The Day I Learned That Wild Doesn't Mean Unloving

I have loved wolves for as long as I can remember.

My main spirit guide has always been a black wolf named Lakota. Since childhood, I've felt his steady presence beside me—guiding me, protecting me, reminding me to trust myself and Spirit.

So naturally, I wanted to meet a wolf.

Or at least...

what I thought a wolf was.

That journey eventually led me to ROAM Wolf Dog Sanctuary.

Before I visited, I had a question that I suspect many people have.

What exactly is a wolf dog?

A wolf?

A dog?

Something in between?

The answer, I quickly learned, isn't nearly that simple.

Wolf dogs are dogs that carry some percentage of wolf genetics. Some have very little wolf. Others are more than eighty percent wolf.

Unfortunately, they have become victims of a fantasy.

People fall in love with the idea of owning something wild.

Until that adorable seventy-five-pound "puppy" decides the leather couch would make an excellent afternoon snack.

Then reality arrives.

Many of these beautiful animals are abandoned.

Some are turned loose to fend for themselves.

Others end up in shelters where they cannot legally be adopted because of their wolf content.

For many...

that story ends in euthanasia.

My heart broke.

I realized these animals weren't what so many people imagined them to be.

They were misunderstood.

The more time I spent at ROAM, the more often I returned.

Then they began offering "Howl and Hikes."

Walk a trail...

with wolf dogs.

My response?

"Sign me up!"

There is something extraordinary about walking beside an animal that carries both the curiosity of a dog and the ancient presence of a wolf.

Eventually, I was invited to communicate with some of the sanctuary's highest-content wolf dogs.

I'll admit...

I wasn't sure what to expect.

What I experienced surprised me.

They didn't communicate about being wild.

They communicated about family.

About loyalty.

About responsibility.

About the importance of the pack.

Again and again, I felt one message:

The pack comes first.

Their love wasn't dramatic.

It wasn't possessive.

It was steady.

Quiet.

Unwavering.

They also showed me something I'll never forget.

They don't howl because they're lonely.

They howl because they're connected.

To one another.

To the land.

To Spirit.

Standing among them, listening to those voices rise into the air, I realized I had misunderstood something.

Being wild isn't the opposite of love.

Sometimes it's simply another way of belonging.

What the Wolf Dogs Taught Me

I went to ROAM because I loved wolves.

But I think part of me also went carrying a romantic idea of what a wolf represented.

Wildness.

Strength.

Freedom.

Spirit.

All beautiful things.

But the actual animals taught me something much less romantic and much more meaningful.

They taught me about relationship.

Again and again, their attention returned to the pack.

Not me.

Us.

That distinction has stayed with me.

We humans spend an extraordinary amount of energy trying to become independent.

We celebrate doing things ourselves.

Taking care of ourselves.

Figuring things out ourselves.

Sometimes we even wear "I don't need anybody" as a badge of strength.

The wolf dogs showed me a completely different kind of strength.

Their strength comes from belonging.

From knowing where they fit.

From caring for one another.

From understanding that the well-being of the individual and the well-being of the pack aren't separate things.

And that made me look at my own life differently.

Maybe being strong doesn't mean standing alone.

Maybe being powerful doesn't require domination.

Maybe leadership isn't about being the loudest voice in the room.

And maybe connection doesn't make us weaker.

Maybe connection is part of what makes us strong.

Their howling brought that lesson home in a way I will never forget.

Before spending time with them, I think some part of me associated a wolf's howl with loneliness.

A solitary wolf calling into the darkness.

But standing there and hearing them howl together felt entirely different.

It felt like recognition.

"I'm here."

"You're there."

"We belong to one another."

There is something incredibly beautiful about that.

And perhaps that's why wolves have called to me for so much of my life.

I thought I was drawn to their wildness.

Maybe I was being drawn to their understanding of connection.

To the reminder that I don't have to choose between being fully myself and belonging to something larger than myself.

Nature doesn't ask us to make that choice.

We are individuals.

And we are part of the whole.

Both are true.

The wolf dogs also taught me something else that feels especially important.

Loving an animal means respecting who they actually are—not who we want them to be.

These remarkable animals don't need us to romanticize them.

They don't need us to possess them so we can feel closer to the wild.

They need us to understand them.

To respect their instincts.

Their needs.

Their boundaries.

Their nature.

Perhaps that's one of the purest forms of love we can offer any living being:

To stop asking them to become what we need and begin honoring who they already are.

I went looking for the wolf I had imagined.

Instead, the wolf dogs introduced me to themselves.

I'm very grateful they did.

You May Be Wondering...

Are wolf dogs good pets?

Wolf dogs are extraordinary animals, but they aren't the right companions for most households.

Their needs, instincts, behaviors, containment requirements, and social structures can be very different from those of the dogs most of us share our homes with.

That's part of why sanctuaries like ROAM are so important. Too many people fall in love with the idea of living with a wolf dog without fully understanding the animal they're bringing home.

And I think there's a larger lesson in that.

When we truly love animals, the question isn't simply:

"Do I want this animal?"

We also have to ask:

"Can I give this animal the life they need?"

Sometimes loving an animal means bringing them into our family.

Sometimes loving them means supporting the people who can properly care for them.

And sometimes love simply means standing in awe of a magnificent being...

without needing to make them ours.

May you see the world through the eyes of love, remembering that we are all part of one living, sacred whole.