Mrs. Davis was a little afraid of the wolf but respected his job of watching over the baby in her care. So she had fixed up a soft bed on the screened-in porch for him, along with a bowl of food and water, and latched the screen door open so he could come and go at will. As Carly approached, Sam stood and glared at her. She reached the steps, and he turned his head to look away. “Sam, aren’t you happy to see me at all?” Carly asked. Sam looked back toward her and made a huffing noise, then shook his fur. Carly crouched down. “Come on, don’t be like that.” Sam relented, having apparently decided he’d punished her enough. He bounded over to her and nearly knocked her over as he licked under her chin, then snuggled his head into her neck. His high-pitched whines and yips nearly pierced her eardrums, and his tail whacked her legs as he dropped back down to all four paws, butting his head against her in a demand to be petted. Sometimes Sam’s behavior was very dog-like, but she always had to remember he was a hundred-and-fifty-pound adult male wolf.
