Wolf at My Door

May 11, 2022

A furious rattling of the old push handle on the front door of my cabin wakes me. My heartbeat wobbles, jumps, races, then settles. It comes again, and I shakily rise from my bed, reaching for my cane.

The door handle needs tightening again. I should have replaced it decades ago, but somehow, I couldn’t. It would have meant…well, I just couldn’t.

The rattling stops and a thud shakes the door. “I’m coming,” I say. My voice didn’t used to quake. Not even when a stranger came to my door. I’ve never felt unsafe in my little cabin on the edge of the wood.

I reach with withered fingers to pull back the latch. I feel an impatience waiting for me on the other side. My heart does that race and wobble again. This time it doesn’t stop. I push down the inner handle and pull the door toward me, then step back to see who has awakened me.

I freeze at the sight of a large grey wolf bristling and baring a single fang. The full moon stands high in the night sky above him. I can’t move. Can’t breathe. My heart, so weak these last few months, struggles to beat.

“When did you start locking the door against me?” The wolf’s fur smooths. His lone fang is joined by others in a toothy grin.

“You disappeared and never came home. It’s been more than fifty years.” I can breathe again. My oldest, dearest friend has come home to me. The pup I rescued when his mother died under the wheels of a truck. We’d shared nearly fifteen years of love and companionship.

“You disappeared,” I repeat. I used to imagine conversations with Nitou. It somehow doesn’t seem odd to me that he is really speaking with me now. Or maybe I’m still in bed. Maybe I’m dreaming.

“I am a wolf. It’s what we do when our time comes.” Nitou passes through the doorway, somehow managing to both circle my legs, rubbing against them as he used to, and simultaneously close the door behind him.

I had known he must have died. He was old. Very old. As I am now. Though I know the answer already, I ask, “Why have you come home?”

“I’ve missed you,” Nitou says, leading me to the old sofa in the sitting room. Everything here is old. Everything as it was when my wolf pup first came to me. He waits while I settle in my spot before jumping up to lie beside me. He lays his head in my lap, closing his eyes, his body relaxing in contentment as my fingers find their way to his favorite scratch point behind his right ear.

“You know why I’m here.” Nitou opens his eyes, his loving gaze holding mine. We stay like this, my hand in his fur, our hearts again beating as one. I barely notice when my physical heart stops.

Together, we rise from the sofa, young and whole. I fall to my knees, throwing my arms around my wolf companion, burying my face in his fur. “What now?” I ask as the cabin dissolves around us, leaving us somehow standing beneath the stars.

In answer, Nitou raises his face to the moon and howls. I laugh, remembering the many full moons we’ve shared. I open my throat and join his joyous call to the night.

This story came to me whole as I neared the end of my morning meditation. I immediately pulled out my laptop and wrote it before any of the details fuzzed or faded. I didn’t see its accompanying (perfect) image until I went looking for one. It’s as though the universe wanted this story written for some reason.

Wolf at My Door

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