Semi-wild dog lived on hill above SLO neighborhood for years — and became a beloved mascot
The massive dog couldn’t help but catch people’s attention when it first showed up, perched on a hillside rock overlooking the houses below.
At first, it might have been mistaken for a coyote, or even at times a mountain lion — from afar it was difficult to discern anything other than a large, furry shape.
But as you got closer, the details came into better view: A whip of a tail, curling up onto the animal’s back; paws the size of a grown man’s hands; and a dark face, with watchful eyes.
This was “Wolfie” — a semi-wild dog who made the South Hills of San Luis Obispo her home until her death last month.
Over the years, Wolfie would capture the hearts of those living in the houses she watched from her perch on the hill, with an entire community springing up dedicated to her care.
Now that community is looking back at Wolfie’s life and the impact she had upon them all.
“It’s just so bizarre and special and cool, but this dog chose this neighborhood and she was here before any of us,” resident Chris Murphy told The Tribune during a recent interview. “She saw this whole thing come from the ground up, and she sat up on her perch up on that hill and watched it all happen.”
“It’s just awesome, you know?”
Residents start meal chain, community for dog living on hill
Nikki Hightower was probably one of the first people to notice her new canine neighbor.
In 2015, she started seeing a wild dog living up on the hill when she would go hiking.
“She looked really abandoned,” Hightower said, noting how she began leaving a bowl near a fence post and filling it with food.
She also left out a small pad of paper for people to write on when they fed her, or to leave notes about sightings.
That was the earliest version of the complex care system that would eventually take shape: a weekly meal train where residents had specific days where they were in charge of Wolfie’s dinner, as well as a phone tree and group text message to coordinate feedings and medical care.
All attempts at trying to lure the large Akita into their homes failed.
They quickly deduced that Wolfie wasn’t living on the hill because she was lost — she was living there because she wanted to. So the best thing they could do was help her live that life.
“I think the instinct is, when you see an animal — and a dog in particular — you want to, you know, find a home for it or you want to ensure it’s cared for,” Murphy said. “Then as you get to know her, you recognize that she is just independent and she’s happy and she has what she needs. Then you’re like, ‘What a special animal.’”
Deborah Light-Pacheco said she was hesitant to join the group at first — “I kind of didn’t want to because I get so attached,” she shrugged — but one morning as she was going on a walk with her dog Lucy, there was Wolfie outside Light-Pacheco’s home, waiting patiently for some food.
“I went, ‘OK, looks like we are attached now,’” Light-Pacheco said with a laugh.
From there, Light-Pacheco took over Wolfie’s morning feedings, though she would sometimes go days or even a week without seeing her. At one point, Wolfie even started bringing a fox friend from the hill down with her for breakfast about once a week, Light-Pacheco said.
All the while, Wolfie would require people to keep an appropriate distance: She didn’t need pets or to come inside the house. She was happy where she was, the group members said.
“She was very, you know, reticent — friendly too, she was very friendly,” Light-Pacheco said. “But she was like, ‘I don’t need to cuddle, I don’t need pets and things like that.’ She was an independent woman.”
Elaine Wilcox, one of the earliest people to start caring for Wolfie, said the dog had “resilience.”
“She was always showing up, no matter what had happened,” Wilcox said. “And she was happy.”
Meanwhile, Wolfie was becoming something of a local celebrity around the South Hills area.
Hikers would spot her perched on her favorite rock as they trekked up the hill, and construction workers building the slew of new homes in the area would toss her their lunch leftovers before getting back to work.
“She was kind of a spirit animal,” Hightower said. “I mean there was something kind of spiritual about her.”
Neighbors notice something wrong with Wolfie, call in help
Hightower may have been one of the first to notice Wolfie had taken up residence in the South Hills, but Light-Pacheco was the first to notice something was wrong on Aug. 28.
“I was on the phone and I saw her outside which was at an unusual time,” Light-Pacheco said. “She was scooting, like she could walk but she was scooting, and I thought, ‘That’s not good.’”
Light-Pacheco notified the group that something was going on, and they began to mobilize to figure out her care.
Murphy showed up to the field where Wolfie was lying, along with Sarah Hewawitharana, another member of the group who had experience with dog rescues.
“I thought at the beginning ... she got something in her foot or whatever,” Hewawitharana said. “So I was like, if she will let me get close enough, I might be able to help her.”
So Hewawitharana hopped the fence between the neighborhood and the field, carrying towels and first-aid supplies. When she made it over to Wolfie, however, it quickly became clear it wasn’t going to be an easy fix.
Wolfie’s back legs weren’t working anymore.
After several hours of trying to coordinate some sort of medical help for her, a local veterinary tech arrived and discovered no reflex response in Wolfie’s back legs.
“She at that point said, you know, that ‘You’re gonna have to make a tough decision,’” Murphy said. “Sarah and I talked, and decided we needed to move forward with that.”
So they made the difficult call to euthanize Wolfie that day. They believe she was about 11 years old.
“They said she wouldn’t survive the night out there,”Hewawitharana said. “We didn’t want her being attacked or going like that.”
Immediately after, news of her death began spreading through the neighborhood, and an impromptu memorial was set up next to her feeding area with flowers left for their beloved canine mascot.
Wild dog first rescued in Southern California, moved to SLO
How Wolfie came to live on a hill in San Luis Obispo is a wild story that was only revealed to residents after her death.
Murphy said after she died, he had the vet check Wolfie for a microchip, to see if he could track down a previous owner.
She had one, and the day after her death, Murphy made a call to the number associated with the chip.
Kelli Nicholas picked up the phone, and was soon in tears.
“When I talked to Kelly, she started sobbing,” Murphy said. “She said, ‘I have waited, hoping for this phone call for nine years.’ She said, ‘I pay every year. I pay for her chip to be renewed — just hoping she’s out there.’”
Nicholas told Murphy she had rescued Wolfie in 2012 in Van Nuys. Wolfie was nursing a litter of three puppies under a neighboring house.
The puppies were all adopted, and Wolfie was placed in a home in Beverly Hills. She soon escaped from that home and “ran the streets of Beverly Hills for two months,” according to Murphy, evading a team of searchers and even a nationally renowned dog catcher.
Finally, they caught her and sought to place her in a home outside of the city that might be more conducive to her independent nature. She was adopted by a man living on Pasatiempo Drive in San Luis Obispo, near Bishop Peak.
Within two weeks, however, she had escaped again.
Though she stuck around for a bit to get food, Murphy said she soon fully disappeared, and the owner lost track of her.
Murphy and the group of residents who cared for Wolfie believe she made her way over to their neighborhood sometime around 2013, living on her own and setting up her domain.
“Kelli said, ‘It was the biggest sorrow of my life not knowing where she was, and not knowing she was taken care of,’” Murphy said. “’(But) to know that she chose your community and you guys built a community to support her means the world to me.’“
Neighbors to hold memorial for beloved dog
Many things about Wofie drew the community to her, group members said.
“She just had a presence,” Murphy said. “She’s this massive, intimidating-looking dog, but she was very peaceful, gentle. Regal and independent — she was all of those things together.”
To remember Wolfie, they plan to hold a memorial service at the end of Aster Avenue on Sunday at 3 p.m. Members of the group as well as Nicholas are planning to speak. Everyone in the community is invited to attend.
“The energy’s completely different,” Light-Pacheco said. “It is gone.”
“That was the thing — it always felt special,” resident Eric Steinbroner said.
“Yeah, it felt like we were special,” Wilcox said. “Like nothing bad could ever happen here.”
This story was originally published September 12, 2021 at 5:00 AM.
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