THE CHRONICLES OF MR. WOLF CHAPTER 1
THE CHRONICLES OF MR. WOLF
CHAPTER 1
Once upon a time there was a group of young people who liked to horseback ride. They belonged to a program called Opening Gaits Therapeutic Riding Society of Calgary.
At the end of class, their favorite game is What Time Is It Mr. Wolf. Mr. Wolf is very good at telling time. He is very elegant and formal, always wearing a bowtie to class. His fur is black, grey and tan and very shiny. But, have the students ever wondered what Mr. Wolf does on his days off. Well, let’s find out.
Mostly, Mr. Wolf heads for the hills to rejoin his pack when he is not at the barn. As a rule wolves like to stay in family groups with other wolves. However, Mr. Wolf is a confirmed bachelor and he also likes to be around the children at Opening Gaits. Outside of that he is usually very shy around people.
He has a very routine life in the wild, as far as a wolf life goes. He does what all wolves in a pack do. They hunt, eat, sleep and teach their young. Even the confirmed bachelors like Mr. Wolf take part in teaching the young. Also, Mr. Wolf looks forward to seeing his friends at the barn every week. His adventures really begin when he meets Tony the Pony. It’s very strange how Tony comes into his life.
Mr. Wolf had left the barn after class on a Saturday and as he was loping across the hay field near the cliffs of the river, a pony and a curious purple thing slammed out of the sky in front of him. The pony did some summersaults, slid on his butt and came to a grinding halt flat on his face near the cliff. The purple thing was not as lucky and kept tumbling over the bank.
After his heart stopped racing like a train, Mr. Wolf cautiously approached the pony. The pony was gasping for air, trying to say something. Mr. Wolf sniffed and said to himself, sure smells like a horse but it’s kind of small. The pony was small and shaggy, with beautiful golden hair on his body and a white colored mane and tail. His legs were also white. As Mr. Wolf slowly crept up to the pony, it struggled to its feet, swaying back and forth, muttering “Toot-toot-tootsie”. What the heck is a tootsie wondered Mr. Wolf.
The pony stumbled back and forth on the bank, yelling “Tootsie, Tootsie, where are you”. As Mr. Wolf crept closer to the pony he heard a little voice calling “help, help”. Mr. Wolf and the pony peeked over the edge of the cliff. Clinging to a tree root hanging below the cliff top was the funny little purple thing.
