WOLFDOG

When Wolfdog was a puppy, he was very cute and fluffy. He was taken from his mother and given to a boy for a pet one cold and snowy Christmas.

The boy was too lazy to give Wolfdog his food and water every day or to brush his coat. Wolfdog was kept outside. He grew out of his fluffy coat and was not cute anymore. He was sad and very lonely and he whined.

“I can’t stand that dog’s noise,” the lazy boy’s mother said, “Get rid of it.”

When Wolfdog was put in the car, he jumped up and down and ran round in circles. He was so excited. He thought he was going somewhere fun.

Then in the middle of nowhere, the car stopped. Wolfdog was pushed out and the car drove away. At first, Wolfdog thought it was a terrible mistake. They had forgotten him! He ran and ran as fast as he could to catch the car, but it disappeared out of sight.

Wolfdog stood and howled. He howled for being alone in the middle of nowhere. He howled for knowing that his family had never wanted him and he howled for feeling totally lost now.

Then he began to walk. He walked until his feet grew sore and he limped. He limped into a small town on the edge of the sea and there he learned to be afraid.

When he was a puppy he had learned to be sad and to whine. Now that he was grown, he learned to be afraid and to be very quiet. His eyes were watchful and his nose was keen. He knew where to find scraps so that he wasn’t always hungry and he knew the streets where he could not walk because people would throw stones and shout, “Go away Wolf!”

Wolfdog did not know what he looked like. He did not know that he was thin and rangy as a wolf with ice-blue eyes and people were afraid of his teeth.

  

His eyes had a constantly hungry look, but he was not starving for food. He was hungry for a kind look or a pat on the head. If a person were able to give him a pat on the head and a bowl of water, he would guard that person with his life. His loyalty was like the blood running in his veins. His heart belonged to one person. But he could not find that person.

At the top of the village at the end of a winding road, was a small house. Inside was an old woman as twisted and bent as a stick. She had a garden full of herbs that she used for medicines and so she was strong and her eyes were bright. Her hair was white and wild as a bird’s nest and so the children would say, “There goes the witch.”

“She’s not a witch,” one girl said, “She helps people.”

“Well, she looks like a witch,” a rude boy said and laughed.

And the children did not know that the old woman’s heart was sore when she heard these words and that she was terribly lonely and sad.

And then it happened on that very rare day when the old woman came into town to buy some groceries. She had hardened her heart as usual, expecting the cruel words. But she did not expect to see Wolfdog, standing alone and silent, watching with his ice-blue eyes, pretending to be invisible.

The old woman looked into those eyes and he looked into hers. She saw him. She actually saw him! And for once he did not see anger or hatred. He saw her eyes grow soft and his ears pricked up. He still waited while she did her shopping. He waited till she came back outside and then he trotted a few steps closer.

He did not hear anyone or anything else. He was intent on following that soft look.

The old woman walked, stopped and turned around. Wolfdog was still following at a distance, ears pricked up, one foot lifted, waiting, scenting the air.

She walked and stopped and looked. He followed, stopped and waited. He did not know. Would she grow angry? Would she throw stones? Would she shout? His ears moved this way and that, sensitive to a whisper.

The old woman reached her house. She opened the door and went inside, but did not close the door. She came back outside with a bowl of water and set it down on the step. Then she stood waiting with that soft look in her eyes that he thought might be kindness. Then she went inside. But the door was still open.

Wolfdog hesitated. He remembered being a puppy. He remembered being hungry. He remembered the car and the great nowhere. He trotted closer and before he knew it, his tongue was lapping up great slurps of cool water. Then, totally unprepared, he felt the gentle pat on his head. Wolfdog’s heart dissolved. He grinned. But the old lady was not scared of his teeth. She could see the truth behind his ice-blue eyes. She patted him again and Wolfdog knew. This would be his home. He lay down on the step and regarded the world before him.

“This person is mine,” his eyes said, “And I will protect her with my life.”

And his heart said that he had never known the joy of being a puppy. So sometimes on summer days, he darts to fetch a stick on the beach or charges at the water. He jumps back and forth and barks; a joyous sound that he never heard before. He runs and snaps at the moths on moonlit evenings and chases his tail to make the old woman laugh.

But mostly he eats his food, laps his water and lies on the step with a great sigh of contentment for the pat on his head and the love in his heart.