summer nights and morning dew | jjk

02

May

The first time you see it, you're perched on the steps leading down from your back porch with a book in your hand.

Although it's four p.m., the sun's rays haven't let up in the slightest, and you're glad that you decided to buy that flowy sun dress last week. It's only May, and it shouldn't be this hot yet.

You're just about to set the freshly filled cold glass of water down on the porch beside you, eyes struggling to remain on line six when something moves in your peripherals.

You don't know what you expected—if there even was time to expect something—but it certainly wasn't... a dog?

It's absolutely huge, wandering relaxed along the line where your backyard ends and the trees take over.

Until it hears your gasp–and the sound of you accidentally dramming your glass a little too hard against the wood–and freezes.

Your mouth hangs open as the two of you stare at each other. You've never had a dog of your own, and you're not very knowledgeable when it comes to them, but you filter through all the kinds you can remember in your head.

It's huge, but it's difficult to say more regarding its size than just... well, that it's huge when there's a distance of at least twenty meters between you. It looks...fluffy, like a polar dog of some kind. And it's got relatively small ears, erect on its head.

A sled dog? But the animal in front of you—still staring at you—is pitch black. And probably a lot larger.

A mix of some kind?

You're a bit wary but not terrified. Mostly because, although it still stares at you, it looks like it was just as caught off guard as you, and like it's trying to make sense of you.

Subconsciously, you tilt your head, and it seems to break the animal out of its thoughts. It moves, peering around the environment, and pants. Poor guy, you can't even imagine having fur that thick and of that color. Must soak the sun right up.

You rise from your spot on the porch as soon the idea hits you, startling the dog slightly in the process.

"Wait here," you plead, palms facing him, and then you turn around to disappear into the house.

It only takes you approximately forty seconds (and a few drops of water spilled on your kitchen floor) before you're back on your porch.

The dog is still there, panting with its long tongue hanging out, but you're almost convinced that it's one or two steps further onto your lawn.

Slowly, and very carefully, you step down from the porch and onto the grass. It feels soft under your bare feet.

"Are you thirsty?" you ask carefully, doing your best to not scare it away. "It's been so hot these days, and you must be warm."

It watches you place one of your white ceramic bowls onto the grass, and then you back away slowly.

Since it doesn't seem the most sociable, you only stop when behind the porch railing, just in case.

The dark eyes don't appear scared or hostile, just as if it's.... considering. Then, it glances at the bowl, licking around its mouth, and you get the feeling that if it could, it would've shrugged its shoulders.

Smoothly, it steps over a small branch and enters your backyard completely. With every step towards you, every step out of the shade, it becomes clearer.

That does not look like a dog.

It's too big, too lean. Its ears are pointier than they should be, and its eyes are actually... yellowish? And more piercing.

You're not stupid; you know how dangerous wolves are. They can rip a human apart with their teeth and claws, especially this overgrown one.

Yet, you're not too scared. You're on the other side of the porch railing, and you'd be able to slip inside the house and close the door before it could get to you.

The wolf remains unknowing of your discovery, reaching the bowl and sniffing it briefly. The water seems to get its approval since it starts drinking, lapping it up with its tongue.

It's in no rush, and you just stand and observe as it empties the bowl. A smile grows on your lips when you watch it raise its head, its tongue cleaning any stray drops from its snout, and shaking its fur the way you've seen dogs do.

"Feeling better? I can refill it if you want more?"

Of course, you don't expect it to answer, but it still feels so abrupt when it looks at you for a brief second and then turns around to leave.

You stand there for a few more minutes before you retrieve the empty bowl and then look through your house for something that will hold a bit of water but not break if an unruly animal drinks from it.

---

A week later, you've just come back from the market, happy to have sold one of your knitted blankets, when you grab a book to spend some time in the afternoon sun.

Birds are chirping, and there's a very appreciated breeze rustling the leaves of the trees that meet your backyard.

As usual, you sit down on the steps of your back porch and release a big breath. You haven't seen the wolf since it left a week ago, but you've certainly thought about it. You almost told your friend Lia about it a few days ago, but then decided against it.

Logically, a wolf being so comfortable as to wander into people's backyards isn't a good thing. Your closest neighbors live a short two-minute walk down the road, and you're just lucky that they don't have any children or small animals.

If they had, then you would've been forced to tell someone, and you're sure the wolf would've been hunted and killed. You probably still should, but you can't bring yourself to.

Five pages into your new book, you start to feel... watched, and when you peer up from the book, it stands there. At the tree line.

"Hi," you greet quietly with an inevitable smile, unsure if it even reached its ears.

It looks over to the bucket that's placed around ten meters from where you're sitting.

"I just filled it. If you're thirsty?"

He looks at you with those yellow eyes, then back to the bucket before finally trudging toward it. It's a little later in the afternoon than when you met him last week, but it's still warm, and you don't blame him for spending a minute drinking.

This time, you don't stand up, not even with a wild wolf ten meters from you. It doesn't seem very interested in you, neither threatened nor excited.

What surprises you is when it's done drinking. It turns around to leave just like last time, or at least that's what you thought, but instead, it lies down at the very edge of your backyard, making itself comfortable.

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and it doesn't help when it yawns and rests its head on its front paws.

You don't move for the rest of the evening, not until the sun is setting and you've almost finished the book, feeling honored to be deemed good enough company for the wolf to snooze with.