A longtime companion of mine had a male wolf-dog as his 14-year companion. I can affirm that the words “pet” and “ownership” are not in the wolf-dog vocabulary.

Cía was half Belgian or Austrian Shepherd and half wolf. He looked all wolf, except for his massive chest. Gold eyes that glowed in the dark, massive ruff and tail and that particular three-layered coat that sheds any kind of moisture or cold and leaves area rugs all over the house!

I am grateful to have known and loved Cía. And, it is so absolutely true that these animals should not be considered to be “pets.” Cía was attack trained, much to the chagrin of the German trainer, whose specialty equipment was shredded by the {ahem} dog’s jaws. Cía had a wicked sense of humor and loved to scare unsuspecting humans. At our first meeting, I was one of them.

I leaned against my partner-to-be’s van, unsuspecting, when a huge shaggy head emerged from the passenger side window, all fangs and snarls. Lip curled back, ready to lunge. Glad I’d just used the loo, I jumped back, only to see Cía wagging that huge tail and laughing, his tongue out one side of that huge mouth. He was shaking, he was laughing so hard. That was how we met. It was love at first sight.

I can report that male wolf-dogs are still, largely, wolves. They dig ten-foot pits in the garden, just because it has to be done. They howl at the moon and other interesting occurrences, like the daily fire truck run in the Berkeley hills. The neighbors were so pleased… AND, they are loyal to a fault, extremely protective, and I could not have had a better guardian when camping, traveling, or alone in the house.

Oh, that time my parents visited, and, despite the smell, he felt they were intruding? We won’t talk about that. My Dad did need to change his trousers.

Here’s to loving the wolves…and not breeding them for situations unsuited.