“An invisible thread connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place or circumstance.
The thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break.”
– Ancient Chinese Proverb
Navar approaching to say good morning. Summer 2015.
Navar left his magnificent form behind him exactly one week after his 16th birthday, on the snowy first day of May, to join his siblings and his girlfriend, Contessa, who had all gone before him.
Though I miss him, as we miss anyone we love when they are gone, my heart is full of gratitude for all the time we shared, for our seven years of friendship that spanned time and space, and for everything coming directly in line to allow me to be with him this last year, to have been his caregiver for his last 9 months, and for being able to assist him in his transition, being there with him and for him in his last days through to his last moments.
Smiling in the snow. Winter, 2015.
I met Navar and his siblings, Brutus II and Akela, in 2009 after about a month of volunteering at Wild Spirit. The three were the first wolves I ever cared for. Navar and his family of tundra wolves were a shy trio from Iowa where they were zoo animals until the children’s zoo where they lived closed, and they came to Wild Spirit in April 2008.
I remember when, Angel, Wild Spirit’s former Assistant Director, took me in to meet Iowa Trio for the first time. As we stood outside the habitat that I would soon come to know by heart, visiting year after year, I asked her with excitement at age 24, ‘These are wolves?’ and Angel answered, ‘Yes, these are wolves.’ I couldn’t believe I was being trained to care for wolves so early on in my time at the sanctuary, and for the opportunity I was ecstatic. After the first day of training, however, I quickly realized why they were a low maintenance habitat.
In addition to being extremely gentle, Navar and his siblings each embodied the wolf’s natural temperament when it came to interacting with people, which is to be very shy and wary. In the wild, wolves generally avoid humans, knowing that we are by and large their only predator. Although Iowa Trio were used to seeing people coming and going in their time at the zoo and were able to transition to living on our tour path, they remained shy of people they didn’t know and were often seen in the back of their habitat during tour times. When it came to interacting with their caregiver, two of the three wanted little to do with humans. In the beginning, only the alpha male, Brutus II, was social enough to approach me.
Brutus, an enormous gentle giant with the deepest howl among the trio, was the most curious and greeted me the first time I entered the habitat. Brutus quickly became my first wolf friend, teaching me about wolf body language, pack hierarchy, boundaries, and friendship.
After a few weeks of socializing with Brutus, Navar approached to let me pet him for the first time.
Navar, Brutus and me. Summer 2011.
Though Navar had grown brave enough to approach me, it was always on his terms. He would notoriously stand as far away as possible, making me stretch a full arm’s length away from a seated position until I could just barely touch his fur with my fingertips. After a few minutes or less he would back off and take a lap around the habitat before making his way back for another tentative scratch. I was so honored that first time he let me pet him, and even more grateful every time thereafter for gaining his trust, for the fact that he had reached out to show me that he had become comfortable enough, interested enough, to bridge the gap.
With time, more of Navar’s guard dropped away, and soon he and Brutus would approach me on either side, one to my left and the other to my right, while I pet both of them. Sometimes Navar would walk up behind me while I pet Brutus and lightly pull my hair or take the edge of my tank top in his front teeth, tugging ever so slightly. He endeared me to this game by never pulling hard, and I likened it to his way of letting me know he wanted my attention. It showed me, too, that if he was comfortable enough to do that, he was growing that much more comfortable with me.
As my relationship deepened with Brutus and Navar, I began increasing the time I spent with them, frequently visiting them twice a day in an effort to strengthen our relationship. Though their sister, Akela, remained shy and wouldn’t invite me to touch her, she would always stay close, and didn't have a problem with me coming near her or spending time with her boys.
Over the five consecutive months that I cared for Iowa Trio in 2009, we progressed from having little to no interaction, to the three of them greeting me at the gate when I’d come to visit. I remember vividly the first time the three of them ran from the back of the habitat to meet me. It was after work on a hot summer afternoon. I was so touched that I wept.
Above: Brothers, Brutus, in the foreground with Navar behind him. 2009.
Below (Left to Right) : First Row - Portraits of Brutus, Navar and Akela. Second Row - Brutus & Akela, Brutus & Navar, Navar & Akela. All 2009.
After leaving Wild Spirit to move east in the fall of 2009, I would return to visit for about a week each year. Iowa Trio would always be my first stop on those visits, the three of them endearing me by greeting me at the fence each time. It was during one of those visits that Akela sniffed my hand after so many years for the first and only time.
As years went by, Navar’s pack members passed away. Brutus was the first to leave us in 2011. Akela followed him in 2013. Each slipped out of their bodies in their sleep, lying comfortably in the sun after a filling meal, as beautifully as it was unexpected. As far as we knew they were in fine health, only aging. When it was time for them to go, they simply went. Knowing that, I had always expected Navar to go in the same way, here one moment and gone the next without any explanation, but that was not the way for him.
When Akela’s passing left Navar alone and undeniably lonely, the staff at Wild Spirit paired him with the gorgeous Contessa; an extremely outgoing mid-content wolf-dog his same age who had lived at the Sanctuary for many years. Though their relationship was at first described to me by our Director as “two ships passing in the night,” the old odd couple grew closer with time, turning out to be the best thing for one another.
* * *
Contessa & Navar. Summer, 2014.
I had the honor of caring for Navar and his fun-loving girlfriend, Contessa, for their last months together on this earth. Seeing how much Navar had opened to people after he and Contessa became a pair was both touching and remarkable. It’s amazing what the right companion can do!
I treasured my mornings spent with the two of them, Contessa wildly bumping into me, practically barreling me over as I entered the gate in an attempt to get all of my attention, Navar watching until she settled down, allowing him to sneak over to my other side so that I could pet both of them simultaneously. Howling with them and hearing them howl together, two old raspy whispers, was such a joy. Half the time sitting with them on either side of me howling brought tears to my eyes as I immersed myself in the moment with them, simply being, knowing they wouldn’t be around forever, while the other half of the time I couldn’t help but giggle at their awesome cuteness. These two old souls had finally found each other, and though they were an unlikely pair, they were perfectly right for each another.
While Contessa helped Navar break out of his shell, he gave her the space she required, especially with the men she adored. At the same time, she respected (though sometimes begrudgingly) the relationship that he and I had, accepting that she couldn’t chase him off. For her tolerance of sharing my affection I would take her out on weekly walks. When she returned, Navar would be waiting for her, backing out of her way as she barged in with her regaling attitude, brushing past him, Navar slowly following her, eager to sniff her, learning where she’d been. And while she ruled the roost when it came to her people, he was dominant when it came to his food. At feeding time they would impatiently stand side by side at the fence, exaggeratedly scratching at the dirt demanding their breakfast. I couldn’t think of anyone better suited for either of them.
Over the years the physical distance between Navar and I slowly closed, as he went from standing two-plus feet away from me, to standing so close that our faces nearly touched. With time, he allowed me to stand over and beside him to give him butt scratches and massage his back. Even the way he approached me had changed, from zigzagging toward me in our early years as friends to waking directly toward me.
After Contessa passed in February of this year I could tell that although he was managing, he was naturally lonely without her. When I came to care for him in the morning he would walk up to the fence puffing out his cheeks, whining ever so quietly for me to come in, and I would whine back at him as I entered, answering him in his own tongue.
* * *
In his last month, Navar suffered on his back left leg where a mass had grown in his bone that we could only assume was cancer. All of a sudden, he lost much of the mobility he had in that leg. It was difficult for him to get up, walking and standing were arduous, and lying down became an even slower process. Over my years of knowing Navar he showed me more and more trust, and with that trust, vulnerability. Yet, the development of the issue with his leg brought a different kind of vulnerability that comes when a wild animal is injured and needs their space in order to feel safe. Knowing that, I kept my distance when I knew he needed it. There were days when I visited in the morning and it was too difficult for him to get up. I respected his needs, admired him from afar, or sat at a distance he was comfortable with, the two of us simply looking at each other.
In his last two weeks I knew he was getting closer to the end by how close he allowed me to approach him physically. Where vulnerability was arising due to his physical condition, the guard he had built up to protect himself dissipated at the same time. A surrendering of his body along with his inhibitions was taking place. He even let me examine the leg that was bothering him, allowing me to approach him while he was lying down. When I lightly touched his back left leg he extended it willingly, enabling me to inspect it in its entirety from his hip to his toes.
On April 24, a week before he passed, Navar celebrated his 16th birthday. I made him a special cake of stew meat layered with strips of steak to look like a latticed piecrust with his name spelled out on top in chicken jerky. Though his appetite was waning, he was so excited when I presented it to him, asking him if he wanted birthday cake. He stood up as quickly as he could and dug in. In his last week with us, that cake was the most he ate.
Days later, on Thursday, I prepared a bowl of food for him that he rejected after only a few bites. When I left with the bowl he followed me and stood at the fence staring at the bone I had in my food bucket that I had planned to give to a younger wolf. I knew he wanted it. When I threw it over the fence his happiness was palpable. He picked it up by the end and smiled broadly at me with the bone in his mouth, completely delighted, before he walked with it proudly to the back of the habitat. When I was cleaning his enclosure after he passed I found the remnants of that bone, only inches left. I rarely saw him eat bones in their entirety. When I found it I smiled, happy for him that he got exactly what he had wanted.
The last day he approached me was that Thursday. I walked up and sat cross-legged five feet from him where he laid in one of his favorite spots beside his hay house, saying good morning, just admiring him. When I sat down he immediately stood and walked toward me to stand directly over me with his head above mine, our faces next to each other while I pet his neck.
That Saturday, we howled together for the last time, seated side by side. It was the day I realized he was at the end. If he could get up at all, it was with extreme difficulty. We gave him some pain medication to help him feel better, which allowed him to relax his body and move ever closer toward the threshold, going further and further away in his mind. We hoped he could pass on his own, but like his girlfriend, Contessa, his survival instincts wouldn’t allow him to let go. It’s hard to see anyone we love when they are like that – in the hands of death – yet it is also a beautiful transition that we will all go through; an innocent vulnerability like that which we experience at birth. The portal was opening. Transformation was taking place.
Navar in ethereal light. Fall, 2015.
“We are here to awaken from the illusion of our separateness.”
– Thich Nhat Hanh
Navar’s last two days and nights were spent in turbulent weather. Lighting and thunder, crashing hail, snow and rainstorms passed over us. Though it was painful to see him endure it, to persevere, there was something about it that pointed to his wildness, his wild heart, and the process he went through of letting go. I always knew that Navar was resilient, but not only that: he was noble, regal, gentle, shy, polite, cautious, strong, dignified, vibrant, and always a gentleman. He had true vitality both as a young wolf and an old man.
It was after the workday on Sunday, May 1, when Animal Care Supervisor, Rae, and I prepared to assist him on his journey. Though we all wished he could go on his own, we agreed that assisting him was the right thing to do. Still, I was uncomfortable. Like the weather, like Navar, I was experiencing my own storm of emotions over those last two days, and more than anything else, more than saying goodbye, what plagued me was my fear that he would be scared.
While Rae went to tell the volunteers that we were planning to say goodbye to Navar, I stood outside his habitat holding the blankets and plastic bag with needles and syringe looking at him peacefully and comfortably lying in front of his hay house. I spoke to him in my mind, conjuring the best intentions I could, telling him he was safe, that he didn't have to be scared, that it would be peaceful and filled with love.
Though it was no longer raining or hailing, the cloud cover still loomed above and I had my thick jacket hood on to fight the cold. I was deep in thought talking silently to Navar from my heart to his heart, as if there was nothing else but the two of us, until I felt something land on my head, breaking through my concentration. Startled, I tilted my head lightly from side to side feeling whatever was on me moving with my movement. I tilted from side to side again feeling the same movement. This time whatever it was walked in a full circle on my crown. Slowly, I turned around and bowed. To my surprise and delight a blue bird flew from my head to a nearby post where it sat for several moments, looking at me as I looked at it.
A wave of peace and security washed over me. All the loving intentions that I had been sending to Navar flowed into me as if Navar and the universe were speaking to me through that spirited blue bird. I realized fully in my heart that I didn’t have to be afraid, that indeed, this was what Navar needed. This was the right thing to do.
When the bird flew away, leaving me with its everlasting message, I turned my attention back to Navar, continuing to send him positive thoughts until Rae walked down the path behind me and put her arm around my shoulder to let me know it was time.
Melding with the sky.
We entered and quietly knelt beside him. The lull in the storm continued to spare us, though the sky remained gray. He was alert, lying down with his head up. He knew we were there. With Rae’s instruction, I held off his front left leg, applying pressure while she found a vein, the three of us holding our faces, hands and arms comfortably together, inches apart. I continued holding his elbow until the needle went in and blood pulled back in the syringe. Rae asked me to let go and make sure he stayed still. I held his face gently on either side behind his cheeks, just letting him know I was there. We told him we loved him, and that everyone was waiting for him – everyone was there – Contessa, Brutus, Akela, the mom and dad he never got to know, and so many others.
As Rae steadily held the syringe, pushing the liquid into his vein he slowly and easily let go of his neck, his eyes, mouth and ears softening. He was absolutely ready. Gently, I lowered his head as he did, laying him down naturally, placing his right cheek lightly on the ground, his snout laid on his front right paw, as if he was taking a comfortable nap. Overhead, the clouds broke. The sun shined a ray of light across his face. He looked so peaceful, with a small contented smile in his lips. So handsome. Rae and I sat back on our heels and admired him, his beautiful life, his majesty, and his equally beautiful, majestic and dignified death. We held hands and shed tears, touched by how easy it was for him to let go with just a little help from his friends.
Navar’s neighbors, Storm, Zoerro and Oni, each watched the process with quiet, reverent respect, lying in line with us on their side of the fences. When we rose from beside him, Flurry started a goodbye howl, the entire sanctuary slowly, steadily, joining in to wish him well on his soul’s journey.
“The storm has passed,” Rae said, looking at the clouds continuing to part overhead shedding light over us, revealing the clear blue sky that was hidden for those last two days.
Being a part of Navar’s life has been deeply impactful, meaningful and fulfilling to me. He taught me about patience, trust and respect, and he taught me about the wolf: the gentle, wary, intuitive, enduring sides of the wolf’s nature. I will always cherish the relationship that we had. He helped me grow, and I am proud to know from a soul to a soul that I helped him grow, too. My heart feels full at the thought of it, because that’s what great friends do. Though there is a loss of his physical presence, he is not lost.
“There is no death, only the changing of worlds.”
- Chief Seattle of the Suquamish Tribe
I love you, Navar. Run free.
