Wolf squirmed upon his chair, but that was nothing new, just his typical mode of behavior during these Sunday get-togethers. Virginia’s grandmother always set his teeth on edge what with the apprehensive looks and nervous jumping whenever he got too close [they’d never been able to totally convince her that she and Wolf had never met before the engagement]. But today was especially difficult.

The baby had been restless last night, punching and kicking, causing Virginia discomfort and making sleep out of the question – for both of them. Finally, around dawn, they’d managed to drift off, awakening a little after eleven, which left very little time to get dressed and out the door before becoming unfashionably late. He had managed to scarf down some breakfast, but only two bacon sandwiches instead of his usual six. Now his stomach was beginning a not so low, rumbling complaint. The soggy cucumber sandwiches, minuscule cups of tasteless chicken broth and dry tea cookies The Grandmother [he always thought of her in those terms] called “luncheon” only served to further agitate his gastric tract. Huff-puff, he’d had more palatable fare in prison. A Wolf required meat – rich, red, and marbled with thick veins of juicy fat!

His mouth watered and he swallowed hard. In an attempt to distract his mind and stomach, he fidgeted with his linen napkin, folding it into various abstract forms, well aware that he’d be receiving more than the none-too-subtle looks of exasperation Virginia was directing at him if he did what he wanted so desperately to do and shredded it. Unfortunately, one of the shapes looked way too much like a rabbit and he crushed it between his palms.

With the image of a fluffy, plump, succulent bunny vivid in his mind, his stomach, unaware of the niceties of etiquette, made its need known in no uncertain terms. Receiving an affronted stare from The Grandmother and a glare from a red-faced Virginia, Wolf coughed discreetly and miserably crossed and uncrossed his legs. Finally, unable to sit still any longer, he excused himself to the bathroom.

Once clear of the parlor he made a beeline for the kitchen. There had to be something in there fit for a famished canine to gnaw upon. Yanking open the refrigerator door he starred in horror and dismay at the sparsely occupied shelves. Even Old Mother Hubbard’s cupboard had never been so bare! With growls of frustration mounting he raced about, throwing cabinet doors wide and giving their contents a frantic run through, and uncovering…nothing.

 At last, over the washer and dryer in the utility room, he struck paydirt…sort of. Stacked in neat rows were a dozen cans of dog food – “Caesar Select Dinners with beef in meaty juices”. It was the “…with beef in meaty juices” that did the trick, otherwise he’d never have lowered himself. Tearing the foil he sniffed cautiously at the gelatinous mess. It smelled okay, so he took a bite. Grimacing, he spit the food back into the can. Never had he thought he’d pity dogs but if that was what they had to subsist on then they had his sincere condolences.

Suddenly, the hair rose on his neck and, with teeth bared defensively, he whirled around to face the door. Roland, The Grandmother’s pampered poodle, stood in the doorway. When the dog spied the can Wolf still clutched, it crouched and issued a deep proprietary growl.

Wolf’s eyes narrowed, not in fear but assessment. He’d never noticed before, but mollycoddled Roland was one porky pooch. The dog’s growl shrank into a whine when Wolf’s eyes flashed gold.

Wolf halted just outside the parlor door, belched, then swept into the room, his naturally exuberant spirits restored. With a courtly gesture he kissed The Grandmother’s hand and then that of his creamy dreamy love, surprising them both [although Virginia did eye him suspiciously], then he sat down with a flourish, giving them a big wolfie grin.

All was right with his world now. In fact, he’d managed to kill two birds with one stone. Not only was his hunger satiated but [fingering the rhinestone collar in his pocket] he was pretty sure there’d be no more visits to Grandma’s House any time soon.