1138 days in captivity...
I apologize it’s been too long since you’ve heard from me.  I was locked up in that animals prison for 1138 days.  They tried putting me to sleep many times but I always beat them to the punch- for when I shared my blog with them they would soon become incapacitated.  One day finally, I saw my hole and made the run.  I confess the hole had been there before.  Sometimes we become so accustomed to our oppresers and cage that we fail to see opportunities even if they are staring us in the face incessantly… Â
Day 932
I am weak.  Both physically and mentally.  Although master gives me food the scraps are inadequate nutrients for a beast of my stature.  My work outs were reduced to intense staring into the 2x4 chard of broken mirror I smuggled in.  A trick for those of you who don’t have time for the gym but have more time for gazing at a mirror or own a selfie stick; find an area of the body you want to improve and gaze upon it.  Feel the world around you erode into nonexistence, the hands of the clock parachuting to a brief halt, it’s just you and your abs hurtling through space.  If you stare at your selfie long enough your strength will improve vastly.  To visualize is to be.
I always said that.  “To visualize is to be.” It sounds much nicer in wolf.  Until day 932 I never knew exactly why I understood their language verbatim.  I always found movies like The Grey and White Fang nonsensical.  I thought it was weird how it seemed as though the wolves would speak out of turn and with very little contribution to the plot.  When I was staring deep into my forearms one stormy afternoon in that dreary cage the thunder roared and the power surrendered to the blackness.  Within this great flash, my earliest childhood memories suddenly surfaced…
I was but an infant. Â 5 weeks old. Â I lay there bare skinned on the changing table. Â Parents were arguing. Â Both had wanted a girl. Â I was clearly a disappointment. They wanted me to earn my keep in the world. Â They did the only logical move; we all got on the next available flight to the northern shores of Alaska. Â As we were flying high above the Kubok national park they strapped me to a cargo crater stacked with a years supply of red meat and potatoes pushed me out.
I parachuted deep into the hills to where I soon found myself smack in the center of a good old-fashioned turf dispute between local wolf tribes; the Wachikis, the el dorados, and the Furry Death Wahananas.  My chute caught on the trees and there I was 6 weeks young strapped on to wood crater of massive amounts of meet and potatoes hanging suspended 10 feet above a massacre of gargantuan proportions…
To be continued…












