Robbers Attacked A Fisherman’s Hut. Once They Saw What Was Inside, It Was Already Too Late To Run…

A Fresh Start in the Wilderness

It had been a particularly snowy winter in Oregon. Charles Morris, trudging through the snow drifts on his snowmobile, grumbled about it every time and looked forward to the arrival of spring. His house was right by the woods, and the elderly man, no matter the season, always enjoyed the spectacular beauty of the wilderness.

Of course, the road leading to his house was not a pleasant one, but Mr. Morris tried not to pay much attention to it. He had recently moved here and hardly considered himself an old-timer. The fact was that after 15 years of working a hazardous job, Mr. Morris’s health had deteriorated rapidly.

His cough, shortness of breath, and high blood pressure caused him to reconsider his attitude towards life in general. The endless medical examinations, the therapeutic and prophylactic treatments—none of these worked, and in the end, they left the old man feeling dejected. Fortunately, among a panel of doctors, there was one physician who advised Mr. Morris to change his place of residence and move to an area with cleaner air.

Thus, selling his place in Louisiana, Mr. Morris bought a house in Oregon where, away from the hustle and bustle of the metropolis, he could finally breathe clean air. A lumber yard keeper, Charles lived like a true hermit, feeling at one with nature every second of the day. In time, Mr. Morris had become addicted to fishing and spent all his free moments on the lake.

The Discovery in the Snow

He rarely went to the store, preferring to stock up on groceries, especially during the winter when the beautiful landscape was covered by snow. One day, while atop his snowmobile and on his way back from shopping, Mr. Morris saw a small gray beast running across the well-trodden path. In the process, the mysterious little thing nearly got run over by the skids of the snowmobile.

Mr. Morris stopped and looked around. The old man got off the snowmobile and, seeing a series of small footprints leading into the bushes, stepped closer. There, among the thickets covered with the thick layer of snow, Mr. Morris found a little wolf pup watching him warily through its beady eyes.

“Hey little fella, what are you doing out here alone in the middle of the woods? You must be lost, or did you get caught by surprise in the blizzard?”

Mr. Morris asked excitedly.

Of course, the wild creature couldn’t give the elderly man who was trying so hard to become friends with him a real answer. All of a sudden, the gray pup climbed up on his paws and, wiggling his black nose from side to side, began breathing in air noisily. Mr. Morris turned around and saw a bag of groceries lying in the basket of the snowmobile and understood at once.

“Oh, so you must be hungry, right? Give me a sec, little guy, I’ll be quick,”

said the elderly man.

He took a folding knife from his pocket and cut off a strip of meat for the wolf pup. The pup, grunting happily, accepted the treat, almost biting Charles on the finger.

A New Companion Named Lord

When the wolf pup had eaten enough, it crawled out of its hiding place in the bushes and fearlessly approached the old man.

“Well, what am I supposed to do with you? I can’t leave you in the woods; you’ll die out here. Come with me. I live alone and you won’t be a bother,”

suggested Mr. Morris, and put the animal behind the pouch on his down jacket.

To his surprise, the wolf pup behaved calmly as if he had ridden in a snowmobile all his life. When he arrived at the house, Mr. Morris opened the door and, pulling the little forest animal out from behind the pocket, invited him inside. The little wolf fluffed up at first, ruffling his fur as he smelled an unfamiliar odor coming from the man’s home.

Then, he shook himself off as if to clean himself up and stepped hesitantly over the doorstep.

“Look at you, all well-mannered just like a real lord. That’ll be your name, won’t it? Lord,”

Charles said in admiration and closed the door behind him.

In the heat, the wolf pup warmed up and, after eating another portion of meat, laid down to sleep by the fireplace. He didn’t look like a woodland predator; he looked like a puppy, thought Mr. Morris, wiping away a tear.

The Call of the Wild

Lord lived in his house for about a week, and then, when the weather improved, he begged to go outside. Once there, after giving Mr. Morris a long, grateful look, the wolf pup ran off into the woods.

“Well, I guessed he must have felt the call of his ancestors,”

sighed the old man, watching the pup fleeing.

The wolf pup had been gone for about two days, and when Mr. Morris had mentally bade him farewell, the wild predator came to him himself. He found the old man at the lake where the man, taking advantage of the good weather, decided to fish.

“Ah, so you remember, you little brat!”

exclaimed Mr. Morris, petting the wolf pup.

In response, Lord turned and twisted and licked the old man’s cheek. From then on, the wolf pup paid periodic visits to Mr. Morris, mostly in the evening or evening hours. Often his arrivals coincided with the worsening weather conditions, which would consistently bring blizzards and cold weather to the area. For this reason, Mr. Morris jokingly called Lord a “barometer” for his innate sensitivity and alertness.