There comes a time in your life when you realize that you were raised by wolves. It might not be something you know while you're still a pup. For me, The concept was something I became aware of with the understanding that came from adulthood. I've seen my siblings endure the bite a time or two, but I didn't truly embrace the realization until I had it happen to me. At first, I thought the transgression came from my sister. All of the evidence building up to that point screamed her name, so I did what anybody who regularly bottles the problems of the world did.

I erupted.

I erupted with the fury that would make mount Vesuvius blush with envy. She had been dragging her feet for over a year removing the rest of her shit from my apartment and so the night that I became aware of the situation, I threw her shit out on the lawn. Not only did I pile what she left on the cold October grass, but I threw it out not in one dumpster but I took a little bit of her shit to every dumpster within a general mile of where I live. At some point, I realized I had to piss, so I took the liberty of pissing in one of those boxes as a final fuck you.

Today, I sent a message to my mother. At this point, the family chat had been renamed to Mt. Vesuvius and featured an icon of volcano mid eruption. We're all cut from the same cloth, so I laughed at it in spite of myself. It was at this point that she confessed that she was the one who said it. I felt the stab. "Et tu Brute?" In spite of my usual composure, I had had to fold my hands under my chin and have myself a cry at my desk. Once again, I found myself breaking my streak of not crying as an adult. Only broken four times before that: Back in 2018 from a drunken rampage that was coincidentally about shit I went through in my final stages as a minor adult, once in 2015 when my negligence lead to the death my my late grandfather's dog, once in 2013 realizing that I was in over my head living three states away and that I had put myself in financial ruin, and in 2012 when I realized that my past decisions have barred me from serving in the armed forces.

At this point, I do what comes natural to having one side of your family betray you: I went to talk to Dad. He has always been the source of wisdom, virtue, and the right thing to do. From when I was a child, to now. Only now, with that perspective that comes with adulthood did I realize that he was always trying to do the right thing. Not a month goes by that I don't regret choosing the other side, and when we have our heart to hearts, I never fail to admit it.

My mother's side of the family is a pack of wolves, and My father has the stern, virtuous, intelligence of an honest working dog. A German shepherd comes to mind. I've always favored the GSD when it came to fursonas, and historically I always liked to represent myself with a Husky, or an Anubis styled jackal. Today, I made the realization that I am a Wolf-dog. Wolf on one side, German shepherd on the other. I will never spend a second regretting my heritage as you can never change your origin no matter how hard you try and run for it. I embrace it. I will hone it to the best my template can manage, and then some.

With that being written I go on to say, not everybody's parents are good. Some—like my current boyfriend—are people that in a parallel world where consequence doesn't exist I would murder before breakfast and enjoy my meal of choice without so much as a second thought. If the only good thing that either of your parents have given you was your genetic template, take that one gift they have given you, and reforge it into the best thing the world has ever seen.