A Wolf And His Man - 3. New Routine

When Oli woke in the morning he was filled with a great sense of peace. Buddy lay sprawled out on the other side of the bed, taking up as much space as a person, and Oli’s hand still rested in his thick fur. Oli yawned hugely, left the wolf to sleep on and got up to have a five minute shower. As he stepped out of the steamy cubicle, a continuous high pitched whimper attracted his attention.

“Shit!”

In nothing but a towel, Oli dashed to the kitchen, where Buddy was pacing tiny circles by the back door, and let the wolf out. He made a dash for the garden and the nearest shrub. Oli ran his fingers through his soaking hair with a sigh of relief.

“Sorry Buddy.”

Oli filled and flicked on the kettle as the wolf came back in with dew damp paws. He tugged at the corner of Oli’s towel.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get you your breakfast in a sec.” Oli turned away to grab a mug from the cupboard, and Buddy took that opportunity to turn and run, dragging Oli’s only piece of clothing with him. “Oi!”

The wolf yipped happily, dashing into the open plan lounge, and Oli chased him around the sofa naked with a growl. Finally he caught the end of the towel at the foot of the stairs, and Buddy turned to grin at him, tongue lolling and ears forward, looking deeply pleased with himself. Oli wound the towel more securely around his hips.

“Pervert,” he shook his head at the wolf. “Come on, you want breakfast or not?”

As Buddy ate, Oli got dressed and inspected the wolf’s injured limb. The sprain was a lot better, but Buddy still wasn’t keen on putting his weight on it at more than a slow walking pace. Oli petted the wolf’s ears gently.

“We’ll go for a walk this evening when I get back. I gotta go to work.”

Oli made sure that his bedroom door was shut and latched before he gathered the camera and his lunch to cycle to work. He realised that it probably wouldn’t matter, and Buddy would get into anywhere he wanted to go.

He spent the morning at the tattoo studio, photographing the artists at work: sketching at their light-box tables, applying transfers to the shoulder of a young woman whose pale skin would soon be adorned with flowers and small song birds, setting up their equipment, and finishing off the thick lines of a tribal sleeve tattoo. It was a good place, and the head artist was more than happy to provide Oli with a few little dip pots of some of the more colourful inks to use in the magazine layouts. The artist told him to call back anytime if he ever felt like getting inked.

Oli walked his bike through town towards the office, because trying to avoid pedestrians without getting creamed into the pavement by a bus with a grudge was tricky enough at the best of times, and impossible when laden down with a bag containing expensive and delicate cameras. On his route down past what had once been the open market and was fast becoming new, rather fancy, student housing, he found himself outside a large green fronted pet shop.

You’re being ridiculous, Oli frowned, his inner voice was getting much more opinionated of late. You can’t just keep a stray wolf as a pet after one day.

Oli rolled his eyes, parked the bike and locked it, and wandered into the shop. The last time he’d been in a pet shop had been nearly twenty years ago when Ruff had broken his adolescent dog collar and Oli had spent all of his saved pocket money on a thick red webbing strap which had lasted Ruff the rest of his life. Oli still had it, hidden away at the bottom of the drawer containing the clothes he never wore.

“Can I help you with anything, sir?” The assistant smiled at him. “We have everything for small animals and aquariums.”

“Umm, a dog collar. He’s a big dog.”

“Sure thing, this way.” The assistant walked him to the selection hanging on the far wall. “We’ve got a great range of chew toys and raw hide, he’s not busy destroying your house is he?”

“God, I hope not.” Oli chose a thick natural brown leather collar, the biggest they had, and a woven rope lead with a brass swivel clip. He also picked up the biggest rawhide chew money could buy, figuring it might last a day under the sharp teeth and determined jaws of a wolf.

He spent the rest of the day at his desk, shifting back and forth from PC to drawing table working on the layouts for the magazine spread. The inks splashed beautifully and Oli spent an hour or more playing around with the scans and layering them up over different photographs and washed out sections of text until the pages popped off the screen. He ran off three different colour way samples, and left them on the art director’s desk. Keeping a regular schedule was one thing when you were freelance, but it didn’t mean that Oli was forced to stay in the office until five. It was a nice day, the sun was out, and he wanted to spend some more time getting to know his house guest. Just as he slung his backpack across his shoulders his phone rang.

“Mum?”

“Hello darling. I always forget that you know it’ll be me. Can you imagine what we did before caller ID?”

“No.” Oli sighed. “Everything alright mum?”

“Yes sweetie. Your father and I were wondering if you were coming home this month. Full moon is in three days, darling.”

“I know.” All werewolves kept very accurate calendars. “I’m not sure, I might run over and see you guys, might not.”

“Well I’ll make up your bed if you change your mind.”

“Ok mum...” Oli prepared to hang up as he swung one leg over the frame of his bicycle.

“Darling, are you alright? It can be awfully lonely cooped up in the house by yourself.”

“I’m fine, I’ve got friends mum.”

“Alright then. Your father sends his love.”

“Bye…”

Oli hung up and stashed his phone. Hell, maybe he would trot over the Downs to his parent’s house. They wouldn’t half get a shock when he showed up with Buddy that was for sure.

*

“I always wanted a girl.” Alexander Volkov cradled the little puppy in his massive arms. “But Ruff fell for you, so we had to have him.”

Oli crossed his arms on the dining room table.

“You got so lonely without me after a week that you bought a puppy?” He grinned cockily at his parents. “I didn’t realise I was that missed.”

“Oh you.” His mother mussed his hair, and then smoothed it automatically. “Your father had her on reserve before she was even born.”

“What are you gonna call her dad?”

“Anastasia.”

“Bit fancy for an Alsatian isn’t it?” Oli arched an eyebrow. “She’s not a Grand Duchess dad. What are you gonna do with her at full moon?”

“That’s why I bought her.”

“Eh?”

“Ruff was your dog sweetie. At least, that’s how it turned out.” His mother smiled. “He was your company on the full moon while your father was away. Anastasia,” she stroked the puppy’s ears and tickled under her chin, “will keep your father company.”

“We can go running across the Downs together under the moonlight,” Alexander cooed to the puppy, “I can show you all the best views, we can hunt rabbits and pigeons in the early morning and sleep under the stars.”

Oli frowned down at the surface of the kitchen table. His father had never shown him how to hunt; he’d had to learn on his own, only to be admonished the first time he’d brought a dead rabbit home. The way his father spoke to the puppy, was a way he had never spoken to Oli, not once in twenty two years. Oli was glad that he had left home, saved up enough money and bought a house of his own. His parents had helped him with the deposit, and the house was a right state, which is why it’d been so cheap; Oli was going to be spending every free hour on renovations for the next few years. He was glad his father was so happy. Oli just wished that he hadn’t been so easy to replace.

*

The wolf sat in the centre of the kitchen floor, regarding him quizzically.

“You’re gonna have to wear it if you wanna go out.” Oli turned the collar over in his hands. “And at some point I’m going to have to get a tag made too.”

Buddy huffed, turned around in a circle, and then sat down facing the other way, pointedly ignoring his host.

“Fine, don’t come then. I’m going to the beach.”

Oli left the collar sitting on the side in the kitchen and went to get changed. His work clothes were pretty relaxed, but the weather was starting to enter the glorious phase of sunshine and temptation. The promenade along the sea front would be awash with shirtless guys, tan lines and tattoos. There would be beautiful guys to look at as they walked, and sights for Oli to add to his almost photographically accurate erotic fantasies. Being a werewolf might have stopped him from having a relationship, or getting laid, but it did not stop him from enjoying his alone time.

Oli changed into a pair of heavyweight cotton shorts and a super thin t-shirt he’d gained free from an independent designer who they’d featured once at the magazine, and he shuffled into his bright yellow and green flip flops, rubbing one hand over the beautifully inked print of crows in flight. There was a whine from the doorway.

“Oh, Buddy.” Oli immediately sat crossed legged on the floor as the wolf came forwards, carrying the thick collar in his jaws. “Come here.”

Buddy came and sat half in his lap, placed his muzzle under Oli’s chin and whimpered softly with his ears pressed back. Oli stroked his thick fur and hugged him as the wolf pressed hard against his chest.

“You wanna go to the beach too?” Oli took the collar, un-buckled it slowly, and fastened it loosely, but securely, around the wolf’s thick neck. He stroked the fur, blending the hard line and making sure that the collar was comfortable. “Let’s go to the beach.”

Buddy yapped excitedly, wagging his tail, and at the front door Oli slipped his keys into his pocket and apologised as he attached the end of the lead to the collar. He trusted Buddy not to run off, attack anyone or bark, but he didn’t trust cats not to run across the road or for drivers to look where they were going. Buddy rubbed against his leg, his fur soft and smooth against Oli’s bare skin. Just as Oli was latching the door behind him, Buddy yapped, pulling his attention to next door’s front garden.

“Hi!” Denise and her little brother were sitting in summer shorts and t-shirts on their front lawn, their legs made into a little diamond around which the two pet guinea pigs were snuffling softly. “Are you keeping him Mr Volkov?”

Oli looked down at Buddy, who was watching the guinea pigs with intention. The little girl scooped up the two fluffy bundles and handed them to her brother.

“Oscar, hold Tatters and Jumble. Don’t squeeze them. I’m going to go see Mr Volkov’s dog.”

“I wanna come!”

“In a minute kiddo,” Oli smiled at the little boy, “You come too close with your pets there and Buddy might try and eat them.”

Oscar gaped, suitably shocked, and Denise held her hand out gently to the wolf before she stroked his neck fur softly. She was cautious and respectful, and Oli remembered being that age and simply throwing his arms around Ruff the moment he got home from school.

“You called him ‘Buddy’?”

“Yes.” Oli had never been particularly good with children, but his mother kept telling him that it was only because he didn’t know any. The children who lived next door were the closest thing he was ever going to have to nieces and nephews, and Oli knew that he wasn’t ever going to have kids of his own. “You like it?”

“Yeah.” She smiled. “Hey there Buddy, stop thinking about eating Tatters and Jumble.” Buddy wuffed softly and licked her hand. “Eww! Maybe I’ll bug mum to get him some treats.” She turned to Oli. “Would that be alright Mr Volkov?”

“You can call me Oli. And yeah, I expect Buddy would like that.” He paused. “Don’t worry if you don’t see us for a bit, I’m going to go visit my parents next week.”

“Do they have a dog?”

“Yes, Anastasia. She’s a German shepherd.”

“A girl!” Denise ruffled Buddy’s ears. “Maybe she’ll be your girlfriend Buddy.”

Oli cleared his throat.

“You might wanna go rescue your brother from the fluffy rodents. We’d best go.”

“Oh Oscar!” One of the guinea pigs was trying to eat the lining of her brother’s trainer while the other sat on top of his head. Oli left his neighbours to deal with their fluffy rodents and left his front garden in the direction of the seafront.

Buddy walked at his side, the lead loose and technically purposeless, exactly as if he were used to being walked through town on a sunny June afternoon. Oli was amazed by the wolf, and chatted easily to him as they walked. Buddy seemed to be much happier walking on his sprained leg, putting his weight down on it almost fully, and though Oli figured it would be another day or so before the wolf would be running around, but he was definitely getting better.

It was busy at the beach, and Oli stood leaning on the balustrade, looking down at the pebbled beach awash with townsfolk and tourists, students having ditched the tail end of their classes, kids with their parents in remnants of their uniform, office workers on a late lunch or early dinner, suit trousers rolled up to their knees. All the seafront pubs and bars were doing a roaring trade in cold drinks, ice cream and chips, and Oli’s eyes automatically sought out cute guys with no shirts on, soaking up the sun and adoring gazes.

They didn’t walk down onto the beach proper, because Oli wasn’t sure how well Buddy’s balance would hold up on the uneven ground, but stayed on the promenade and walked away from the loud bustle of the pier towards the lawns, wide sections of flat green grass dotted with sunbathers and other dogs. Buddy pulled very slightly at his leash.

“You’re not going to run off?” The wolf whined and pressed his big head against Oli’s thigh. “Alright then.” He figured it was a stupidly risky thing to do, having just spent money and hope on the possibility of the wolf becoming a permanent part of his life, but Oli let him off the lead, and began to walk across the grass, carrying his flip flops.

Buddy stayed close for a moment, but then pelted off across the lawns, weaving around people and children. The moment Oli worried that he was never going to stop, the wolf turned and loped back, tongue lolling, and rubbed his whole body against Oli’s leg before trotting off again, nose swinging back and forth across the grass like a curious pendulum.

It was easy to keep part of his mind concentrating on Buddy’s whereabouts without actually having to watch him the entire time. The wolf’s scent had already completely permeated Oli’s house, and his brain was tuned into the reddish-ochre aroma. Buddy seemed curious, happy, relaxed, and Oli strolled across the lawns, not really paying attention to a great deal of anything at all, letting his mind snag on the details of people and colours, storing away information to use one day in some as yet unknown visual manner.

The texture of tattoos on tanned skin particularly interested him, and when Oli finally picked a spot to sit down, he found himself staring at the long muscular back of a shirtless young man with a large bio mechanical swirl and flowers inked all over his shoulder. Oli imagined a little scenario in his head where the dark haired man might turn, smile at him and come over: ask about his dog and they would sit and chat, perhaps go for a drink at the nearest bar with Buddy curled up at their feet. By the time Oli was getting the nerve together to go over and greet the beautiful tattooed man, he had been joined by a tall smiling guy with sparkling eyes who wrapped both arms around his waist and kissed him soundly. Oli watched them walk away, hand in hand, and sighed. Buddy chose that moment to prod him in the ear with a cold wet nose.

“Where am I ever gonna find a nice guy like that, eh?” Buddy whined, tipped his ears forwards, and thrust his muzzle into Oli’s crotch, taking a deep sniff. Oli pushed the wolf back from his tumescent swelling forcefully. “Don’t do that.”

The wolf huffed and licked his hand. Oli stroked his ears gently, and half a minute later Buddy had knocked him back onto the grass, and man and wolf played and rolled around as though they were both five years old and no one was watching.

*

It was an easy routine into which to settle. Buddy’s leg finished healing up the following day, and for the first time in a long time, Oli enjoyed waking up early. He showed Buddy the little hidden entranceway he had developed in the back hedge, allowing access out onto the open land of the Downs. The fields behind the last row of town houses were crisscrossed with a dozen footpaths, and as long as there were no sheep, they could walk where they liked. The pair walked for hours all over the land, Buddy sometimes running ahead, looping around in enormous circles and vanishing into hedgerows in search if rabbits and pheasants: sometimes walking gently by Oli’s side, pressed against his calf and thigh and matching him step for step.

Oli sounded out the general feeling at work about bringing his new companion for a trial visit, and Oli had the feeling that it was his boss’s shock to find out there was anything in Oli’s life other than work, that made him agree instantly. Buddy skipped along next to the bike at a soft lope as though running alongside a man he’d lived with for four days was perfectly natural. The day passed exactly as Oli had hoped, and Buddy lay at his feet and paced around the ten square feet around his desk, sniffing everything and occasionally putting his paws in Oli’s lap to peer over at his work. Oli drew little sketches of Buddy and himself on scrap corners of paper, and Buddy took each one in his teeth and carried them into the makeshift bed he’d made by Oli’s feet. When they went out for lunch, Oli stopped by the green fronted pet shop and while Buddy was being fussed over by every member of staff and customer alike, purchased the biggest fleecy dog bed he could find. When his boss made a comment about Buddy becoming a ‘permanent feature’, Oli only smiled, fingering the wolf’s ears while he wrote out chalkboard style captions for a gastro-pub advert.

Evenings were fun and lazy. They walked down to the beach, and by the time Buddy’s leg was fully better, they were wandering down to the sea where the wolf stood on the stony beech and barked at the waves as though he’d never seen them up close before. A friendly flat coated retriever wandered up to him with a happy docile smile and seemed to query Buddy’s lack of love for the water. Oli watched his wolf sit on the beach in sulky defiance as the retriever commenced splashing about. After wards they wandered home, Oli cooked a slightly outlandish lamb rogan josh for himself and fed Buddy a dinner of steak bits, and they both curled on the sofa with the TV on while Oli sketched another silly little comic about the beach, filling Buddy and the dog’s thought bubbles with pictures and question marks. Oli didn’t begrudge his wolf his fear of the sea, because he’d never been swimming in his fur either.

By the time Saturday afternoon came around Oli was lying in his back garden on the grass, sketching while Buddy amused himself. The wolf snuffled around in the shrubs, rolled around on the lawn, nuzzled and sniffed at Oli as he doodled abstract patterns in a variety of pencils and then went to bask in the sun. Oli spent most of the afternoon and almost a whole large page of his sketchbook drawing Buddy exactly the way he was. The wolf lay in the sun, all four legs sticking into the air at different angles, his paws floppy, head curved round until his muzzle almost touched his flank, tongue poking from the side of his mouth. He was apparently, completely comfortable.

Oli left wolf and sketch to go inside and collect some more art materials, and by the time the sun was thinking about going down, had used soft watercolour pencils to stain the grass around the wolf and added the pink tones to his tongue, the subtle grey shades to his fur. He used a selection of calligraphy style black ink pens to complete the drawing, rendering Buddy in lavish detail, a combination of strong lines and detailed cross hatching. It had been a long time since Oli had been proud enough of something he’d drawn to want to look at it more than once, but holding the sketch book page out at arm’s length, he could see that perhaps, after his time of the month was over, he might be taking a trip out to the framers.