The last morning we walked in Tennessee's Cocke County, we started in the Wee'hours, at 3:30. On Sunday morning at that time, the drinkers and the night patrol are all who prowl the highway. We had walked almost twenty minutes in the dark when the first auto to pass was Cocke Counties finest. It took him a second after he passed to register what he had seen. The exelerator stammered a bit before he applied the brake to turn about.
To make this little tale short, I'll cut to the chase.
He said he had a wolf. They nicknamed him Wolf-man. I could see it.
He said the were several officers on his police force who were diabetic and maybe more activity would help more than one.
Not trusting a dog named Nice, he frisked him.
He asked us to be careful, after we both commented on the car that passed, without slowing or noticing the police vehicle stopped in the opposing lane.
I did enjoy Tennessee.