Under the Moon's Embrace

A Cozy Night with the Czech Wolfdog

The night air was chilled by the high hum of the air conditioning, rendering the room excessively dry. With a slight shift in position, I found myself abruptly awake. A glimmer of green light caught my eye at the foot of the bed, causing my sluggish mind to jolt with alarm. Hastily reaching for the bedside table, my abrupt movement sent my glasses tumbling to the floor.

In the darkness, composure returned to me, and I realized that the first step was to illuminate the room. With a backward sweep of my hand, I activated the motion sensor light above, casting a dim glow over the figure approaching from the foot of the bed.

Yes, it was the Czech Wolfdog from the innkeeper's household that I had invited into the room earlier in the night. It proved to be so sensible and well-behaved, refraining from drooling or making any untoward noise.

Perhaps sensing my disquiet, the large dog approached quietly, picking up the glasses from the floor and gently placing them on the bedside table. Witnessing its gesture, I couldn't help but soften, "Thank you, you're such a good boy."

Though my facial expressions remained understated, my tone was gentle as I watched its perked ears. Part of me wanted to caress them, yet upon seeing my raised hand, it voluntarily retreated to the foot of the bed, creating some distance between us.

Was this a signal not to be touched? I couldn't shake off my bewilderment at the notion of a dog disliking being touched. Did it dislike contact from those other than its owner? Yet, here it was, venturing out to play, yet behaving as though it were a paragon of virtue.

Moistening my lips, I dialed the phone on the bedside table. Forgoing the room's kettle, I requested a large container of water from the front desk. After quenching my own thirst, I proceeded to offer some water to the large dog.

The dog drank about a third of the container, seeming quite parched, yet it did not disturb me. Instead, it quietly endured, displaying remarkable self-control.

Glancing at the time on my phone, it was past three o'clock, and I had managed to sleep for at least three hours. This dog probably hadn't slept a wink. As I settled back into bed, it remained steadfast at the foot, akin to a loyal sentry.

Despite having drunk water, I wasn't particularly drowsy. I propped up my pillow and reached for my phone to browse. Despite lowering the room's temperature by a few degrees, it remained uncomfortably hot and dry. I kicked off the blanket, revealing my legs clad in a nightgown.

At the foot of the bed, the large dog turned its head away, its gaze fixed on the door rather than on me.

The chat group was eerily quiet, with Ouyang Jing and Liumei both sound asleep. Recalling their discussion about dogs during the day, I aimed my phone camera at this beautifully robust creature.

Intentionally dimming the lights and muting the sound, I attempted to capture a candid shot. Yet, at the moment of capture, the dog lowered its body, deftly evading my attempt.

Was it mere coincidence, or a deliberate act?

Failing to capture the moment didn't faze me; there was no urgent need to share it with the group. Relinquishing the endeavor, I casually browsed a few forums and stumbled upon several threads about training large dogs.

Diving into these discussions, I found myself stealing glances at the large gray dog, which exuded an aura of refinement. Perhaps it could understand some simple commands with clear instructions and a composed demeanor, avoiding the pitfall of overwhelming it with too much information.

After watching a few instructional videos, I pretended to sit cross-legged at the head of the bed, this time gazing directly at its profile. With its soft gray fur, stern profile, and piercing golden eyes, it was undeniably the most handsome large dog I had ever encountered.

As a restless and bored woman unable to sleep, I naturally sought to engage with one of the only two living beings in the room. Snapping my fingers in its direction, I noticed a slight twitch of its ears, yet its gaze remained fixed on the door as if it held a magnetic allure.

Unable to draw its attention with a single gesture, I felt a pang of embarrassment. Straightening my posture and adjusting my nightgown, I issued a command in a firm and measured tone, "Listen, look at me, be good."

There was a faint sound of its tail brushing against the carpet. After a few moments of silent immobility, the dog turned its head and looked at me.

"Wow."

I smiled with delight. If the dog responded to commands, should it be rewarded to foster a positive cycle?

Glancing around, I slipped out of bed, slipping on my slippers to rummage through my backpack. I found a packet of pork jerky, consuming a small portion should pose no issue.

Unpacking the larger package and then the smaller pouch within, I tore off several palm-sized pieces of meat, ensuring they were small enough to prevent choking, and then offered them to the dog.

The large dog crouched on the ground, its gaze fixed on my fingertips. It didn't eagerly rush forward to snatch the jerky; instead, it seemed to be waiting for me to place it on the ground.

After a moment's thought, I instructed, "You may eat it like this."

It seemed somewhat resigned, with drooping eyelids, it opened its mouth, deftly avoiding my nails with its sharp fangs before gingerly taking the meat.

The teeth in its mouth, how were they different from those of other dogs? Were they too sharp? But then, Czech Wolfdogs were indeed a mix of wolves, so resembling one wasn't surprising.

Not dwelling on this minor detail any longer, I fed it the jerky. Once finished, it didn't lick my hand, nor did it make any effort to avoid touching my fingers while eating.

Rather than call it training, it seemed more like it was indulging me.

Though it felt odd to entertain such a notion, that's how I perceived it. However, because of the dog's compliance, I found myself emboldened to push further.

"Let me touch you."

Reaching out towards it, this time the dog didn't recoil, but instead endured, remaining rooted to the spot.

I noticed something intriguing; its eyes followed my hovering hand, displaying a hint of nervousness at not knowing where my hand would land on its body. Yet, even with this tension, it didn't bare its teeth at me. Some dogs truly possessed a remarkable tolerance towards humans.

My hand descended from mid-air onto its head. Its ears folded under my palm, and I rubbed gently, observing its tail swaying like a pendulum behind it.

With this, I overturned my previous speculation; it seemed to enjoy being touched after all. If it didn't, it would surely express its disapproval, at the very least by dodging or baring its teeth at me.

The gray fur beneath my palm had a slight firmness to it, and with a firmer rub, some loose hairs fell out.

From the top of its head to its back, the sensation was quite pleasant. The undulating muscles beneath the surface made me appreciate its robustness, instilling a sense of tranquility within me.

Concerned about its injury, I refrained from issuing commands like rolling over, sitting, or jumping. I would have to inform the innkeeper tomorrow morning that her dog was injured.

Having bonded with the dog, I felt quite content. I gently patted its head and said, "Go to sleep, good night."