I saved a dirty, sad animal, thinking it was just an average puppy… However, after cleaning it at home, I discovered to my horror that it wasn’t a dog at all, but…
I am employed at a facility that manufactures chemicals. The factory is nearly at the edge of the forest; it takes roughly 10 minutes to walk from the entrance to the river. I frequently use the riverfront route to get home after work.
A thin mist hovered over the river in the cloudy evening. A mass of dirt, grass, and fur caught my attention close to the riverside as I turned to head for the bridge.
I initially assumed it was just trash, but then the lump started to move. I approached… I noticed it was breathing.
The creature was little and completely drenched. Its eyes were scarcely open, its ears drooped, and its fur was matted with grime.
“Poor puppy,” I muttered.
Given that the river was nearby, someone must have abandoned it or maybe attempted to drown it. I was overcome with sympathy.
It was a small, shaky, warm body that I carefully took up. It rubbed itself trustingly on my hands and let forth a quiet moan. I quickly went home after wrapping it in my jacket.
The dirty creature shuddered the entire time, but I couldn’t tell if it was from fear or the cold.
At home, the first thing I did was fill the bathtub with warm water to wash it. I knew I wasn’t holding a puppy when the dirt started to fall off when the water touched its fur.When I realized what it truly was, I was appalled… 
Initially, I was just relieved to see its true color at last; thick, gray fur showed through the gray-brown coating. However, the more I cleaned it, the more intense the weird sensation became within me.
The fur wasn’t like that of a dog; it was too coarse and thick. The ears were a tad too long and pointy. Additionally, the paws are big and have strong claws.
I went cold. The tiny creature looked up, its amber eyes glimmering dimly in the dim light of the restroom. And it growled softly.
My heart sank. This wasn’t a puppy.
After carefully wrapping it in a towel, I called a familiar veterinarian and informed him that I had discovered “a wounded dog near the forest.” He consented to visit us immediately.
The veterinarian’s expression changed the moment he saw the animal at the clinic. He froze for a moment, then murmured quietly:
That isn’t a dog. A wolf cub is what it is.
I couldn’t speak. A true newborn wolf. It was weary and feeble, but according to the vet, it would survive — and most likely its group was somewhere nearby.
I returned it to its original location the following morning. I opened the door and placed the carrier on the lawn. The young wolf walked out, looked back at me one final time — and went toward the forest 
