I have some friends who had an Arctic wolf. His name was Artie. He was big and powerful and yet a gentle giant for sure. He loved to sing to the moon. It was a sound that we don’t hear in the city, so I was in awe. It was like a Shakespearean character standing beneath a fair maiden’s window and seranading her. So close yet so far apart. The moon in return for his song shown her light on his white fur and made it glow. I can still feel his fur as I ran my hand down his back. I miss my friend, Artie.