So much to say about two little words.  Blue is my favorite color and, at the risk of sounding like a hippie, the wolf is my spirit animal.  Combine them and I am in heaven.  Growing up I did not have a lot of clothes and I am SO GRATEFUL for that now!  You know why?  Because they just don’t matter to me.  It is very freeing.  I generally tend to wear the same thing all the time and do not care.  Maybe some will judge me for it but I am happy and comfortable in my blue and that is all that matters.  When I think of Christmas my mind goes to blue and silver.  I pretty much wear those colors year round.  And yes, I see the irony, although I did not know it when I met my husband.  He is the eldest grandchild of the man who started the Dallas Cowboys.  I believe it was fate.  Wolves … where to start?  They are family oriented, apex predators, and a keystone species; witness Yellowstone.  They mate for life and it is unfortunate they have been vilified for centuries as they are really kind, gentle, and loving creatures.  I should know; I live with two.  They are 75% Canadian Timberwolf and 25% Siberian Husky.  They are family.  Any truly wild animal belongs in the wild.  My smart, kind husband is the one who made me realize our wildlife MUST have land left in which to roam — for the sake of us all.  I found this pictured above as a paid advertisement on Facebook and knew I had to have it!  How much better could it get?!  He now proudly presides over my office as I write.  The first Indian Minister of Law and Justice B. R. Ambedkar said this:

“Unlike a drop of water which loses its identity when it joins the ocean, man does not lose his being in the society in which he lives.  Man’s life is independent.  He is born not for the development of the society alone, but for the development of his self.”

I will never lose my identity because I have never blended in.  I want that same independent spirit of the wolf my father had, I have, and my husband has to carry over into our daughter.  I am and always will be a blue wolf.

Having light travertine floors with the wolfies is truly Sisyphean.  Of course in Greek mythology Sisyphus was condemned by the Gods to push an immense boulder up a hill, only to watch it roll back down; repeating this action for eternity.  Futile labor is a hideous punishment.  In our defense the floors were like that when we bought our house.  In fact our bedrooms came with oatmeal colored carpets (eek!) and thankfully after several years we had them replaced with “wood”.  It is a constant battle, as their paws are huge and they cannot help tracking in dirt and mud when they come back inside.  I have attempted to wipe their feet before they come in (picture attempting to wrangle excited small horses) and it has just gotten me knocked over and subsequently French kissed.  I’m not quite sure which is the most traumatic.  I have tried dunking their feet in a bucket of water to rinse off the dirt.  (So picture the first scenario but just add water which now I must clean as well because it, too has been toppled over in their haste to come inside).  I have even gone so far as to put socks on them but to no avail.  Then I got this mat thinking I was so clever.  (That should have been my first clue.)  It is big and lives in our laundry room placed right where they go in and out the most.  Oh the brilliance!  The microfibers and whatever else revolutionary and miraculous was going to catch all that dust, dirt and mud right when they reentered the house.  What I had not counted on is that their stride is so large they pretty much miss the mat in its entirety.  The British Labour politician Arthur Henderson once said:

“Therefore, let us not despair, but instead, survey the position, consider carefully the action we must take, and then address ourselves to our common task in a mood of sober resolution and quiet confidence, without haste and without pause.”

I have tried not to despair, I have surveyed the position, I have considered carefully the actions I must take, and I have attempted valiantly to address this almost Herculean task with the aforementioned sober resolution and quiet confidence.  Now I believe I am just going to sit back and take a pause from muddy paws.

My mother was hilarious and had a great vocabulary.  One phrase she used a lot was “a hair.”  It’s a Texas thing I suppose meaning a tiny bit.  For example, she’d often ask me to “raise the air a hair” which meant to turn up the air conditioning a little.  She’d also say “fire” for heat.  If you’re envisioning a heavy southern accent of some sort she did not have one.  Her speech was delicate and refined.  Just when I thought I knew all her vernacular she’d come up with something else.  She was so quiet very few people knew how witty she really was.  My mama was a treasure to me, my daddy, my husband, and our daughter.  Seeing this small pile of hair (yes, you read that right; this was nothing compared with the rest of it) I thought of Mama and smiled inwardly.  We had to take the wolfies in for their annual wellness check-up yesterday and our girl Cheyenne (who favors the husky side more in looks but the wolf side more in mannerisms) was blowing her coat — big time.  The poor thing doesn’t know what to do.  It should have been gone by now but because they’re indoors her body has kept it.  (We have it cold for them.)  In the wild they naturally shed their coats during the spring for summer and then grow them back again in autumn for winter.  Right now you can literally just touch her and chunks of hair come flying off.  The groomer was booked so the sweet vet techs decided to try and get a little of her undercoat out just with their hands.  It was horrifying and literally looked like some type of small animal had just been murdered in the waiting area.  I do not exaggerate when I tell you it was absolutely EVERYWHERE.  The wolfies do not have an odor of any sort so there were just huge piles of soft, beautiful, fluffy hair.  Some people actually collect it and stuff pillows with it, make plush animals out of it, etc.  The bracelet I cherish most was made out of my first wolf hybrid’s hair.  It looks like round beads in varying shades of gray.  I am so thankful for the person who was kind and thoughtful enough to make that for me.  I am reminded of the anonymous quote, “No outfit is complete without a little dog hair.”  Everyone’s scrubs at the vet’s — from the Dr. to the techs to the receptionist — were very, VERY complete.  And I was more than a hair embarrassed.

This afternoon the little one and I went in our local jewelry store to have the chain on her necklace fixed.  It broke during recess.  While we were waiting I noticed this bobble headed ring holder.  At night I take my rings off and usually put them at the base of this tree lamp on my night stand.  But then the darn cats bat them around because they like shiny things, and they’re mischievous.  So I was delighted to discover this wolf to hold my rings!  He’s not just cute; he’s useful.  I found myself thinking of the first breeding wolf pack in 100 years they have just discovered in Australia; ONE HUNDRED YEARS!  The wild gray wolves have, somewhat miraculously, returned to California for the first time since the 1920s!  And 30 years after the nuclear disaster in Chernobyl wolves are thriving in the radioactive dead zone.  I cannot say enough how vital wolves are to this planet; witness the return of Yellowstone.  But man must stop killing them at every turn.  It sickens and saddens me.  I tell my little one often that good always wins.  Saint Mary Magdalene was commonly believed to be a whore for centuries.  Recent history has revealed the vicious lie and she has been absolved, although many remain unaware.  In much the same way, I believe we have a long, world-wide, misguided history of hating and destroying wolves, once man’s best friend.  I pray they, too, are on their way to being vindicated.  The American writer Will Durant said, “Education is a progressive discovery of our own ignorance.”  Just last year a new species of wolf was discovered that had been hiding in plain sight:  Africa’s golden jackal.  I was thrilled to learn this and fervently want our wolves to be allowed to not only survive but thrive.  I live in hope for the discovery of more wolves:  both in places and in species.  Right now I am elated with my own new discovery … of a ring-tailed wolf.

I am not a particular fan of “steampunk” art.  But when I saw this wolf in a gallery I felt he should come home with me.  Of course I have always been known to take liberties and see wolves where there are instead cousins … such as coyotes and foxes.  I still see a wolf.  This clever guy was made entirely of used bicycle parts.  His teeth are made of gear chains, he has brake pedal handles for eyebrows, and there is even an old headlight switch on his forehead.  Real cyclists would no doubt recognize every nut and bolt.  So, although he is out of my usual genre, it is really no surprise that I was drawn to him.  Japanese fashion designer Issey Miyake once said:

“The purpose – where I start – is the idea of use.  It is not recycling, it’s reuse.”

From bicycle parts that once turned, to the artist’s ingenious imagination, a bunch of old scrap bits and parts have now been transformed into my Cycle E. Coyote.

This is Gubbio.  He presides over our koi pond and looms above St. Francis of Assisi, with whom it is said he once struck a deal many years ago in Italy.  If you look closely on his nose, you will see he has made a friend.  His total blackness is such a startling contrast against the all white stone of St. Francis whom I have pictured on another blog.  I love that there is always some type of creature or living thing thriving around him.  If it is not butterflies or bees it’s roses or ivy growing seemingly out of nowhere.  No wonder St. Francis of Assisi has been proclaimed Patron Saint of the Environment.  Hence why you see him so much in gardens, often portrayed with birds on his shoulders.  It tickles me when he is depicted with a weird looking dog.  That’s no dog; that’s a wolf.  I have blogged about St. Francis and the wolf before; if you do not know the story it is worth the read.  Anyway, around our house you will rarely find St. Francis without a wolf of some kind.  Someday I would love to have two huge stone wolves on either side of the front of our house, like you see people do often with lions.  English novelist Sarah Hall has said:

“We all have our preferences – some people go for birds – but for me, there’s just something about the wolf; the design of it is really aesthetically pleasing.”

Wolves are magnificent and, incredibly, STILL misunderstood creatures.  A visit to our house proves just how gentle, familial, and loving they really are.  There was another misunderstood wolf who redeemed himself and in the process became the stuff of legends.  On my list of places to go and see is a famous wolf — the wolf of Gubbio.

I have stated this before; I either find wolves or they find me.  In this case my little one and I were walking to Starbucks and I stopped right after I noticed this advertisement for frozen food at a grocery store.  It is clever and adorable!  From Paris to Dallas, San Francisco to Seville, Antigua to Alaska, Venice to Vancouver, and all sorts of places in between I have found them, or they have found me.  I have seen them on coins, ancient tiles, and tapestries; in statuary, murals, and stained glass.  I have bought artisans’ crafts from all over with wolves carved from gems, woven in baskets, and burned into gourds.  American essayist Henry David Thoreau once said, “It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see.”  I see a world with wolves, where they run free in the wild and are protected from trapping; where the only shooting allowed is from the lenses of cameras.  I see a world where they have families that strengthen our national parks and the whole earth both environmentally and economically.  A world with wolves — what a wonderful world indeed.

Our wolf hybrids love to play.  They especially love their squeaky toys.  The sad part for me is in seeing them destroyed … cute little bunnies, foxes, and raccoons.  Typically the toys have two squeakers each … one in the head and one in the tail.  Cheyenne and Dakota love to play tug-of-war with them and then they take turns chasing each other snatching the toys back and forth.  Recently my little one discovered the squeakers are no longer plain white disks; now they are making them into red hearts.  I find this cool and a little sad at the same time.  Their toys typically don’t last long but it is better than the alternative of them eating all our furniture.  A friend of mine actually patented some dog toys years ago and made a killing.  I have stated before wolf hybrids should not be pets.  They are high strung and require lots of attention.  But I have devoted over half of my life to them and I understand them.  Australian filmmaker Tim Cope said:

“Perhaps most important for nomads was the belief in the symbiosis that existed between wolf and humans on the steppe.  Wolves were an integral part of keeping the balance of nature, ensuring that plagues of rabbits and rodents didn’t break out, which in turn protected the all-important pasture for the nomads’ herds.”

Wolves have been vilified for centuries and thankfully man is finally starting to understand again their gentle nature and the critical role they play in our environment as both apex predators and a keystone species.  There is still so much to be learned from them.  They must be protected and preserved … and allowed to play.

On a whim, “Santa” bought me a darling stocking stuffer no middle aged woman in their right mind should probably have.  Infer from that what you will.  It is a baby wolf that howls and my little one aptly named her “Howler.”  Really the baby wolf toy is hers.  Actually, really the baby wolf toy is now the wolfies’.  They have loved her and appropriated her from the beginning, and even my little one understands they seem to need her.  Unlike their “kill” toys, they ever-so-carefully place her in their mouths and carry her from place to place.  Interestingly, it is Dakota who is meticulous about grooming her.  He sort of chews on her with his huge teeth like she’s a corn on the cob.  Cheyenne likes to sleep with her and I wonder if she has filled a parental need for them.  After all, wolves are VERY family oriented and highly social.  American author Jodi Picoult said this:

“I woke up one morning thinking about wolves and realized that wolf packs function as families.  Everyone has a role, and if you act within the parameters of your role, the whole pack succeeds, and when that falls apart, so does the pack.”

I’m not sure whether Cheyenne and Dakota are acting in their traditional roles but they each compliment the other in their nurturing of little Howler.  In our house I’m the techie and Burk does the dishes.  They may not be the traditional gender roles placed upon by society but they work for us.  My roles do not make me less feminine and Burk’s make him no less masculine.  Our little cub is learning her place in the world and finding out what role she is destined to play in it.  Mama and Daddy along with her wolfie brother and sister are her pack; and she has the strength of the pack behind her always.

Defenders of Wildlife Senior Northwest Representative Suzanne Asha Stone has rewritten what is in my opinion the greatest rendition of “Twas the Night Before Christmas” since its inception.  It will now always be a revered part of our Christmas tradition and I hope perhaps yours as well.  I am grateful for her generosity in allowing me to repost her work.  Happy Howlidays!

The Wolves’ Night Before Christmas

‘Twas the eve before Christmas
And to Santa’s dismay
Came such an icy storm
The reindeer couldn’t budge his sleigh.

As Santa paced and worried
And elves began to scowl
‘Rose a song through the wind:
A wolf pack’s mighty howl.

From the thick of the storm
O’er deep snow on big padded feet
Came eight silvery wolves
Ice and wind could not beat.

Santa’s mouth hung open for a blink
As the wolves lined up in front of his sleigh
Then he sputtered to the elves
“Well… let’s be on our way!”

Santa thanked each wolf
As the elves finished loading the last gift
Then he sprinkled them with fairy dust
Chuckling, “That’ll give you the lift.”

“They won’t believe this in Idaho..”
He laughed, a merry twinkle in his eyes
Then the elves harnessed the wolves
And they took to the skies.

On Lightfoot! On Blacktail! On Windswift! On Howler!
On GreenEyes! On MoonSong! On Hunter! On Prowler!
The wolves’ eyes glowed as they leapt through the storm
Santa wished his own coat could keep him as warm.

That night the wolves even taught Santa to howl
An ancient song filled with hope for Peace and Joy
That this season may bring for all Life on Earth
As they left special gifts for each girl and boy.

‘Twas that eve before Christmas
Santa will always fondly remember
When wolves rescued his mission
That stormy December.