I was raised by wolves – it was disappointing if I’m honest.

I don’t know.  When I first realized I was going to be raised by wolves after I got lost in the jungle when I was only a boy of five, I was quite excited.  This is going to be like Jungle Book, I thought.  Maybe I would be singing with bears and fooling around with monkeys.  Maybe I would learn to be really wild and aggressive and beastly, but it turns out that wolves are more or less the same as people. 

They love petty gossip.  They spend a lot of time whining and whinging at each other about whose turn it is to lead the hunt, about who is the best hunter, about who has the best mate.  They are super competitive and petty about everything.

After about 15 years of listening to their bs, I was sick to death of it, frankly, and I was really glad when those explorers  came and shot them all dead and brought me back to civilization, where I had to completely relearn human behavior and human language.  I have news for you, human language is way better than wolf speak.  And humans also behave better.  I can’t even tell you about some of the stuff those wolves did, it was so disgusting. 

Next time I get lost in the jungle I want to be raised by insects.  Ants or termites.  I have watched a few documentaries on TV about insects, and they seem like people who really know how to cooperate with one another to construct something beautiful.

Either that or I would like to be raised by crows.  I would like to live on a telephone wire with a bunch of crows, making a hell of a noise all the time, and then flying around squawking at the top of my lungs.

But no matter what, I would rather not go back to a wolf pack.   If I’m abandoned in the jungle again, please, wolves, do not come to my rescue and bring me back to the cave.  Do not suckle me to keep me alive, and do not regurgitate food for me to eat.

Just leave me there to die, thanks.