When I turned eighteen, my wolf father took me aside for a talk. My son, I'm going to speak to you in your own language. It's time for you to return to your own people, the hairless people, the ones who smell of fossil fuels. But you're my family, Dad. But you're not one of us.
Wolves are wolves and people are people.
Wolves don't wear pants and carry briefcases and feel self-pity and people don't run on all fours and hunt at night. It's time for you to go back. And I came to a little farmhouse at the edge of the woods. And I walked across the yard. And there I met Grandma.