There are two types of dog lover, those that ask if a strange dog is friendly before petting it and those that don't. I am pleased to report that 6 out of 10 women and 5 out of 10 men pet my dog first. I think the difference may be that women are more confident in their ability to read body language. I’m told that his tail wagging in combination with a face that says "I’m very pleased to meet you" make him irresistible. The point is; when the majority of a select personality type (you can’t deny it) sees a friendly dog on the end of a leash with a dog-lover on the other end, they pet first and ask later. Even though I enjoy the attention Czar gets, I recommend asking first.

Then comes the question that I wait for, "What kinda dog is he?" As I answer, it’s important to monitor the reaction closely because I’m keeping a record. When told, "He's a wolf hybrid." both genders respond the same way, "Wow, he sure is friendly!" As if to say, "Whew, I’m glad he didn’t go for my throat." Therefore, I conclude that my dog should be considered for the prestigious title: Good Will Ambassador for the much maligned wolf hybrid.

The premise of this tomb is that all dogs, regardless of size or subspecies, can be dangerous. The larger the dog, the greater the danger. The real issue is responsible ownership, not subspecies.

Individuals opposing the idea of owning a wolf hybrid, as well as other breeds, may not believe it; but the dog-lovers that I meet are unanimous in their acceptance of Czar. Problem is, the opposition is more active, politically speaking. I'm concerned that if breed banning continues the way it’s headed, the ATF may become the ATFD. Terrific, just what we need, 'Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, & Dogs' agents analyzing blood samples to determine the genetic make-up of dogs. Of coarse I'm kidding; but if there were an easy way to distinguish between subspecies of Canis lupis, it isn’t too farfetched. If you think about it, the powers that be have gone from banning specific breeds to mixed breed banning. Sounds like we’re already on a slippery slope.

Just in case you didn’t catch it, some jurisdictions have added the wolf hybrid to a list of prohibited dogs. To illustrate the point, here is an excerpt from a homeowner’s insurance policy, indicating the impact of misplaced hysteria. Both company name and clause designation has been changed to protect the innocent, that’s me.

NATIONAL CASUALITY INSURANCE COMPANY

The narrative part of this presentation is true and is based on personal experience, well-reasoned opinion, and research. My research and opinion may come into question but wolf hybrid opponents don’t present well reasoned or researched* arguments.

The story began almost forty years ago with a Siberian husky/Gray wolf (Canis lupis), and continues today with a Malamute/Gray wolf. I am sharing this story because I believe that, in large part, the wolf hybrid controversy is based on an unreasoned fear of wolves, rumor, and the news media’s tendency to play on sensationalism.

News hounds don't report most DOG BITES HUMAN stories because they’re not sensational enough to sell papers or get good television ratings. But you can expect to see and hear more of the following; location and dates have been changed for obvious reasons.

This local news blurb told only part of the story. Reports of its type have been repeated many times with little variation, usually out of context. Try as you might, you will find it difficult to get any accurate details as to why and how these attacks happen? After all, newspapers are ‘for profit businesses’ and the editor’s line, "if it bleeds, it leads," goes a long way toward explaining editorial objective.

The child was treated for abrasions, 8 puncture wounds, and was released within 4 hours. The dog turned out to be a German Shepherd and did not have rabies but was subsequently euthanized as a condition of an out of court settlement. There was no retraction regarding the breed of the dog, the child’s condition, etc. Further investigation revealed that the child had been observed, and warned against, teasing the dog. He had been throwing stones and dragging a stick across the dog’s chain-link enclosure, on two different occasions. Just prior to the attack, he let the dog out, was knocked down, and bitten twice.

Blaming the child for misbehaving or the dog for predictable aggression makes as much sense as persecuting a skunk because it smells bad. I feel that the blame lies squarely on the child’s parents and the dog’s owner. The parents for not supervising and teaching him to respect animals, and the dog’s owner for not making certain the animal was secure. Since dogs are put to death and children are injured; the real issues in this situation are responsible animal ownership and parenting.

There is no debate regarding the fact that all domestic canines have a common ancestor. Therefore, all canines are wolf hybrids to a greater or lesser extent (*), and begin to learn aggressive behavior as soon as they have teeth. The alpha position is not achieved passively. The puppy with the biggest bite gets the best nursing position and the weakest gets the hind teat and becomes the runt of the litter. So, dog owners have to help their dogs learn how to control aggressive behavior, before their teeth and jaws become formidable.

My dog training experience has been limited to alpha male companion dogs and includes an Old English Sheepdog, Border Collie, Brittany Spaniel, several mixed-breeds, as well as the two wolf hybrids you’ll meet.

I’ve painted a biased picture, now I will balance the debate by introducing you to my first wolf hybrid.

My journey into the world of the wolf hybrid began in 1963. My dad brought a half grown Siberian husky / Gray wolf home. We called him Spike.

Anyone that entered her cage (including me) to clean, feed or play with her could see that she wasn’t dangerous and that she had a special affection for humans. To keep her from being lonely, he would put his Siberian Husky in the pen. The dog and wolf had grown up together and were best friends. As they matured, one thing led to another and Spike was a product of their second litter.

He was an outdoor dog. Considering the insulating properties of his coat, winter was his favorite time of year. He would lay on top of a hollowed out structure we’d made of old hay bales; heaped with snow, this became his high ground. Located in sparse trees at the perimeter of our yard, it afforded him a strategic look out. Extreme cold and heavy snowfall were his only reasons to be inside the manmade den.

Now comes the sad part.

Spike had an uncontrollable protective instinct when a strange animal entered his territory. There was never a problem with our farm animals. His territorial senses, instinct for self-preservation, call it what you will, caused him to attack unfamiliar animals, unless a family member intervened. As he grew, so did his territory and I knew that I’d have to break him of this selective aggression.

One afternoon a stray droopy-eared hound of some sort showed up. I remember my dad saying that city folk sometimes just drop a dog off in the country to get rid of it. We saw her before Spike did, and at first thought that since it was a female, no problem. Male dogs won’t attack a female. Right? WRONG! When we saw her, she was on the same side of the house that we were. Spike had been on the opposite side and when he came around the corner to investigate, she spotted him and took off before we could stop her. He caught her by the base of the tail so quickly that we didn’t have time to do anything but holler. Fortunately, her forward motion combined with a sharp turn momentarily dislodged her from his jaws.

That poor dog skittered under my Brother’s vintage ’50s Chevy coupe and Spike couldn’t get at her. Even though we confined him to the garage, she wouldn’t come out. We didn’t want to add to her trauma by starting the car; so, we pushed it down the road. Try as we might, she couldn’t be coaxed out until we had gone about 200 yards. As soon as she peeked out and saw no monster(s), she bolted and was still running full tilt as she went out of sight.

It became clear that Spike’s behavior would not yield to any form of acceptable correction. Everything we tried only seemed to confuse him. We came to find out that he had been well established as the alpha male in his litter. Add in the fact that when Siberian Husky puppies play-fight, the uninformed would consider their ferocity to be nearly lethal. I was hoping for a miracle, but I felt as though I was being asked to produce a three-act play after having missed the first act.

After too many near misses, the killing of our neighbor’s pedigreed Siamese cat was act three. It was decided. We would give him to a family that lived in Ontario, deep in the Canadian wilderness. Our entire family shared the pain of saying good-bye. We hoped that he could be introduce to the world he was made for but found out later that he had killed some sheep and was subsequently destroyed. He was three years old.

PART II (Fast forward to 1997) 

I arrived at about 1 PM on Sunday, June 22nd, 1997 and hadn’t taken more than a dozen steps in the direction of his front door when Patrick stepped out. He is the proud owner of King and Beast. I knew that he had anticipated my desire to see the puppies by the smile on his face. We greeted each other as we walked toward Beast’s kennel.

Pat explained that there were only two of the four male pups that hadn’t been spoken for. They were all gorgeous and round, looking more like animated stuffed toys than dogs. He pointed out the unclaimed duo and I told him that I wanted to stay and watch them play before I made up my mind. As he was leaving, he invited me to join their ‘birthday party, pig roast’ to meet a young couple that had purchased one of the pups.

I greeted Beast and received the necessary ‘maternal canine consent’ before entering the pen and was immediately gang tackled by the litter. Climbing over each other to get at me as I kneeled down was rough and tumble sport. Licking was the order of the day with an obvious preference for my face. Of the two males available, one didn’t join in the merriment but stayed at the fringe to watch. I knew that the choice was going to be difficult but my first impulse was to pick the shy one. He was nearly pure white, unlike his littermates which all exhibited the typical black and gray markings of a Malamute. With the knowledge that this would be a long-term commitment, I decided to join the human festivities and continue my deliberations.

After one can of beer and a roast pork sandwich, I told Pat that I wanted the white pup, he grinned and said, "That’s what I expected. He looks like King."

When we walked into the kennel, Beast was in the pen nursing her brood. We were pleasantly surprised to see that after some serious sniffing and nose probing, she began administering a head to tail tongue bath. After a few minutes Pat headed back to his party guests and I decided to stay and watch the puppies. A short time later, Beast decided the pups had nursed long enough and unceremoniously jumped out of the nursing pen and retired to a different part of the kennel. Suddenly abandoned with the tips of their pink curled tongues still protruding, the litter watched her leave. Moments later, the furry group became collectively aware of the strange presence. Within thirty seconds, the new puppy was set upon. The intruder wasn’t able to defend himself with his extremities being pulled in different directions. Having a nose and two ears up front, one tail in the back, and two legs on each side, made for a perfect number of appendages for the party of eight. Amidst the growling and yanking, the cries of the misfit dominated the sound effects of this canine frenzy. I couldn’t take it so I reached in and separated the combatants from their prey. As I held the newcomer, his whimpering subsided but the little guy had a serious case of the shakes. Having removed their object of aggression didn’t end the battle. With a quivering six-week-old puppy in one arm, I reinserted my hand into the snarling bedlam in an effort to ‘break-it-up’. These were puppies with a mission. Under the circumstances, one learns in a hurry that needles in the jaws of an infant dog can cause serious damage. I rolled the group in all directions and reintroduced the newest member to his adoptive pack; at which point he was once again set upon.

That was all I could take. I removed the outsider as well as my new charge and headed for the house to find Patrick. As far as I was concerned, it didn’t make sense to see his investment become a mid-day snack for Beast’s litter and it was time to start my dog’s domestication program.

"He’s smiling." She said. And he was, which we later learned was a typical Malamute trait. Black lips, turned up at the corners, lining the entire mouth, made for the look of a happy face. Contrasted against white fir with black eyes and nose, his big wide-open mouth and pink tongue made it clear that he was happy, healthy, and pleased with the world.

At that time I was away on business, three days each week. Myrna was faced with ‘single parenting’. His ability to observe and link our actions with our expectations became obvious when he started picking up a shoe to tell us it was time to go outside to play or do his business. At the same time she was training him, she was studying information from several sources including the public library, our veterinarian, the internet, wolf project specialists, and more. By week seven, we had Czar enrolled in and attending puppy training for two reasons. First, to promote his socialization with other dogs and people; and second, so that we could observe dog training fundamentals as demonstrated by a professional.

Before you start, consider the following tips, they are certain to be helpful:
-A young dog has surplus energy; run off the excess before you begin training.
-A young dog has a short attention span; and will be easily distracted.
-Bad behavior is usually the result of confusion or distraction.
–Don’t play aggressive games such as tug-of-war with your dog, they will promote aggression.
-Biting should be instantly corrected with a shockingly loud, firm "NO!" accompanied by a frown. Use a lower pitch voice when issuing a verbal correction.

Your only assumption should be that the animal wants to please you and if you are patient, you should be successful; if not, consult a professional. Above all, be patient.

Our community’s leash law prohibits anyone from allowing their dog to run free, except in designated pet exercise areas. So, Czar learned to walk at heel without putting tension on the leash. His natural desire to chase anything that moved tested our resolve. A pinch collar solved the problem, quickly and humanely.

Two months shy of Czar’s first birthday, a young man in blue awakened us at 4AM. One of the local constabulary’s finest was at our front door to inform us that our dog had been taken into custody. A neighbor had called the police to complain that a large white dog was bothering the newspaper delivery boy. The officer explained that when he arrived on the scene, the big happy dog that now occupied the back seat of his squad car, came running up to make friends. When the officer questioned the paper carrier, it was obvious that there was no problem; in fact, the boy asked if he could keep the dog. At which point the policeman examined Czar’s tags, determined that the owner lived in the neighborhood, and sent the news peddler on his way.

The officer needed to make a report to justify his time and asked if he could see Czar’s enclosure. We proceeded into the back yard to find that he’d simply lifted the latch on his kennel door and made a clean getaway. I told the kind young policeman that I would make some changes to the mechanism so that it wouldn’t happen again. That was exactly what he wanted to hear. He smiled and said, "Thank you. Have a nice day." And was on his way. Czar was given a new last name. Henceforth, he would be known as Czar Houdini.

Part III (fast forward to 4-99)

According to both, our Vet and the dog trainer, insufficient exercise leads to physical as well as mental problems. And if my cardiologist is right, a two-mile walk with the dog every day is certain to extend my life. The way I looked at it, Czar was sure to save us about $50 per month in athletic club membership fees.

At 18 months, and 52 years, respectively, I felt that a two-mile walk wasn’t enough to get a good cardiovascular workout for either of us. The solution was right there in front of me. It was as simple as putting the parts together. A man that needs exercise, a dog that loves to run, and a perfectly good mountain bike. What more could you ask for. After all, Czar already knew how to walk at heel; it was time for him to learn to trot. The only difference is that I would be on the bike.

After we’d gone around the block three times, I was sure that he understood what I expected. It didn’t take long before I discovered that, in this part of the adventure, surprises come in two forms, stationary and mobile. Some examples of stationary surprises would be fire hydrants, telephone poles, and tall grass or trees growing at the edge of the road. I quickly learned to anticipate these. A corrective or preemptive tug on the leash and a firm "NO!" was all Czar needed.

Mobile surprises were more difficult to predict. Picture this; you are traveling down a suburban street at seven to ten miles per hour on a bicycle, connected by a six-foot tether to an auxiliary engine. Furthermore, the engine is equipped with four-wheel drive, independent suspension, exceptional agility, and is capable of instant unexpected acceleration. I’m sure you can see where this is going. If you remember your high-school chemistry, a catalyst is something that kicks-off a reaction without undergoing any change. Now I know where the name CAT comes from. I also discovered that excitement, like surprises, comes in two forms, good and bad. If I were prone to cursing, I couldn’t have picked a better time. The truth is, I felt stupid. Cursing would have only served to draw more attention to my stupidity. However, I did violate one of my cardinal rules of advanced dog training, I used the ‘N’ word, more than once as a single command. It went something like this:

Czar is almost three years old today. We bike/trot, without incident or pinch collar, an average of 35 miles per week. We alternate between the pet exercise confinement on Bird Street and the walking paths and woods around Patrick Marsh for weekend free play. I plan to train him to pull me on cross-country skies so that we can keep our structured exercise program going year around. Czar continues to be an endless source of enjoyment in that his level of intelligence requires constant challenges. Which in turn, provide new adventures for me.

A few months ago, Czar and I were at the pet exercise area on Bird Street and I was treated to his first display of aggressive behavior. Considering the frequency of our visits to that facility, I thought I’d met every dog and dog owner in our part of the country. I was wrong. We met a 10 month old Rottwieler and a 2 year old Rhodesian Ridgeback that I’d never seen before. They were both beautiful specimens of their respective, highly specialized, breed. I know little or nothing of either breed but they both looked like valuable show quality animals. Amongst all of the good-natured play, for some reason, these two dogs squared off to fight. My experience has been that it is not wise to get between two dogs under this circumstance. Before I could impart this bit of wisdom to Czar, he did. He made a sound that would scare the Baskerville hound into hiding and presented a set of canines that would shame a teenage Grizzly. That ended that. Amidst the shock of an incident that from start to finish lasted no more than 5 seconds, I didn’t know what to think. Both of the other dogs understood and went about their business, playing, and Czar came to me. I couldn’t keep from praising him but had mixed emotions about the aggressiveness. It was time to call in an expert.

So, I believe the breed (careless inbreeding is known to cause problems and is a subject for a different debate) or genetic make-up of the dog plays the smallest part in its personality. I also believe that a full-blooded Gray wolf raised from a pup with sufficient human attention, affection, and patience could make an excellent companion dog.

If this narrative stirred an old memory, made you smile, or made you consider a prospective other than your own, I have accomplished my objective.