“Every dog is an Alpha until he meets a Wolf”

author unknown
Come on in, my dear. You look mighty cute in those leggings. Are they squat proof? Ah, not quite, but they look marvelous on you.

Of Flora and Fauna

Wild Creatures I have Known

"Hi! I was expecting you. I have a seat over here for you at the table."

Nothing pleases me more than to converse with my friends. While it is always my preference to listen, if there is a momentary silence, my screaming thoughts might find a way to escape my lips. Please, forgive my errant ways.

Recently, I exchanged many tales about my love of our Earth’s flora and fauna and their direct relationship to our lives as bi-pedal hominids with my blogoteer friends. I work in the metrological research sciences (no, it has nothing to do with predicting the weather although my aching bones are usually accurate in their predictions.) and keep up with the frontier of research here on Terrafirma and in space. The discoveries we’ve made regarding the hidden lives of plants and animals has electrified my long-held beliefs that we are not the only sentient life on the angry blue planet.

My entire life, during this most recent lifetime, was spent in nature and in raising my children, I always taught them that all animals deserve our respect and safeguarding. I explained to them it was not proper to imprison them with our desire for their company. We should take care of our interactions. Besides, toothy things can leave unsightly marks on our tender skin. In the same vein, I taught them the conservation of our limited natural resources. How would you like it if a Dandelion thought it was perfectly okay to make soup out of you?

The lovely offspring of my life did listen, and they have provided their peers with an excellent example of how to live well with nature.

“How does one exemplify the perfect balance of our mammalian roots,” you ask?

“Let me explain by telling you a story. What? Of course, it’s true. All of my unbelievable tales are true.”

While away floundering in the deserts of North Africa discovering all kinds of new and exciting things about camel spiders, scorpions, and of course, camels, my younglings had adopted a homeless couple of Rhode Island Reds when their humans moved away. It seems they were quite the amorous couple as Lady Red left eggs for the children to discover quite regularly.

Now, Mr. Red was the protective type and he would make a blustery fuss whenever the girls went to collect the eggs. During my monthly call back to let my one true love know that I was alive and that the life insurance payout was not forthcoming as she had hoped, I was consulted about how to keep the girls from getting spurred by Mr. Red. We had many conversations along those lines but, this was an easy problem to solve.

Just throw some feed out first and when the chickens rush over to eat, you can get in and do whatever you need to do. They will ignore you.

It worked.

But, as we all know, for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. All that chicken feed attracted other creatures that required the usual befriending by the girls. I soon learned of a pure white cat with rose-colored eyes and pink nose visiting most nights. The girls took to feeding him table scraps and soon he began to grow into a large feline with thick white fur. Apparently, the cat was docile with the kids and no injuries over food fights ensued.

When  I returned, the chickens were gone. They were deported by order of the Post Sergeant Major. It seems Mr. Red liked to get up early in the morning and squawk his ass off. That perturbed the neighbors, and since they knew I was away and couldn’t whip their ass for being squealers, they ratted out Mr. Red. It ended happily because the Queen of the house gave the chickens to a nice Korean man that owned a small restaurant and he liked chickens that lay eggs.

The cat met with a far better fate. I wanted to introduce myself to this strange visitor. The girls rewarded me one evening by telling me the cat was back and he was busy eating dinner. I went outside into the back yard to see this mysterious avatar of benevolent spirits.

When I found our adopted feline dining voraciously on table scraps, my anal cleft clinched so hard it was impossible to run away screaming so, I settled for just screaming. I was staring at the most massive albino male skunk the world had ever produced. With butt cheeks firmly engaged, I backed away.

“What’s wrong Daddy?”
“Girls, let’s go inside and let kitty eat in peace.”

My skunk PTSD was in full bloom. I’d learned as a youth that skunks can appear friendly and happy go lucky until you pick them up. The memory of my mother screeching in horror as I came inside the house smelling all funkadelic made me shudder as the long secluded traumas revisited.

Luckily, my mother saved the entire family with her quick reactions. I was taken outside and handed the water hose and a large can of tomato juice, which was rumored to be an antidote to my horrendous body odor. It was then I discovered the spiritual liberation of naked tomato juice bathing. My erotic underpinnings were brought to the surface in glorious fashion, but I still stunk like an outhouse long after the tomato juice had percolated into the ground. I tried my mother’s perfumed girly soap. Now, I smelled like a French prostitute in a public toilet. I suppose I could have lived with that except I had basketball practice to go to.

While nonchalantly changing into my gym clothes, I began to outgas my perfumed odors into the locker room that already smelled like sweaty feet and dirty butts wrapped in moldy towels.

“Who’s the jerk that busted ass in here?”
“I don’t smell any….Arrgggghhhhh!”


Right before my teammates set me on fire, the coach came to the rescue and told me to do 100 laps around the school gym to air my nasty ass out a little. There was a lot of gagging in agreement and so, sentenced to shame and corporal punishment, I ran my stinky self around the gym for an hour and went home to more rejection.

I couldn’t let my girls go through what I had been through. I had to find a way to gently provide a little distance for them and still not do harm to our adopted, gigantic, albino skunk.

“Girls, our furry snow white friend is what you call a Stink Kitty. If you pet him, he could fart and it’s a damned sticky fart at that.”


Problem solved.

We weened Mr. Stink Kitty from his high-calorie diet because it isn’t healthy to overfeed wildlife and Stinkie left for greener pastures. He would come back on occasion, and one day I saw him ambling across the field with his girlfriend and four little kits. They looked like little snow leopards pouncing on butterflies and grasshoppers hiding among the Dandelions. Life was in the balance as it should be and my little princesses never had to live with the memory of that scornful who farted look.

Do you have an interesting nature story you would like to share? Let us hear from you.

Image Source: Pinterest


69 thoughts on “Coffee with the Wolf Master

    1. Bwaaa haa haaa! My grandmother called me a stinker until I got out of diapers then she called me skunk boy. It wasn’t my fault she thought baked beans were essential for growing boys. Dang, back in the day, I could nearly levitate. I once got disqualified in a watermelon seed spitting contest for using unorthodox methods of propulsion.

      Liked by 1 person

            1. The God of Dune is your rightful place and I seek only to be a spice taster, a partaker of the melánge, a prescient hedonist of Fremen Orgy to ensure your supply is of the most premium quality. I’ll do it for free as a civic duty.

              Liked by 1 person

  1. Hi Daniel,

    You’ve probably heard by now that the American Psychological Association has proclaimed traditional masculinity is toxic.

    A statement that has been met with thunderous applause by radical feminist blowhards everywhere.

    No doubt the APA will be sending veterinary psychologists to proclaim the good news to the alpha wolves in the Carpathian Mountains in your story.

    They probably won’t be returning to the U.S. after their lupine talk of advising them to get in touch with their feminine side in their psychobabble dancing with wolves encounter.

    Anyhow I wrote a vampire novel chapter tonight satirizing this APA proclamation and its aftereffects such as the latest Gillette ad implying that the best a man can get is to go and buy his outfits in the same Beverly Hills dress shop that Bruce/Caitlyn Jenner does.

    The name of the chapter is Renfield: An Example of Traditional Toxic Masculinity?

    Liked by 1 person

    1. We have been sending the satirical toxic male masculinity messages back and forth in the workforce with gleeful abandonment of all government enforced rules of gender neutrality. For sensitivity training, we watched a YouTube video where a California feminist was filming a movie of a Pan Goatee beheading candidate dominating a meek man with a pitchfork. From now on we can no longer fart in our work cubies as an example of out of control male toxicity. So a work farting area was designated outside near the smoking area. This really stinks and will result in a conflagration eventually.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Dear H, I doubt there is anyone who can tell a tale as well as you. Such a delightful story, I did laugh out loud at your mishaps and misfortunes. Thankfully, Dad came to rescue just in time to save his little ones from the same fate. I really love this, you’re gift for story telling is unsurpassed.

    Liked by 1 person

                    1. And laughing is soooo contagious. I’ve been in meetings and someone cracks a funny and it takes 30 minutes to get control of ourselves because someone always donkey brays and then everyone loses their public decorum and laughs until they cry. That would make a great meme.

                      Liked by 1 person

  3. In addition to being a horse whisperer (the wild horses of the Red Deer Badlands actually used to come up and converse with him- God only knows what they were talking about) and an elk whisperer and a deer whisperer (in addition to actually talking to the roses he grew which may explain why they grew so beautifully), my dad was also a skunk whisperer.

    He was able to go up and talk to skunks and not be sprayed with their aromatic scent that drives most people to the spiritual liberation of naked tomato juice bathing that is quite often followed by the naked tomato bun tanning that is administered by one Sherrielock Holmes.

    I for one have never worked up the nerve to see if his skunk whispering habits were passed to me through his DNA.

    So I always keep a respectful distance from those your girls dubbed cats when they were younger.

    As for being a deer whisperer, deer have been known to follow me around when they see me (as did the wild burros of Big Bear Lake, California when I visited the place).

    In fact back in 1989, my mother got the shock of her life when about 20 to 30 deer followed me into the men’s washrooms on the shores of Lake Minnewanka in Banff National Park.

    She took a photo of the phenomenon (with an actual film camera- considered an antique these days) just to let people know she wasn’t making it up.

    That many deer following me into the washroom might lead people to suspect I have a very unusual sexual predilection which if the U.S. Democratic Party found out about it would automatically propel me as the front runner to win the Democratic Party Presidential nomination in 2020.


  4. Oh, my goodness, my sides are splitting! I’m dying. LOLOLOL I loved being able to read the long version of this story; it did not disappoint! 😂😂 I bow to your ability to weave such a delightful and funny tale.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I’m glad you liked it Kymber. See, I do have a crazy life that nobody could believe, but that makes it more fun. Some of my friends who knew me back then still wonder what the hell I was smokin and what diety was in charge of my life. I thought it was mostly Karma repaying me for all the stuff I did as a teenager. 😲💭😇

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Yes they are, on both accounts. We have a lot of them in this area but they don’t really cause much problems except when home owners discover them asleep by the cat food bowl. Time to get access cards for the pet door. 😂 Nice kitty, timr to eake up and go home….

      Liked by 1 person

    1. I found that if you start them young, they tend to internalize good manners and empathetic feelings not realizing it until it’s too late and they end up a decent person by design rather than choice. An old DARPA trick I learned in basic Skunk Works class.

      Liked by 1 person

  5. What a cute, somewhat twisted, comical tale. Well told. In my mind, I was sitting across the table from your at a Starbucks, getting to know you. I too, have a skunk story, but it nowhere near as amusing as that. And only you would have erotic thoughts in a tomato juice bath. Although, now that I reflect upon that experience, the juice is rather smooth, thick and juicy. And let’s not forget that blood red color. I’ll be there for the next coffee chat…

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Oh, you gotta share with us, your skunk tale. Shunk stories usually have predictable plots but are funny just the same. My budding eroticism was born out of vigorously scrubbing my inexerienced manlyness and I discovered Mr Happy would rise to nearly any challenge. I look forward to our meetings in the future.

      Liked by 1 person

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