One of my favorite Werewolves, I've ever done..

...Back when I was little, the ol' timers said that they were some runaway coon hunting dogs that lived out in the Kessler's swamp. Said that the ghosts of some old Indian Medicine men took 'em over, turned em bad, CHANGED 'em somehow, like werewolves.
Always ran in a pack, they said, lost deer dogs, one-eyed, mangy strays, three-legged coyotes that had chewed their way out of a trap, throwaways....

You could hear 'em, out baying in the night sometimes, howlin', huntin' along the river for whatever hunters has lost his way back from his stand....

Farmers always blamed those dawgs when they had chickens disappear, and that swamp was never any good to hunt. Always SMELLED bad, like something rotten...maybe that's why they liked it down here, who knows?
Jimmy Wages claimed to have shot one rummagin' through his trash, says it was carrying off a dead possum, loped off into the night like it wasn't in TOO much of a hurry...