As a young woman with maternal instincts and little child-rearing experience, I’ve always dreamt of becoming the young mother to five children. For some reason three boys and two girls has always stuck out in my mind as the perfect family arrangement. In all these dreams however, I never once expected all five – with an extra girl to boot – to show up at once. Nor did I expect them to be quite so furry with such sharp teeth.
Wolf puppies that are destined for a life in captivity after being born as such require intense socialization for a happy, peaceful life in a facility such as ours. They must be bottle-raised and constantly around humans to accept us as part of their life. A wolf pup that grows up with other wolves will never trust the sight of a human, and thus, vet trips and feeding and anything involving humans becomes a stressful experience. For that reason, since their arrival at Wild Spirit, our six newest residents have been under the constant supervision of a surrogate human mother or father. Watching them grow so much in such a short period of time, I’ve gained quite the respect for those of you human mothers and fathers out there, and decided that anyone who wants to have children, should first attempt raising a wolf puppy to find out the responsibility awaiting you.
Phase 1 - I’m a terrible mother and my baby hates me.
I’ve heard tales of many new mothers having emotional breakdowns when a difficulty appears with their infant. “Why is she crying? I don’t know what she wants!” or “She won’t eat, what’s wrong?!” or “What’s wrong with me, my baby hates me!” It was probably five days into my surrogate mother duty when the pups had destroyed the one nipple they found acceptable. At 3:00 in the morning, covered in formula, urine and the smells of puppy, the office filled with the cries of hunger, and a 2.5 lb Sabine, wriggling anxiously in my arms, I burst into tears because I had failed the puppies. I couldn’t get them to eat, and couldn’t stop the hunger pains, and couldn’t make the crying stop, and my maternal emotions took over, and here I was, six little puppies tugging at my clothing, screaming to a staff member about how I was a failure as a mother.
When several new nipples arrived the next day, and the puppies began contentedly sucking away again, I came to the conclusion that, motherhood isn’t about success and failure, but merely the right kind of latex.
Phase 2 - Everything must be perfect, and I must document EVERYTHING.
In the planning stages of motherhood, first-timers always plan to do everything right. Children will be on food-pyramid dictated, vitamin-enriched diet, they’ll be at a third grade reading level by the time they reach pre-school, and elected as President of the United States before graduating high-school. To boot, mom will be documenting every event from the baby’s first word to the first time the new baby sees a pine tree…
For the first two weeks the puppies were with us, they were weighed daily. We took their measurements and temperature each evening, and took photos of each puppy in the exact same position to document every stage of growth.
Some time during their third week, I found myself hyperventilating over the fact that I had forgot a day’s worth of weighing and couldn’t find the records of the temperatures from the night before. It was when someone found me examining the one-pigment coloration difference in one of the puppies feces that they informed me I might be going a little overboard… A week later, pages and pages of documentation had been forgotten, and perfect, posed pictures had gone by the way-side of the 3,000 random pics that had already made it to computer hard drive.
Phase 3 - My baby doesn’t need me anymore.
As infants, humans and wolves are completely dependent on their mother to give them everything. Human babies need fed and bathed, to have their diapers changed, and their bedding perfectly arranged to avoid any dangers. Wolf puppies need bottle fed, stimulated to go to the bathroom, isolated from danger and disease, and constantly examined for any signs of illness.
At first, I was with the puppies 24/7. I sat with them day in and day out, found myself on a puppy schedule, napping when they did, eating after they were finished, running to the bathroom in those few short moments between feeding and cleaning and then feeding again. The first time I left them in someone else’s care, I found myself paranoid beyond my expectations. “What if one of them gets smothered by another puppy?” or “What if something falls from the shelf into the play pen and hurts them?” or “What if we suddenly get the first earthquake in the history of New Mexico, the window breaks, and the walls come falling down on the puppies?!”
Needless to say, when I came back from my short departure, the puppies were all fine, unaffected by the paranoia that had been swirling through my brain. Alice proved it a little more when one day she climbed out of the play pen and fell flat on her face. I went running across the room to comfort her, and by the time I arrived, she was already distracted by a very chewable paper towel roll a few feet away.
Phase 4 - The Teenage Years.
My teenage years are still fresh enough in my mind that I have no trouble whatsoever remembering all the yelling and screaming my mother and I did at one another. Over and over again, you hear mother’s talking about how they can’t believe their son/daughter would act this way toward them.
For the first few weeks of life here, all six of the puppies were sweet, lovable, moldable balls of fluff, completely dependent on humans for everything. They were cuddly, fell asleep in our arms, and licked at our faces anytime we were nearby.
One day, however, as I was cuddling Sabine, who originally slept on my chest every night and needed constant assistance in eating, I bent over to kiss her and a snarly growl escaped her mouth and she snapped at my face. A few seconds later, I felt a drip of blood, caused by “my sweet baby.”
Now, sometimes when I go to discipline the cubs for chewing on electrical wires, or put them into the sink for a bath, they scream and snarl and snap. While I know it is only for their own benefit, it is still heart-breaking to feel their anger and distress.
Parents of teenagers know that when they tell their 16 year old, “No you can’t go to Woodstock,” or “No you can’t go to that college party with some guy I’ve never met,” it is only for their own safety, however, those slamming doors, stomps around the house, and harsh words about “I hate you and I’ll never forgive you for this!” Are still devastating. I suppose the only plus size to a human teenager, is that they don’t have nearly as sharp teeth.
Phase 5 - Pride.
Through all of the hard work, all of the diaper changing, all of the late-night feeding, and all of the discipline and heart-breaking cries, the first steps of a toddler, or that young adult finally reaching for his or her diploma fills all parents with pride.
After scooping poop, mopping floors, being covered head to toe with scratches and scrapes and constantly smelling the many odors of puppy in my own hair and clothing, the first time the six little puppies, now 15 lbs in size grouped around me to raise their tiny little mouths to howl, I almost wept. The first day they were able to romp and run outside, I stood with pride watching their first explorations in a new world. And even the first time I saw two of the boys begin a dominance ritual, I couldn’t help but smile.
The experience these puppies have given me thus far is a dream that many people have but will never get the chance to understand. Few people realize how difficult it is to raise wolf cubs in an appropriate setting, and even here, we are still learning every day.
But if nothing else, watching six little wolf puppies go from bottle feeding to playing in an enclosure outdoors has given me quite the insight into what parents of all types of children go through.