The White Wolf
An angry purr vibrated against the window, prompting me to turn on the back porch light again.
“What’s wrong?”
“There is something outside. Do you have a customer who brings a large dog to the bar?”
“Of course not.” He came to stand with me at the window. “There is a pack of wolves that roam over the hills.”
“Wolves!”
“They have been here for generations, but never come to town. I don’t see anything.”
“I’m not crazy, Uncle Harris. I heard an animal out here all night.” He kissed my head, omitting an answer before going into the bathroom.