While we talked, she climbed on the table, then the top of the couch, chewed on my hair, began eating my notebook, then played with the coffee cups, then squatted to pee, then lept at the blinds and pulled them down.
The wolfdog, 75% wolf reportedly, was gorgeous and brilliant and virtually unstoppable. The two that I remember best were both adolescents: a four-month old living in an upstairs apartment with a young couple who got him because, well, they were idiots and didn’t have a clue what they had taken on. I’ve met a few wolfdog hybrids as a consultant. I am positive that there is a message in his face, I just can’t say that I know what it is. Bits is on a leash only because he is about to be vaccinated and have blood drawn to check for tick-borne diseases, and for one brief moment he looked directly at me and I snapped the picture. Jayne and Mike figured the wolfdogs would be stressed already by the veterinary work, and that one more person wouldn’t make a difference. I got to meet Bits only because it was the day of the annual veterinary visit at Grey Wolf Rescue. And heartbroken, because wolfdogs should break everyone’s heart. Maybe not, but I hereby admit to being thrilled to be in the same room with him, and was absolutely overwhelmed by his beauty. Maybe it was because I did lots of look aways, yawned a lot, avoided eye contact and kept my voice down. It made me happier than I can say that after two hours after I arrived in the house he relaxed enough to lie down only a few feet away from me, albeit with a table between us. He has been living with Jayne and Mike Belskey at the Grey Wolf Central Wisconsin Rescue for two years now, having been rescued by them as a panicked, huddled, terrified mess from a shelter. He is drop-dead gorgeous and is flat out terrified of strangers.
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