Last November I wrote to you about my love of wolves, about totem animals and my spiritual beliefs, and about Oreo, a beautiful Tamaskan who was due to go into heat over the winter. I have wanted a wolf since I was six years old, and I knew after meeting Oreo that I had found the answer to my dreams.
On February 28th Oreo gave birth to eight healthy puppies. Five boys and three girls. Tiny little creatures that looked more like moles than dogs, eyes closed, and noses squished. Callie sent updates as each one came into the world and my day got better and better. Oreo was, by all accounts, amazing and calm. As each one came, she let Callie help clean them up and give them a coloured collar to help tell them apart. By the end we had, in age order:
Mr Green (quickly nicknamed Fatimus as he outweighed his brothers and sisters)
Miss Pink
Mr Red
Miss Yellow
Miss Blue
Mr Purple
Mr Orange
Mr Lime
I was in love with them all.
I live about an hour and a half from Callie who generously said Mum and I could visit the puppies as often as we wanted, and so we went when they were only a few weeks old. I climbed into the puppy nest and sat for hours as tiny pups, so small they couldn’t walk yet and had only just opened their eyes, sniffed and wiggled and snuggled all over me. By the end of the first visit, I had narrowed my choice down to four of the eight, but had no idea how I was going to choose between them.
Completely in love with these amazing creatures, and hanging off Callie’s every update, Mum and I went back. This time the puppies were up and moving unsteadily, the wobbly walk of a four-legged creature only just working out what its paws are for. In the puppy nest I kissed and cuddled while chatting with Callie as she told me about the personalities and quirks already on show. Sitting among them the idea of choosing felt impossible. Then, in the car on the way home, talking with Mum it suddenly became blindingly obvious that I wasn’t making the choice, the puppies where, and they had already made it. And so, I messaged Callie and said I would like to share my life with Mr Red. Proving my instincts right Callie was thrilled, she’d never seen Mr. Red react to people the way he did to me and Mum and wanted me to choose him.
Suddenly I had a puppy. A puppy who would need a bed, toys, a crate, a lead, a collar, food and so much more. Mostly though I had a puppy who needed a name.
Thankfully we managed to fit in one more visit. This time we sat in the play pen in the back garden as puppies zoomed and wrestled around me, and Mr Red climbed into my lap. Standing under a blue Cornish sky holding my pup in my arms I felt a kind of completeness I hadn’t imagined possible, like finding a missing part of myself and bringing it home. Days before the visit a name suddenly come to me from nowhere. Holding him, watching him play, watching Mum hug hum, watching Gem meet him for the first time, I knew the name was right.
Finn.
Waiting for the day he could come and live with me got harder and harder. I was dreaming about him, thinking about him non-stop, and rewatching the video of his first howl on repeat. I even began counting down the days: 5. 4. 3. 2. 1.
Then suddenly it was Saturday and the day was here. We were in the car at 8.30am and I had Finn in my arms by 10. Collecting him was emotional; a strange mix of excitement, joy, nerves, and sadness at taking him away from his brothers, sisters, Mum, Callie, and her family. This was everything he’d ever known, and I was about to change it all. I know in the long term I am changing it in ways he will love, but it still feels like a strange thing to do to a creature. I’m glad we live close enough that we can plan visits with his birth family, both human and dog.
After gentle goodbyes and an amazingly generous tote bag of treats, toys, and towels from Callie, we got him into the car and headed off. He was such a good boy on the journey, despite drooling and throwing up a few times, he managed to fall asleep. Arriving home was a whirlwind of cleaning him up, of reintroducing him to Gem, of sniffs and exploring and playing and eating and sleeping, only to wake a repeat it all. He even slept through his first encounter with Willow Cat, who seems to have decided this new dog thing might be ok. Dragan Cat on the other hand is upstairs and not sure he’s ever leaving the safety of my bed.
Within twelve hours of leaving his birth home he was already so relaxed. He whined a little at bedtime then was quiet until 5.20am when his cries woke me and our day began. As I write this, he is sound asleep behind me, completely conked out after a busy morning of yet more playing and exploring and learning. He’s such a brave and clever boy. Callie did an extraordinary job making the first 10 weeks of his life safe, fun, and rich. I can’t thank her or their family enough.
Finn has been mine for almost 28 hours. I am exhausted already and so full of emotion that I have cried multiple times this morning. I have dreamt about this moment in my life for 36 years. I have waited until I felt capable of sharing my life with a dog of my own. I have waited for the right pup to come along. I have dreamt and dreamt and dreamt. And now he is here, and my life is already completely different. I know, with a deep certainty, that loving this little (soon to be huge) creature is going to be one of the best things I ever do with my life.
My Nomadic Wolf. I can’t wait to see where our lives together take us, and I look forward to sharing them with you all.
What a cutie! Enjoy your life together! It goes by way too fast!
OMG I’m crying after reading this !! So beautifully written and I’m soooooo Jealous 🥰