I thought I’d rescued a filthy abandoned puppy but after I bathed it, I realized with horror it wasn’t a dog at all… – StoryV

I thought I was rescuing an abandoned puppy.

On my walk home from the chemical plant where I work in Bellingham, Washington, I noticed a small, filthy shape on the riverbank near the Nooksack River. It was barely moving, half-buried in mud after days of heavy rain. When I got closer, I saw it was breathing. Covered in grime, shivering, and no bigger than a loaf of bread, it looked like a discarded puppy that someone had cruelly thrown away.

I wrapped the trembling animal in my jacket and carried it home, anger and pity knotting in my chest. Inside my bathroom, I filled the tub with warm water and gently began washing away the mud. That’s when the unease started. Beneath the filth was not soft puppy fur, but thick, coarse gray hair. The ears were too long. The paws were far too big, tipped with sharp, black claws.

When the creature lifted its head and met my eyes, my breath caught. They weren’t brown or blue. They were amber—bright, wild, and unmistakably predatory. A low growl rumbled from its chest, not aggressive, but warning.

This wasn’t a dog.

Panic set in as the realization hit me: I had brought a wolf cub into my home.

Unsure what to do, I called a local veterinarian, who confirmed my fear. The cub had likely been separated from its pack by flooding. He advised me to keep it warm overnight and return it to the riverbank in the morning, giving its family a chance to find it.

At dawn, I did exactly that. I set the cub down near the trees and stepped back. After a moment’s hesitation, it disappeared into the forest.

Then I heard it—a chorus of deep howls rolling through the mist. And moments later, a thinner voice answered.

The pack had found it.

I walked away shaking, knowing I’d done the right thing. For one night, I had held something truly wild in my hands—and then, I let it go.