And now:Ish <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> writes:

>Date: Sat, 16 Jan 1999 20:19:12 -0500 (EST)
>X-Sender: [EMAIL PROTECTED]
>X-Mailer: Windows Eudora Version 1.4.4
>From: [EMAIL PROTECTED] (Wanita Sears)
>Subject: Lone Wolf Story...have kleenex handy
>
>>  Lone Wolf
>> 
>> With all her big brothers and sisters off to school, our ranch became a
>> lonely place for our three-year-old daughter, Becky.  She longed for
>> playmates.  Cattle and horses were too big to cuddle and farm machinery
>> dangerous for a child so small.  We promised to buy her a puppy but in the
>> meantime, "Pretend" puppies popped up nearly every day.
>> 
>>  I had just finished washing the lunch dishes when the screen door
>> slammed and Becky rushed in, cheeks flushed with excitement.  "Mama!" she
>> cried.  "Come see my new doggy!  I gave him water two times already.  He's
>> so thirsty!"
>> 
>>  I sighed.  Another of Becky's imaginary dogs.
>> 
>>  "Please come, Mama."  She tugged at my jeans, her brown eyes pleading,
>> "He's crying -- and he can't walk!"
>> 
>>    "Can't walk?"  Now that was a twist.  All her previous make-believe
>> dogs could do marvelous things.  One balanced a ball on the end of its
>> nose.  Another dug a hole that went all the way through the earth and fell
>> out on a star on the other side.  Still another danced on a tightrope.
>> Why suddenly a dog that couldn't walk?
>> 
>>  "All right, honey," I said.  By the time I tried to follow her, Becky
>> had already disappeared into the mesquite.  "Where are you?"  I called.
>> 
>>  "Over here by the oak stump.  Hurry, Mama!"
>> 
>>    I parted the thorny branches and raised my hand against the glare of
>> the Arizona sun.  A numbing chill gripped me.
>> 
>>    There she was, sitting on her heels, toes dug firmly in the sand, and
>> cradled in her lap was the unmistakable head of a wolf!  Beyond its head
>> rose massive black shoulders.  The rest of the body lay completely hidden
>> inside the hollow stump of a fallen oak.
>> 
>>    "Becky," My mouth felt dry.  "Don't move."  I stepped closer.
>> Pale-yellow eyes narrowed.  Black lips tightened, exposing double sets of
>> two-inch fangs.  Suddenly the wolf trembled.  Its teeth clacked, and a
>> piteous whine rose from its throat.
>> 
>>     "It's all right, boy," Becky crooned.  "Don't be afraid.  That's my
>> mama, and she loves you, too." 
>> 
>>    Then the unbelievable happened.  As her tiny hands stroked the great
>> shaggy head, I heard the gentle thump, thump, thumping of the wolf's tail
>> from deep inside the stump.
>> 
>>    What was wrong with the animal?  I wondered.  Why couldn't he get up?
>> I couldn't tell.  Nor did I dare to step any closer.
>> 
>>    I glanced at the empty water bowl.  My memory flashed back to the five
>> skunks that last week had torn the burlap from a leaking pipe in a
>> frenzied effort to reach water during the final agonies of rabies.  Of
>> course!  Rabies!  Warning signs had been posted all over the county, and
>> hadn't Becky said, "He's so thirsty?"
>> 

>>    I had to get Becky away.  "Honey."  My throat tightened.  "Put his head
>> down and come to Mama.  We'll go find help."
>> 
>>    Reluctantly, Becky got up and kissed the wolf on the nose before she
>> walked slowly into my outstretched arms.  Sad yellow eyes followed her.
>> Then the wolf's head sank to the ground.
>> 
>>    With Becky safe in my arms, I ran to the barns where Brian, one of our
>> cowhands, was saddling up to check heifers in the North pasture.
>> 
>>    "Brian!  Come quickly.  Becky found a wolf in the oak stump near the
>> wash!  I think it has rabies!"
>> 
>>    "I'll be there in a jiffy," he said as I hurried back to the house,
>> eager to put Becky down for her nap.  I didn't want her to see Brian
>> come out of the bunkhouse.  I knew he'd have a gun.
>> 
>>    "But I want to give my doggy his water," she cried.  I kissed her and
gave
>>her some stuffed animals to play with.  "Honey, let Mom and Brian
>> take care of him for now," I said.
>> 
>>    Moments later, I reached the oak stump.  Brian stood looking down at
>> the beast.  "It's a Mexican lobo, all right," he said, " and a big one!"
>>  "Whew!  It's not rabies," Brian said.  "But he's sure hurt real bad.
>> Don't you think it's best I put him out of his misery?"
>> 
>>    The world "yes" was on my lips, when Becky emerged from the bushes.
>> "Is Brian going to make him well, Mama?"  She hauled the animal's head
>> onto her lap once more, and buried her face in the coarse, dark fur.  This
>> time I wasn't the only one who heard the thumping of the lobo's tail.
>> 
>>    That afternoon my husband, Bill, and our veterinarian came to see the
>> wolf.  Observing the trust the animal had in our child, Doc said to me,
>> "Suppose you let Becky and me tend to this fella together."  Minutes
>> later, as child and vet reassured the stricken beast, the hypodermic found
>> its mark.  The yellow eyes closed.
>> 
>>    "He's asleep now," said the vet.  "Give me a hand here, Bill."  They
>> hauled the massive body our of the stump.  The animal must have been over
>> five feet long and well over one-hundred pounds.  The hip and leg had been
>> mutilated by bullets.  Doc did what he had to in order to clean the wound
>> and then gave the patient a dose of penicillin.  Next day he returned and
>> inserted a metal rod to replace the missing bone.
>> 
>>    "Well, it looks like you've got yourselves a Mexican lobo," Doc said.
>> "He looks to be about three years old, and even as pups, they don't tame
>> real easy.  I'm amazed at the way this big fella took to your little gal.
>> But often there's something that goes on between children and animals that
>> we grownups don't understand."
>> 
>>    Becky named the wolf Ralph and carried food and water to the stump
>> every day.  Ralph's recovery was not easy.  For three months he dragged
>> his injured hindquarters by clawing the earth with his front paws.  From
>> the way he lowered his eyelids when we massaged the atrophied limbs, we
>> knew he endured excruciating pain, but not once did he ever try to bite
>> the hands of those who cared for him.

>> 
>>    Four months to the day, Ralph finally stood unaided.  His huge frame
>> shook as long-unused muscles were activated.  Bill and I patted and
>> praised him.  But it was Becky to whom he turned for a gentle word, a kiss
>> or a smile.  He responded to these gestures of love by swinging his busy
>> tail like a pendulum.
>> 
>>    As his strength grew, Ralph followed Becky all over the ranch.
>> Together they roamed the desert pastures, the golden-haired child often
>> stooping low, sharing with the great lame wolf whispered secrets of
>> nature's wonders.  When evening came, he returned like a silent shadow to
>> his hollow stump that had surely become his special place.  As time went
>> on, although he lived primarily in the brush, the habits of this timid
>> creature endeared him more and more to all of us.
>> 
>>    His reaction to people other than our family was yet another story.
>> Strangers terrified him, yet his affection for and protectiveness of Becky
>> brought him out of the desert and fields at the sight of every unknown
>> pickup or car.  Occasionally he'd approach, lips taut, exposing a nervous
>> smile full of chattering teeth.  More often he'd simply pace and finally
>> skulk off to his tree stump, perhaps to worry alone.
>> 
>>    Becky's first day of school was sad for Ralph.  After the bus left, he
>> refused to return to the yard.  Instead, he lay by the side of the road
>> and waited.  When Becky returned, he limped and tottered in wild, joyous
>> circles around her.  This welcoming ritual persisted throughout her school
>> years.
>> 
>>    Although Ralph seemed happy on the ranch, he disappeared into the
>> surrounding deserts and mountains for several weeks during the spring
>> mating season, leaving us to worry about his safety.  This was calving
>> season, and fellow ranchers watched for coyotes, cougars, wild dogs and,
>> of course, the lone wolf.  But Ralph was lucky.
>> 
>>    During Ralph's twelve years on our ranch, his habits remained
>> unchanged.  Always keeping his distance, he tolerated other pets and
>> endured the activities of our busy family, but his love for Becky never
>> wavered.  Then the spring came when our neighbor told us he'd shot and
>> killed a she-wolf and grazed her mate, who had been running with her.
>> Sure enough, Ralph returned home with another bullet wound.
>> 
>>    Becky, nearly fifteen years old now, sat with Ralph's head resting on
>> her lap.  He, too, must have been about fifteen and was gray with age.  As
>> Bill removed the bullet, my memory raced back through the years.  Once
>> again I saw a chubby three-year-old girl stroking the head of a huge black
>> wolf and heard a small voice murmuring, "It's all right, boy.  Don't be
>> afraid.  That's my mama, and she loves you, too."
>> 
>>    Although the wound wasn't serious, this time Ralph didn't get well.
>> Precious pounds fell away.  The once luxurious fur turned dull and dry,
>> and his trips to the yard in search of Becky's companionship ceased.  All
>> day long he rested quietly.
>> 
>>    But when night fell, old and stiff as he was, he disappeared into the
>> desert and surrounding hills.  By dawn his food was gone.

>> 
>>    The morning came when we found him dead.  The yellow eyes were closed.
>> Stretched out in front of the oak stump, he appeared but a shadow of the
>> proud beast he once had been.  A lump in my throat choked me as I watched
>> Becky stroke his shaggy neck, tears streaming down her face.  "I'll miss
>> him so," she cried.
>> 
>>    Then as I covered him with a blanket, we were startled by a strange
>> rustling sound from inside the stump.  Becky looked inside.  Two tiny
>> yellow eyes peered back and puppy fangs glinted in the semi-darkness.
>> Ralph's pup!
>> 
>>    Had a dying instinct told him his motherless offspring would be safe
>> here, as he had been, with those who loved him?  Hot tears spilled on baby
>> fur as Becky gathered the trembling bundle in her arms.  "It's all right,
>> little . . . Ralph," she murmured.  "Don't be afraid.  That's my mom,
>> and she loves you, too."
>> Unknown
>> From Kekcan


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