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The first one to find him was an old female, her face decorated with scars. Politely, Amos grabbed the edge of his hat and briefly dipped it forward - a common southern sign of respect. "Yes ma'am," Replied the coyote amiably, "Ah'm 'ere lookin' fo' my son. Could yah kindly tell me if thah's a whippah snappah by the name o' Cassius 'round these parts?"
Another wolf appeared. The old wolf's eyes turned away from the female, and he found himself looking at his son. His son, whom he hadn't seen in so very, very long. Emotions overwhelmed Amos, as he watched Cassius run towards him. A cat might as well of had the old wolf's tongue, as he said nothing, only watched as his bandaged son reached them.
Bandges? They were all over Cassius' arm. It occurred to Amos that perhaps he had come at just the right time. It looked like Cassius could use his father.
Those worries were but blips on Amos' emotional radar. His being was consumed with joy, as his son stumbled into his arms. Finally, he found his choice. Easy laughter spilled out of him, and Amos greeted cheerfully, "Howdy partner, 'ow's my fav'rite son?" Carefully, he wrapped his arms around the younger wolf, making sure not to grab the bandaged arm. It felt good to have his son back in his arms. Family. Family was the meaning of life, was it not?
That's what Amos believed. That's why he was grinning and his tail was wagging, as he hugged his boy.