By Nancy Gallimore
Once upon a time in a small township in a land known as Northeastern Oklahoma, a young wolfdog was born.
Though small and helpless, her humans put her in a small, dank pen and treated her as if she were the big, bad wolf. There she lived, without companionship or proper care, for her first four months.
Then one day, the knights of Animal Control came and told her people they could no longer keep the pup imprisoned in such a manner. In fact, they would no longer be allowed to keep her at all because wolfdogs were not allowed within
the borders of this town. So the Knights of Animal Control took the small wolfdog away to a scary dungeon, or so it seemed to the frightened animal.
The “knights” were kind to the puppy, but having no experience with people beyond the ones at her previous home, she was frightened and curled up trembling in a corner, as far away from these humans as the confines of her kennel would allow. Meanwhile, her new caretakers feared the not-so-big, not-so-bad wolfdog would never find safe placement outside of their shelter.
While this narrative could play out as a fairytale generations old, it is the all too true plight of a modern-day wolfdog—a story that is unfortunately retold time and again for other similar animals. The term
wolfdog describes a dog that is the offspring of a breeding between wolf/dog crosses and domestic dogs. The practice started long ago at fur farms when wolves were crossed with dogs.
Today, the cross is most often with one of the northern breeds, such as Huskies and Malamutes, or with working breeds like German Shepherds. The resulting wolfdogs—whether high, mid or low wolf content—can look very much like their wild relatives.
People are often fascinated by these dogs. The allure of being around a “wild animal” is strong. The thought of having one as a pet, taking it out and about to impress friends, is a real-life fantasy for some. And irresponsible breeders will cash in on the appeal of these lanky, feral-looking dogs without providing proper education on the reality of life with a wolfdog, with no concern for the ongoing welfare of the puppies they send into the world.
The fact is that wolfdogs are a random combination of both species and both temperaments. And wolves and dogs are distinctly
different animals. We all know our dogs are descendants of wolves, but scientific evidence suggests there are 20,000 to 40,000 years of evolution between a wild wolf’s DNA and today’s domestic dogs.
To be perfectly honest, many humans misunderstand or misinterpret everyday dog behavior. Imagine a pet owner trying to decipher the wolf dynamic. It often ends in disaster.
Wolfdogs are frequently thrust into the very predicament this pup found herself in. They land in animal shelters because they are being housed in a city, county or state where they are not legal, or they were in the hands of people unable to meet the special requirements of living with a wolfdog. In this specific pup’s case, she had
both strikes against her. The third strike would be euthanasia if appropriate placement could not be found.
Euthanasia because of DNA seems a harsh sentence for a 4-month-old puppy. Unfortunately, it is all too often the fate of wolfdogs irresponsibly bred and placed in uninformed, unprepared homes. Thankfully, this puppy’s tale does not end tragically in that small town shelter.
Serina McMullin, a volunteer at the shelter and this story’s official Fairy Godmother, learned of the wolfdog and offered to take the puppy to foster until permanent placement could be found. Serina and her family lived on acreage outside of town and had a small pen with an attached outbuilding that would serve as safe temporary shelter.
The McMullins christened their new charge Elu, a name of Native American origin, meaning fair or beautiful—a very fitting name for the pretty puppy.
Because she lacked proper early socialization, Elu remained very wary of her human caretakers but never showed any signs of aggression. In fact, she bonded with Serina’s daughter Hannah, letting the teenager approach and pet her. In the family’s care, the fuzzy little puppy quickly grew into a large, beautiful adolescent wolfdog.
After housing Elu for six months, the McMullins knew she needed a new home with more secure fencing and a bigger area where a growing wolfdog could run, dig and play. Serina reached out to Karen and Terry Lilly, founders of Freedom’s Song Wolfdog Rescue (FSWR), a Tulsa-area nonprofit organization dedicated to educating the public and assisting wolfdogs in need whenever possible. Following a review of photos and videos, it was confirmed Elu did have wolf content, and arrangements were made to accept her into the rescue group’s program.
This is where I personally step into this tale—do I get to claim Fairy God-aunt? You see, my partner Jim and I live in a county where it is legal to house a wolfdog. Good thing because we have one that hogs our couch on a daily basis. Our wolfdog Kainan came to us in August of 2014. He was found as a stray 8-monthold puppy wandering a neighborhood in south Tulsa. Exhausted and emaciated with burns on each of his paw pads from walking on hot pavement, the plan was for the pup to stay with us until he recovered enough to move to a private sanctuary.
Good plan, but I think we failed as a foster home within about five minutes of bringing Kainan home. Our own personal experience with northern breeds, as well as other wolfdogs, combined with support from our new friends at Freedom’s Song made us a great fit for this young dog. Now, seven years later, Kainan is a
handsome 118-pound shedding machine, and we have loved every minute with him in our family. It was only natural for us to want to help another wolfdog in need.
Elu moved into a comfortable pen that had been set up for a previous FSWR foster dog at our home. Still very shy, our new friend was initially afraid of us and always moved to the far side of her pen when we approached. Gradually, with the help of Kainan—whom she adored—Elu grew to trust us. Soon, she would come lean against the fence for scratches and pets. Then she learned to sit calmly as I joined her inside her enclosure, where she allowed me to brush and pet her.
As her trust grew, I was able to leash Elu to take her out to explore our bigger yard. I was hesitant to let her run free because our backyard perimeter fence, is only 5 feet tall—a mere hop for a wolfdog with a yearning to roam (not an issue with Kainan … there are no couches on the other side of that fence so he’s staying put!). However, with more time and training, I began to trust Elu to stay with me in the yard, and she earned supervised off-leash playtime.
I had to laugh every time I turned Elu out to run. She would always plaster a huge, silly grin on her face as she zoomed around the yard in crazy zigzags. She tossed and played with toys. She loved it when Kainan or one of our other dogs would come run with her. She would gaze through the fence into the back pasture where our horses graze. She would point her nose straight to the sky, taking in all the scents. Her life was good, but it was not yet the life I knew she truly deserved.
Over the course of two years, we searched for an appropriate adoptive home for Elu or a reputable sanctuary that would accept her. Placement of wolfdogs is a tricky job. A lot of people inquire and apply, but few meet the qualifications for proper containment and housing.
Finally, FSWR reached out to Wolfwood Refuge in Ignacio, Colorado, a nonprofit haven for wolves and wolfdogs. Wolfwood confirmed they had room and would accept Elu into their care. Plans were made, veterinary health checks completed, and finally, after more than two years of hoping, the day arrived. Wolfwood volunteers Keith and Elizabeth Lawyer made the 12-plus-hour drive to transport Elu back to her perfect new home in Colorado.
Elu was surprisingly calm as we led her out on a cool spring morning to load her into the waiting truck—her equivalent of a magical carriage ride. As I said my goodbyes, I leaned in to whisper in her ear as I do with all my departing foster dogs. I always say the same thing, “I am letting you go because I love you. We have picked this special home just for you. Be good, be brave, be happy. …”
I trailed off before finishing my little speech. Normally, I would end it by saying, “… and know that I’ll be there for you if you ever need me again.” But this time, I left that part off. She would not need me again. This was not the end of Elu’s story but rather the beginning of her personal fairytale. Our beautiful gray girl has finally found her perfect storybook happily-ever-after.
NOTE: Elu’s transition to her new life at Wolfwood was incredibly smooth. In fact, she now shares a beautiful, spacious enclosure with another wolfdog rescued from Oklahoma named Xena. The two girls have become close friends and spend their days playing or enjoying the scenery as they relax atop a huge boulder in their mountaintop sanctuary. Someday, I will go for a visit. I think Elu will remember me and should be quite pleased to give me a tour of her enchanted new home.
