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There Is a Wolf in My House

It was the dead of night. I was five months pregnant. I woke up. Frantic. Heart racing. Blood pumping. I was sweating. I grabbed my husband and screamed “there’s a wolf in the house!” He bolted upright in bed. Confused, scratching his head, “What?”

“A wolf. I can hear it running through the house downstairs, it’s coming up for the baby. Go, go stop it.”

This article appeared in The Huffington Post, to read the rest, click here

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