I don’t recall wearing a red hood, but it came nonetheless.
Late one night, Fred and I were in the garage with the garage door up. Ahead of me was a deep hilly forest instead of the usual row of townhomes. We waited to catch a glimpse of an animal; a deer or two sprung up and into the bushes, and a couple rabbits scurried away. I looked up the driveway to my right and noticed a four-legged creature approaching. A wolf.
He slowly crept up to me and stopped every so often just enough so I could pet his back and head; then, he made his way back up the driveway. Once he was almost out of sight, Fred’s Dad came down to the garage to get some air. Almost instantly, I heard something steadily walking closer to us from the end of the driveway. I recognized the wolf once again, but I heard a muffled growl this time around. I ran to hit the garage door switch, as the wolf sprinted toward us. The door closed on him, but the persistent bastard continued to torment me by headbutting the door.