Several months ago, I had to go downtown to the Stockton street Apple Store (one of three in San Francisco) to ask about a computer problem during my lunch break. Now Muni does not allow dogs on its cars except for service dogs. However a man embarked the Civic Center station with an absolute beast. Four feet tall at the shoulder, six feet long, not counting the tail.
A passenger said, “Man you can’t bring that Siberian Husky on the train.”
“Don’t worry, it’s OK, no problem. This is not a dog. He’s a Timber Wolf.”
That is a really, really good way to get everyone’s attention. Especially mine, since wolves have very large heads, even larger jaws, and these even larger jaws were very close to a pair of very special parts of me.
His human told us all that his wolf was “completely tame.” No. Tractable like cheetahs, maybe, but not tame. It did let us pet its head and it did sit on command, but make no mistake, a wolf is not a dog. Wolves do not enjoy humans. This wolf did not enjoy us, not with its massive head lowered and looking at the floor of the Muni car, not with its body absolutely still. I know that anthropomorphism is a dangerous thing, but in my eyes his body language screamed sullenness. If I read his mind correctly, the wolf was thinking, “Anywhere but here. Anywhere but here.”
But it was not a dog. So it was OK to bring it on Muni.
Hearing the call of the wild (new episode of “Being Human” in a few minutes), I remain,
Vonn Scott Bair