Obsidian

Obsidian

Born in 2020
Arrived at Mission: Wolf in January 2022 (age two)

Did you know? It takes $3,000 a year just to feed and care for one of the wolves. By giving $5 or more a month, you can take Obsidian to dinner by becoming a Wolf Caretaker.

Obsidian’s Story

Obsidian was named for the glassy black coat he wore when he first arrived at Mission: Wolf—a name chosen with care and intention. Those who first welcomed him felt it was important to offer something grounding after the trauma of being separated from the family he had bonded with. Though obsidian is often called a stone, it is in fact a form of volcanic glass—born of fire rather than earth—an unexpected detail that feels fitting for him. Obsidian was born at a roadside zoo in Tennessee and purchased as a puppy by a well-meaning family in New Mexico. Raised as a pet, his early life was shaped by human care—a beginning shared by many canines who later find their way to Mission: Wolf.

     The family raised their little wild puppy alongside four German Shepherds in a suburban backyard, doing the best they could with the knowledge and space they had. As Obsidian grew, however, it became clear that the boundaries meant to contain him were no longer enough. He slipped beyond the fence, wandering into the neighborhood, chasing cats, and rummaging through trash—his instincts stretching far beyond the limits of a suburban life. Recognizing that he needed more than they could provide, his human family reached out to Mission: Wolf. At the time, we had an open enclosure available, secured with sturdy, canine-proof chain-link fencing that rose between eight and twelve feet high—space built for safety, movement, and the near freedom he required.

     When Obsidian arrived at Mission: Wolf, he was deeply unhappy. Early-life bonding shapes canines in lasting ways, and being removed from what he once knew (his dog companions and people) weighed heavily on him. The sanctuary—so full of space and sound—felt foreign and unsettling. The openness of his enclosure, the solitude of those first days, the unfamiliar people and voices, the constant movement of animals and visitors—all of it overwhelmed him.

He spent his early time restless and withdrawn, pacing the enclosure, unsure where he belonged. Slowly, over time, he began to notice the caretakers—not as threats, but as steady presences. Trust did not arrive all at once. It came in increments.

     With patience, consistency, and space, Obsidian began to lift out of his depression. One evening, he joined the other canines in a howl. The day Obsidian found his voice remains etched in memory. His first howl rose deep and low, a bass note so resonant it seemed to vibrate the building beside him. It was not tentative. It was not questioning. It was a declaration: I am here.    For the staff who had walked beside him through those early months, it was a moment of profound relief and quiet joy.

     In 2025, caretakers introduced Nashira as his companion. With her arrival, something shifted. Obsidian seemed to step fully into life again. The two can often be seen playing together, resting side by side, and sharing an ease that speaks of trust. Her presence awakened a lighter part of him—one that had been waiting patiently beneath caution.

     Today, Obsidian continues to unfold at his own pace. Each week, his comfort grows. Like all the wolves here, he reflects the energy of those who care for him—when the caretakers are calm and grounded, the wolves mirror that sense of safety. Obsidian remains independent by nature. He watches his caretakers closely, even when he pretends not to—averting his gaze, acting uninterested, while missing nothing.

     There is an intelligence in Obsidian that feels old and measured, paired with a sincerity that never seeks attention, yet quietly commands respect. With Nashira, another side of Obsidian emerges. His cautious nature softens, replaced by movement that feels lighter, more playful, more at ease. Together, they move like something born of the dark forest—protective, grounded, and deeply attuned to one another. Obsidian teaches without apology. He teaches about boundaries, about patience, about the long arc of trust.

     He reminds us that healing is not linear, and that presence—honest, consistent presence—is often the most powerful tool we have. In his quiet way, he continues to show staff and visitors alike that strength does not always arrive loudly, and that sincerity is its own kind of courage.

We are grateful that Obsidian found his way to Mission: Wolf. And even more grateful that, in time, he chose to stay.