nurses said "OH! the sock monkeys-- over that way," when one of my family members was coming to see me.

Being a sock monkey maker wasn't in my life plan, but even with the bad things that had to happen to spark that to happen, I'm glad it did. I don't generally think about how sick I was back then, or how worried I was when I started getting dozens of calls from collection agencies on the bills**, that stuff is all in the past. In fact, the place where I was working closed down (not because of me, it was a big corporation decision thing). I miss the people I used to work with, but now, I can focus on just making monkeys to make people happy.

Best of all, now I get to do things like make monkeys to help other people, I can do fundraisers, and things like that and know that Monkeyville is doing the same thing for other people that it did for me. I have the word "phoenix" tattooed on my arm in Chinese because even though I crash and burn, I always seem to make it through. I think someday I'm going to have to get a monkey tattooed on the other arm.

I was thinking about this because in the past few months, I've made a lot of monkeys (and other sock animals) for different charities, but also because when people meet me in person, they're usually very surprised to find out that I don't have a background in art at all, but biotechnology. When people ask how I ended up making sock monkeys of all things, I usually tell them about Eli and Sirus being there for me when I was sick.

I've never actually considered the monkeys art-- they're toys, and even the fanciest monkeys I make are still toys. They're still good at cuddling, still good at being brave in the face of doctors with needles and scary tests to be done. Yep, even the zombies and skeletons I make are cuddly. If they're art at all, then they're art that's meant to be cuddled, not just collected.



*Though some weird side effects still remain. I'm physically incapable of screaming for instance.

**It was uncertain for a little while if I was going to have to pay these or someone else. After about four months, it was decided that someone else was responsible for those. I still got the calls for a long time though.

Sock Monkey Monday: Eli Has WORK To Do!

Okay, my grasp of what day of the week isn't fantastic since I haven't managed to find a new day job. I thought yesterday was Sunday for sure, and that wasn't helped by the fact that allergies have mostly kept me in the house, itchy, sneezey, and covered in hives. Stupid pollen. This time of year always ends up in hives for me. The only time I could go out and not worry was when it was pouring. Sorta takes all the fun out of spring!

However, while I've been trapped in the house, snuggling my bottle of Benedryl, I've been observing what the monkeys have been getting up to. Poor Eli Monkey, he had finals last week*.

Can't talk. Studying. 

I'm not sure if you can see, but I was nice and let him borrow my Justin Bieber notebook to make notes in. I don't have a good reason to have a notebook with a Justin Bieber sticker on it, it's for a novel I'm working on. Really. 

As the week went on, the studying got pretty hard for Eli. He was up late lots of nights, there was lots of coffee involved, and dinner consisted of "whatever could be pulled from the freezer and zapped" easily. 

 Can't talk...ZZZZZZzzzzzzzzZzZZZZZZZZZ

He kind of reminds me of myself (and everyone else who's a writer) during November** Lots of coffee, lots of papers strewn everywhere, and lots and lots of post-it notes. I've also more than once fallen asleep in front of my computer as well. It's a bit embarrassing to admit, but if I write in bed, I often wake up later cuddling my computer. 

Sirus monkey helped keep Eli properly caffeinated and when things got a bit too much for Eli, Sirus made sure that Eli got some rest. 

 Shh!!! Eli needs his rest!

Sirus Monkey is clearly, a very sweet monkey. He tucked Eli in and let him sleep, but made sure to get him up in time for his very last final the next morning. I'm sure that Eli has made his sock primate brethren proud!

*Eli Monkey is the first sock monkey to attend college. We're quite proud of our smart monkey!
**National Novel Writing Month. Squee!