The Wolf at my door...and on my couch

"Chistmas": once more on hold. For the nonce, let us skip forward to when I was all grown up and married with a two-year-old daughter of my own. Pa n Ma acquired a wolf-dog; part Labrador and part wolf, whom I had the honor of naming "Loki" after the Greek god of mischief. At first I was leery about introducing Melis to Loki. Wild animal (A) + small child (B) = (C): dinner for A. But Pa assured me that all would be well. By this time, I realized that the older I got, the smarter my dad became, and I figured I could trust his wisdom regarding his only grandchild meeting the Big Bad Wolf Who Was Really A Big Lazy Lovable Lab That Wouldn't Even Chase His Own Tail For Fear He Would Catch It. But still...
I open the door. Melis runs in, straight for Loki, arms outstretched. Loki sees Melis. Loki yelps, runs to the bedroom and hides under the bed. I look at Pa, he looks at me, we burst out laughing so hard I think I peed a little. I snatch Melis onto my lap to get HER calmed down because she was ready to dive under the bed after the doggy. Slowly, carefully, the Big Bad Lab Who Would Be A Wolf pokes his head back into the kitchen kinda sheepish like and slinks over to sniff my daughter. Evidently finding her acceptable into his pack, he hesitantly nips her poofy jacket (okay, I wasn't totally convinced re: Pa's judgment and tried to put as many layers of clothes between skin and fang) and tugging gently, leads my precious baby off my lap and over to his toy box. She was then allowed to climb all over him, pulling ears or tail, poking her tiny fingers into his mouth in search of the wet, slippery tongue that bathed her face whenever it had the chance. Loki responded with an audible sigh that conveyed either contentment or patient resignation. Maybe both. A great friendship was born that day, as well as a great curiosity about all things Wolf. After much research, I decided that one day I would have one of these wonderful creatures for my own. After the kids were grown, of course.
So thirty years later, I am the proud (at times, exaspirated) guardian, companion and alpha bitch to a wolf-dog. Miakoda, whose name is Cherokee for "power of the moon", is considered F5 - about 75% wolf. Her sire was F1, 90% malamute. Her mother, 100% timber wolf. Loki, in comparison was probably F1, or 20% wolf. And yes, the correct term for the cross is wolf-dog, not hybrid, since the cross isn't between two different animals. Genetically, less than .2% seperates wolves from any breed of dog, even poodles (who look like they share more genetic material with sheep) or chihuahuas (who may have bred with rats at some point in evolution...). The facts the general public doesn't know about wolf-dogs could fill volumes, but the most important is that a person can never "own" one. Much like cats, they choose to be with someone. They are gentle, shy, wary of anyone not considered part of their pack and extremely hard to train. They are not aggressive by nature. Wolf-dogs have the median intelligence of a three-year-old child, they never forget anything and are stubborn beyond belief. You must earn their trust and respect; in turn, you will have theirs. Even then they'll prefer the company of other dogs to humans. I'm convinced they think people aren't good enough for them. Not so wrong, actually. They rarely bark, but howl often, sometimes because they're lonely, sometimes because they're happy and sometimes just for the sheer hell of it. But you can find out more online if you're interested. The personal stories, you'll have to look for in my blog. There will be a few.
Back soon, Muoooowwoo!