A wolf got into my house back in 2013.

part2

I posted my story a few years ago, but I finally have time to continue it.

This happened in 2013 and was the first of the encounters...

I heard the hissing; the shattering of the lamp, and I dismissed them both as being part of my dreams. It was around 2 am and I was asleep in my locked home in Northern Minnesota when a very unique, very pungent scent first found my nose; alerting my other senses.

I wasn't able to relate the scent at this drowsy moment in time, I remember it being familiar, but out of place, and anything out of place in my home sticks out worse than a duck amongst geese.

Subconsciously, I traced back the brief moments before my waking and I remembered the hissing, I did have a cat, and I remembered the shattering, there was a lamp in the guest bedroom. At first I piece it together without considering the smell; completely forgetting about it as a piece of the puzzle. The cat must of knocked over the lamp.

Whatever cat, I thought, I am going back to sleep. It had to be the cat.

Another loft of air reaches my nostrils from under the door, carrying the scent once more to my tired senses. A cool chill races up my spine when I come to the conclusion that there is no way my cat smells that way, and that there must be something either dead in my drywall or there is something in my house. Was that something right across the hall in the guest bedroom?

A smooth drape of lunar light filled my bedroom, and outside the window the stillness of the boarding forest brought me greater uneasiness. I stared at the inconsistent shadows of the trees for merely moments, but something told me that if there was something it my house it birthed from those stupid trees.

I roll my feet out of bed and walk over to the bedroom door. Across the room I can hear my 9 month old son's tiny breaths as he sleeps; his mother is back in Indiana finishing up the winter semester.

Looking back towards the door, I step closer, and with each step the stench grows more and more thick; the smell of rot and wet fur. Despite every muscle, reflex, instinct, and better judgment I have, I still grab ahold of the knob and turn; a small mechanical click fills the room and I pause, looking back.

My thoughts race to my son once again: Whatever is outside this door, if anything, is not getting in this room!

I gently bring the door ajar.

At a glance nothing seemed out of place; all the doors were still shut, except for the ones to the guest bedroom across the hall, but I left those open to let in the sunlight. Then I heard a familiar, yet, out of place sound; a licking sound; almost as if some dog or cat were slurping the last bits out of their feeding bowl. I could barely hear it over the sound of my heart beating; it was as if all my other senses had deployed to higher levels of awareness, which I am certain science could explain.

I crept one foot outside my bedroom door to peer around the small edge of the wall, towards the source, careful, and desperately praying the floor did not creek.

A small night lamp plugged into an outlet near the floor of the hallway gave off a golden patch of light onto the (kinda) tan carpet. Near the top of the stairs, a waist high banister blocked them from view. I saw nothing in the dim light, but that sound was still there, slurping.

I remember this moment well. This was the moment when I realized that it had to be something. Something or some animal is in my house! I nearly froze right there at the thought. A thousand critters must have ran through my head in those brief seconds; my mind always pausing at the worst, refreshing my fears.

I looked back into the bedroom at my sons crib as he slept, and then my eyes darted towards my dresser, where I knew a loaded .45 sat in waiting. Did I buy it for a situation like this? I always pictured home invasions, but never this. Whenever a time comes where a pistol would ACTUALLY come in handy, you will always second guess....Don't!

Turning towards the door again, I looked around the edge of the wall towards the light at the top of the stairs, still nothing. The vacant patch of light was still vacant to my relief, but as I stared for a few moments more I saw the faintest of shadows begin to move towards it. I watched in terror as a dark, dark brown, nearly black hair covered hind leg revealed itself in the light!

The sight of it, oh fuck, the sight of it left me with nothing! I felt as if something inside me had dropped, spilling whatever courage I had onto the carpeted floor. I stood motionless, seconds from shock, starling.

The paw was nearly the size of my own hand with four deep black claws digging into the floor, hidden in the carpet. I could see the tendons of it's hind leg flex as it stood there, distracted by something out of sight. My eyes traced up his leg and began to make out the outline of its tail, which was parallel to the floor.

Wolf! FUcking shit! Wolf! Wolf! That day I mentally cried wolf. I screamed it deep in my conscious! There was a fucking wolf in my house!

The wolf; my son; myself; we were all that existed at that moment. I could think of nothing else that mattered.

Without thinking about it, I shifted my weight causing the floor to unload a long drawn creek, and my heart nearly exploded.

The wolves visible leg seized instantly; the slurping stopped, and quickly it revealed the outline of it's head above the banister; it' two dark ears at the alert; it's long nose aware of my presence.

I did the only thing I could think of at that moment: I yelled at it. In hindsight I should have went for the gun first.

I took all my muster able courage to pull together the meanest, deepest, most stern voice I could produce and yell: "Hey!"

Startled and with a loud huff, the wolf bolted into the guest bedroom, in the far door, around the bed in a few large bounds, before coming to a stop under the door across from myself, six feet from my bedroom door, which I was halfway out of.

I could hardly make him out in the dim light, but he sure as hell was there; its vicious growls gave proof to that; its snarls didn't have to be seen to know that it felt threatened.

"Hey! Hey! Hey fucker! Get outa here!", I kept screaming, trying desperately to get him to go out the way he got in. I was sweating, although I couldn't feel nothing, no pain, no heat, but only a terrified sort of anger. I was punching walls, stomping on the floors, screaming at the top of my lungs, and doing everything to appear unafraid, when in all reality I was no more than three seconds from shitting myself.

The wolf stood there, unwavering. I swung out my arm around the corner wall in an attempt to reach the hallway light switch, a miss! I try again with success, oh, but how I wish I would have left them off. Mystery has a subtle comfort to it, it shrouds things, and sometimes it is for the better, but when you actually have to see you fears, face to face, in the light, well that leaves nothing unaccounted for. My eyes adjusted and I instantly regretted that choice.

There before me stood the largest wolf I have ever fucking seen. He rose just above my waist, dark eyes fixed intently on me, his head perched with his ears hunched back, a mix of black and dark brown made up his coat. Every one of his pearly white, red dripping teeth, shown when it's snarls filled the hall. The hairy skin of his long mouth wrinkled back showing the actual size of his bite. Its growls hid its intentions, as fresh blood dripped onto the carpet from its ready jaws.

Words could explain how terrified I was, but I lack the skill to do it. All I knew was that it was going to come at me in a matter of moments.

I screamed. I yelled. I cursed. I slammed. I did everything I could think of and still the wolf looked ready to pounce!

It took a step forward and I yelled louder. It took another two steps forward, and without thinking I retreated and shut my bedroom door; slamming it in the wolves face. Fuckkkk that!

I flipped on the lights and stumbled to the dresser that housed my pistol. I grabbed it, chambered a round, and turned once more to the bedroom door.

My son was crying. Why hadn't I heard him earlier? I ran to the crib, pistol in hand, and comforted him. My eyes were watering, every hair on my body stood up end, and I was shaking.

While holding him I looked over to the closed door and knew that I wouldn't be able to open it again. I would just have to wait it out. Not just for my sake, but for my infant son who sort of needs me. I couldn't just go off and fight a pissed off, home invading, fucking wolf!

There was no phone or computer in my room, so my son and myself would have to wait it out and hope it left. My crying son in one hand and a loaded pistol in the other, I sat at the edge of the bed, unable to sleep, never taking my eye off the door, watching the shadows move through the gap.

It seemed like hours before I heard it run down the stairs and onto the hardwood of the kitchen, it's claws making a clicking sound upon contact with it. The bushes began to rustle outside and from the house I saw him dart off into the trees, disappearing. Eventually a long howl filled the morning atmosphere, and a few more wolves joined in.

That night I lived a fucking nightmare and survived, but this was merely and introduction. These dip stick wolves have been spoiled and desensitized to humans; they get close....really close...I called the DNR; they seemed interested, but never bothered to followup.

The next morning I opened my bedroom door, with my son in his crib, and my pistol in hand. I found my cat, Bozart, in fucking pieces at the top of the stairs, nearly causing me to throw up. His blood stained the carpet and contributed to the trail of prints that traced the events of the night prior. The rest of the house showed no signs of wolf.

It took two weeks before I discovered how the wolf entered my home, but fortunately I starting taking precautions: every door in the house closed and locked, including the attic and basement; I never slept without my son in the same room and a gun within reach. I suspected it entered my house anywhere from 1-2x a week without me knowing. You could always tell when something uninvited enters your home...always...

Again, this happened in 2013 and was the first, but not the last of my dealings with these wolves.