From Numb to Wolf Mamma

Years ago I was crawling my way out of a dark depressive episode when...

It is 11:15 am and the wolf has already peed, pooped (3x) in the house, broke out of her crate, and rammed the dog gate down.  Although to be fair the dog gate isn't her fault.  She has enough points against her, I'll take that one away.  She is a TOUGH dog.  She is the sweetest angel that ever existed, but she has separation anxiety, chewing problems, and she seems to be constantly under the weather.  I am honestly at my wits end with how to potty train her.  She is going the vet this week so we can rule out any medical issues.

I mean don't get me wrong, even if she pees in the house  the rest of her life she is still my girl and she isn't going anywhere.  She came into my life when I was down for the count, and from the looks of it so was she.  Do you know how I found her?  Well let me tell you the story...

We got Bentley (my sister's puppy) on a Friday, the next morning at around 5:30 he and I were going for a potty run.  I turn around in the still navy blue morning looking at a pair of orange eyes, and something cagey walking toward us.  Needless to say in my infinite calm, I freaked the fuck out, flung Bentley onto my shoulders and threw him in the house.  I turned around and saw a very friendly albeit rough looking dog!  I called someone at the back barn, assuming she belonged to someone there so they could come get her since Bandit (our family dog) is a chicken, and I didn't know Bentley well yet.  They laughed and said no one was here... so it wasn't their dog. I shrugged and assumed the dog would go home.  We get a lot of animals passing through because of the farm's open layout and land.  They usually just wander right on past.  About an hour later, Mr. Pee Pee machine needs to go out again and he starts tracking.  I'm sure you know where this is going. We end up walking around the wishing well, through the field, to the old oak trees, and then... he tracks his way right into a giant wolf lookin mutt!

I throw Bentley into the portable pen, because as we now know, my panic response is SWIFT AF.  This stranger jumps on me and licks my face.  Okay, it seems we are at the very least, not in any immediate danger.  I call for Lina at home, she comes out, also gets jumped on and licked, then sails baby Bentley to safety.  I sit there looking at her.  She's pretty... but scraggly... but truly quite a striking dog.  I heard her into the pen three sizes too small and snap some pictures of her.  The nomad lays down tongue out, exposing her belly with no hint of a survival instinct.  I sit with her and think about what to do.  So I post!  I post on my wall, on a friend's wall, and on every local group I can think of.  I sent her picture to every horse trainer I knew and waited.

And Waited.

Nothing.

It is now about 7:00 am and I have a wolfy friend.  Her big white teeth hang exposed as her head lays on my lap and she takes what looks to be a much needed nap.  She is so trusting, and it breaks my heart a little.  Assuming this collared kissing machine has a family, I call the humane society and they come to get her.  We wait together, and I feel a pang of guilt knowing she is going to be taken somewhere far less comfortable than the yard.  Nonetheless, all signs point to a dog whose been lost for a long time, but clearly has a family.

So we wait, she naps, and I fall in love. Oops.

The animal control driver is as sweet as can be to her, but she is terrified.  The once happy go lucky wanderer is now an alert and terrified squealer.  She pees out of fear when he goes to pick her up and load her into the truck.  She reacts seemingly out of knowing... and I begin to wonder what her life is like at home.  Several hours go by (okay maybe 2) and I call to check on her knowing full well I sound like a stage 5 clinger.

"Hi, I called about the pick up of a large brindle shepherd mix this morning... I... well, I was wondering uhm... how she, is... I guess?" I fumble because talking on the phone makes me queasy, and because I'm sure I sound like a lunatic whose attached herself to yet another stray in this world.  The tired sounding woman assures me she is fine and inquires why I want to know.

"Are you interested in adopting her if no one picks her up?" she asks inquisitively, and probably hopeful the shelter hasn't become the permanent residence of yet another sweet dog.

"Yes!" I blurt out immediately because I have no self control and it just hit me that I have a feeling for this dog.  Which is rare, I never have feelings for things anymore, so I pounce at the chance to feel again.  I need her I think to myself.  We connected, and I need her back.  I regretted calling the humane society, but it was the right thing to do.  So now, I play a waiting game, hoping her family doesn't want her, knowing full well that is a selfish and terrible wish.

We visit her a couple of times, she is scared, quiet, but friendly as ever... perhaps a little aloof.  Turn the clock forward... seven days go by and no one wants her.  No one comes to claim the friendly monster that snuck out of the bushes.  I'm in Boston at a conference and convince my mother to go visit her.  She comes home from the visit with adoption papers.  She gets spayed, and we go pick her up.  I am practically leaking oxytocin as I look at my new love.  It's pouring rain and she pumps the breaks when she sees the car. Between my sister and I, we move one leg at a time into the car... squishing her boney little butt in as carefully as possible.  Meanwhile she is itching to escape, willing to go home with just about anyone not driving a car I imagine. But she went home with us.

Home is here and I've prepared a new bed, bowls, and doorless dog den. Thinking of everything I possibly could to make her comfortable. I think she remembers me because she follows me willingly. That is, until we get to the door. Another hard no for the day and I wonder if she's ever been in a house? She looks at me and then the house, I sit with her on the step... soaking in the rain. I try to bribe her with food... no dice. This is fear motivated. She's too shy to tell me she's cranky so she stands stark still instead. Eventually she gives in and follows me into the house. We go straight to my room where I have all her new things. A nice new bed just for her. She looks at it... gives it a good sniff as dogs do and then casually lays down to sleep... on the bare floor. 

Over the next few hours I just sit there and let her exist. I try to coax her onto my bed but she eyes me suspiciously like it's a trap. Brave as ever though she climbs onto the bed. Once she's sure I'm okay with it, she lays down. That first night she slept right next to me one pay on my back and one on my face.

So yes weeks later she pees, and whines, and cries, and hates the car.  She is hard to train, and possibly deaf in one ear.  She is emaciated, came home with pneumonia, and sheds all over the house.  She is a far cry from an easy dog.  We found out she is only a year old.  So her problems are far from over.  Her submissive nature, and potty problems suggest of a dark past.  Scars indicate a cruelty I will never understand.  I don't think she's ever lived in a house before to be honest. Her soul is now mine to protect though, and I welcome it.  In fact I need it.  Our silent trauma bonding is as loud as can be.  She sleeps quietly on my legs and wraps a paw around my arm so I am stuck.  Unable to abandon her.  Eventually she will know that through thick and thin we have each other, but for now... I will clean up her pee with love and remind her how amazing she is every time she remembers to go outside.