“There are ones who belong to you… but you are not of… age or size to enter the pack. Please don’t search for them… Stay with your Marle—” She didn’t have the strength to finish my name.
Romy stood by his mother’s side as her eyes closed.
I numbly sat on the ground at the cave entrance and watched as the moon shone down on Romy, caressing his loneliness as if trying to blanket him from such devastating pain. Romy rolled his shoulders back as he faced the sky and then painfully howled into the night.
As young ones do, Romy and I soon gave in to our exhaustion and fell asleep, clutching each other the only way wolf and child can. His soft winter coat gave me all the heat I needed for my human body to survive the chill.
I didn’t wake to the man rummaging around in the woods with a flashlight, not even as he approached the cave. I woke to a growl I’d never heard before that sad night.
My eyes opened to see Romy standing protectively over my body.
With a flashlight shining in my eyes, I could not see who was frozen in fear, but I soon knew who it was when I heard, “No! Don’t hurt my daughter.”
I tried to get to my feet but was challenged with a wolf over me. “Daddy?”
Instantly, Romy stopped growling and lowered his head, letting me up.
“Marlena, please don’t move. The wolf will hurt you.”
With my hand on my wolf, I said, “Romy? He would never hurt me.”
My father’s jaw dropped. “This wolf is your imaginary friend Romy, the Roamer?”
I nodded proudly, smiling. “Look! He’s real!”
His hand shook as he gestured to me. “I see that. Come to Daddy, little girl.”
I ran and jumped into my father’s arms, noticing he was not as warm as Romy, but loving his embrace never the less. My father hugged me tightly as he sighed.
“Daddy, Romy’s daddy is dead like his mommy. He needs to live with us now.”
“Little girl, he’s not a dog. H-he’s a wolf—”
My father struggled to hold me, but I squirmed out of his arms and ran to Romy. I stood in front of my wolf with a scowl on my cold face. Pointing a tiny finger to my father, I scolded him. “Romy is my best friend, and that was his mother.” When I looked at her, I was shocked to see Mother Wolf in wolf form again. But then I remembered she was probably trying to protect Romy’s secret, as she had asked me to do. “A-and he is now all alone. He needs me!”
I suppose my father would have agreed to anything to have me back in his arms. “Okay, little girl. Just come back to me.” His blue eyes watched me, anxiously waiting.
Back in his arms, I learned my father had no intention of taking a wild animal home with us, and there was nothing I could say to convince him otherwise.
Being forcefully carried away, I cried, screamed, and sobbed for my friend. Back at the cave, Romy howled. He had just lost everything, including me.
At home, my mother tried to soothe her hysterical child in the bathtub. Soon, she gave up and tried putting me to bed. It was so late, and I was so tired that my body surrendered. Only my pink lamp on my night stand was lit. My white floral quilt was tucked over my lightly trembling body. I continued to cry quietly as my mother caressed my head.
Romy still howled in the distance.
“Everett, is he getting closer?” my mother, lying in bed with me, whispered to my father.
He looked out my second-floor bedroom window to our backyard. “Yeah, sure sounds like it.”
That was when I remembered his sense of smell. My Romy was going to find his way to me.
When my parents went to sleep in their bedroom because I’d smartened up and faked falling asleep, I grabbed my blanket and pillow and snuck down the stairs, headed for the back porch of our simple log cabin. I had the only bedroom upstairs. My parents slept downstairs in the front of the house.
At the bottom of the stairs, I checked for the scary creatures of the night, but all I saw was a dark living room to my left. Only a light glow remained in the fireplace. To my right was our small kitchen, where I could usually find my mother, and our cozy eating area. Ten feet in front of me was my destination—the back door.
It was a humble home, but enough for a hardworking man and a stay-at-home mom to live very happily. My father was proud and loved his little family with all his heart.
I adjusted my blanket and pillow to prepare for my sprint and took off running, my bare feet pitter-patting on the old wooden floors. At the back door, I hesitated. Well, it was dark and scary, but when I tippy-toed and looked through the door’s window, I saw my furry friend sniffing the back porch steps. I hesitated no longer. I snuck outside quietly to a sad wolf that seemed to want to be by my side, but apparently wasn’t trusting the unknown objects I called stairs. I had to coax him to me while he sniffed each step, the blue flowerpot, and the bristly mat as though everything was foreign to him.
I guessed it was.
Soon, he calmed, and we hunkered down for the night. With my back to the outer wall of my house, I lay down on my side. Romy curled in front of me with his head on the pillow we shared, and I snuggled to his furry back after covering us both with my blanket.
After finding Romy and me on the porch sleeping together three mornings in a row, my parents felt they had no choice. Romy was officially welcomed to the family and became our… dog—well, wolf.
My mother was as reluctant to allow an animal inside the home as the animal was to come into the home. He sniffed and kept his tail down, debating whether or not it was safe. I looked around and realized Romy had never seen a house before. He knew nothing that belonged to humans other than what he saw with me, which was, well, just me.
I knelt down in front of the stairs that led to my bedroom, being patient during Romy’s examination of the open back doorway. Gray eyes stared at me as he stayed on the porch and sniffed and sniffed. I smiled and waited and waited.
Romy stopped sniffing, looked at me again, and paused. Time seemed to slow as we stared at each other. Something Romy saw made him cross the barrier and enter my home—now our home—and lick my face.
My mom protested that evening, but I won, and Romy got to sleep in bed with me. He hated the blanket, but I was stubborn, and he waited until I fell asleep to crawl out from underneath the heated cover.
People should follow children’s examples and live without worry, love and appreciate everything around them, and most of all, accept what has transpired and move forward. Romy was the prime example of such courage.
The next morning, it was still dark when I woke with no Romy in my bed. Sitting up, I saw a sad wolf sitting by my window, staring into the woods. I wondered what he hoped to see. I thought of his mother and knew how sad I would be to not be able to see my mommy anymore. Remembering my Uncle Trey passing away a few months before, I knew what we had to do.
With a blanket and a shovel that was bigger than I was dragging behind us, my wolf and I went deep into the woods to bury his mother.
Romy ran to her and sniffed the wolf body that no longer carried a soul. I tried not to pay attention to the evidence of how nature works, the marks of smaller animals finding a meal. She was very heavy, but I managed to get the blanket under her. I grabbed one corner, Romy bit the other, and we both pulled as hard as we could, dragging his mother to where the earth was softer so we could lay her to rest.
While I used the monstrous shovel as best I could, Romy lay with Mother Wolf. I believe he wanted every last moment he could have with her, alive or dead. As the morning sun rose, the glow made Mother Wolf look as if she was peacefully sleeping, half covered in a blanket. It was a kind way for a son to see his mother for the last time.
Being so young and small, I could only dig a shallow grave. Once done, Romy and I pulled on the blanket and laid his mother to rest. The little mound o
f dirt covering her was all there was left to see—but not to feel. Romy sat next to the mound, not ready to leave her, so I sat next to my wolf and waited for him to find some peace. I don’t know how long we sat side by side, leaning on each other, and it didn’t matter. I would’ve stayed next to him forever.
Chapter Three:
Let a Wolf Be a Wolf
I used to love the zoo until I could see how terrifying it was for a wild animal to be introduced to things he had never seen or heard before. All Romy knew was the forest. Imagine how high he jumped when my mom used the blender for the first time or my dad turned on the TV. Even with such obstacles, my mom was soon amazed at how Romy behaved with me. He followed me endlessly.
“Everett, look.” She pointed to Romy walking in front of me as I headed down the stairs. “It’s like he’s making sure to be there if she falls.”
“I’m telling you, Amelia, he was protecting her in that cave. Never seen noth’n’ like it.”
My mother learned the error of her ways when she bought regular dog food for a wolf. I would sit next to his bowl, trying to get him to eat, but he would refuse, putting his snout in the air. “Mommy, Romy thinks this food is stinky.”
When my dad came home from work, he looked at the bowl and laughed. “Amelia, you’re trying to give a wolf Kibbles and Bits?”
Maybe every little girl sees her daddy this way, but my father seemed larger than life, stronger than an ox, and completely in love with my mother, the tiny homemaker with country grit and a bite that left marks if needed.
She stood in her apron with her hands on her hips. “Well, what the hell am I supposed to do, Everett? Go shoot a deer for him?”
My father thought about it then opened the back door. “Romy, go get your dinner.” My mother and I watched Romy run out the door and into the woods. My father shut the door and shrugged. “Let the wolf be a wolf.”
They were words he would come to repeat quite often.
I was so worried that night, waiting by the back door for my Romy. I didn’t know if he’d ever hunted on his own before. Does he know how? Will he starve? Will he get lost? Will something eat him? But I had nothing to worry about, because when I stood on the back porch and called out to him, a distant howl was his way of telling me he was fine.
Later that night, as soon as my wolf came running to the back door, I opened it, and he sprinted into my open arms. “He’s home! Romy made it home!”
My father was on our old couch, watching TV. “See? Let the wolf be a wolf.”
“Oh, Daddy. His belly feels bigger.” I touched and examined the protruding stomach.
“Good, Romy. Ya just saved me some cash.” He looked at my mom, who snuggled next to him. “Could you imagine how expensive it would have been to feed him as he grows?”
“Grows?” My mother went pale.
“Romy was still with his mother. He has to be a pup.”
My mother stared at Romy sitting quietly while I continued to poke and prod his distended belly. “How much bigger, Everett? He’s already got to be eighty pounds. He doubles Marlena’s size and weight.”
And he always would. As I grew, he grew.
That night, I insisted Romy take a bath with me in our upstairs bathroom. My father came up to check on me and froze when he saw bubbles sticking to gray, matted fur and a tiara on Romy’s soaked head. “He’s a princess, Daddy.”
My father shook his head and walked to the stairs, mumbling, “Poor guy. Let the wolf be a wolf.”
The next morning, I woke to delightful licks from my furry friend. My mother was putting clothes in my drawers. She scrunched her face. “Oh, Marlena, that’s horrible.” She liked her home clean and her child free of germs.
I just smiled through the tongue swipes. “Mommy, Romy’s just giving kisses.”
Romy adjusted so well to his new environment that I thought it was time to play. My father sat on the dilapidated couch, trying to relax after work, when a blur ran in front of the TV. Then I ran past, hot on the blur’s trail. “Romy! I said, put this dress on!”
My father would go back to his old TV with an antenna on top, saying, “Poor guy. Let the wolf be a wolf.”
When I pulled out sparkly makeup, somehow my father thought it was dinner time and opened the back door. The traitor, Romy, ran outside, minus the lipstick I was trying to apply. My father shut the door, mumbling, “Let a wolf…” as he sat back down. I opened the door and hollered for Romy then stood at that back door, tapping my angry foot. Again, his far-off-in-the-distance howl told me he was fine being a wolf.
Once, Romy brought home his dinner while my mother cooked us dinner. I opened the back door, and in came Romy, dragging a stinky, leftover coyote carcass. Romy proudly laid his catch—or steal—next to his bowl. I think he wanted to be more like us.
My father glanced over from the couch and whispered, “Oh shit.”
My mother turned from the stove and screamed.
And she kept screaming.
“Everett! There is blood all over my floors. I JUST MOPPED!”
My father dragged out the dead, bloody animal. I was sure both he and Romy had their tails between their legs. My father whispered, “Romy! We’re buds! Ya trying to get me killed?”
Romy lowered his head, following him out the door. I guessed that was his apology.
The new school year started, and Romy and I had a very hard time separating, or I should say, my mother had a very hard time separating us. The first day, she dragged me kicking and screaming to the bus stop, which was our front yard, with a whining wolf in tow. When I got on the bus, it was already full with no empty rows, just empty spots next to students, who, for some reason, did not want the snotty-nosed brat who just caused a scene at the bus stop to sit next to them. I was about to turn and high-tail it right back off the bus when I heard a boy ask, “Is that your wolf?”
He had short blond hair. I sniffled and nodded, not willing to elaborate.
“Cool.” He moved over for me to sit next to him. Reluctantly, I took the seat because through the bus window, I could see my mother waving her finger at me. Her stern look told me to sit, or I was gonna get a spanking. I decided the blond-haired boy couldn’t be worse than a sore hiney.
“I’m T. Well, Trevor, but T for short. That’s Jimmy.” He pointed to a little boy with orange hair, sitting in the row in front of him. “We call Jimmy Hound ’cause his daddy says he’s the best tracker there is.” I couldn’t understand why Jimmy wasn’t just called Jimmy. It was what his mommy’d named him. And T? That made no sense either. I was going to call him Trevor.
Jimmy/Hound—who could barely see over the back of his seat with his pretty green eyes—waved to me. “You want to go hunt’n’ with us?”
I didn’t wave back, nor did I answer.
T/Trevor asked me, “What’s your name?”
That was when I saw Trevor’s chocolate-brown eyes, and since I loved chocolate, I shyly answered, “Marlena.”
“Nice to meet you, Marlena. Hound and me are in first grade. What grade are you?”
“Umm, kindergarten?”
“Oh,” was all he said.
That concerned me. “Oh?”
Trevor took a deep breath. “The big K can be rough, especially for someone as puny as your—”
As my ‘puny’ arms crossed my ‘puny’ chest, my angry face told Trevor I might be little, but I bit. I tried tapping my angry foot for emphasis, but my legs were too short, and it couldn’t reach the floor of the bus. So my angry foot stayed mid-swing in the air, flapping around aimlessly.
Trevor laughed, putting his palms up in surrender. “Whoa! Never mind. I see you can handle yourself.” He looked out the window as we drove down the dirt road. “No wonder that wolf likes you.”
That comment made me stop and think because ou
r friendship—Romy’s and mine—came so naturally I’d never given a thought as to why or how. Did he like me because I was a handful? Because I was one of the only humans he knew? Then I got to thinking about Romy’s secret—now my secret too—and I knew I’d never tell anyone at school about it.
If Mother Wolf was part human, I assumed chances were high that Romy was too, and she had asked me to help him. I decided that everything I learned at school would be Romy’s lessons at night. And that is exactly what I did. My father would just shake his head when I pointed to a book and made Romy focus. My mother would hush my father, saying it was good for me to reinforce what I was learning.
The school schedule ended up working out the way my mom had promised. At school, I had my human friends, Trevor and Jimmy, and at home, I had my furry one, Romy. Trevor and Jimmy were a grade above me, so I only got to see them during recess and at lunchtime, but I liked them. They accepted me, unlike the girls in my class. I was a tad tomboyish for their liking.
I quickly learned T was captain of the monkey bars, and Jimmy was co-captain. I appreciated their need to lead and admired them for that. This somehow caused me to become the third wheel, and the duo became a solid trio. Trevor took a special liking to me, so no one dared mess with me on the playground. Unbeknownst to me, I found this attractive, and began to grow a crush on the alpha named T.
Lunchtime was when and where I shared my food with Trevor because when Trevor and Jimmy would come over to play, and Trevor wanted some of the snack my mom made us, a growl would quickly remind Trevor who the true alpha of my backyard was. Romy.
I would shrug to Trevor and give what food I didn’t want to my wolf.
Other than that, Trevor and Romy were fine together. Trevor, Jimmy, Romy, and I would run through the woods, playing hide and seek or any other game I could think of. I was a little bossy, and in T and Hound style, they appreciated it.
My Wolf and me Page 2