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Fortunately, my mood, which had got more than a bit dark at the cemetery, immediately lightened as I rode west from St Louis and Route 66 entered some of the most pleasant, verdant country along its entire length. Scenic wooded drives through hills and valleys, far from the superslab of Interstate 44, gave a tantalising impression of what riding the road must have been like in its heyday. But the weather was still remarkably turgid and dreich (a Scottish word for dreary) as I pulled up at my next stop, a wolf sanctuary in Eureka, Missouri.

I’ve always had great respect for wolves. Many years ago, when I was a boy, I read that the wolf’s fierce reputation was the creation of writers who had never even seen one. Sitting in London, Birmingham or Manchester, they wrote about the call of the wild with little or no experience of it. If they’d seen these magnificent creatures, they would have realised immediately that they’re terrified of humans. Absolutely terrified. There’s no chance at all of that cartoon image of them sneaking up behind you and tearing out your throat with their vicious teeth. The wolves I saw at the sanctuary couldn’t get far enough away from us.

Tucked away in a wooded area, the Endangered Wolf Center is home to forty animals from five different species, including the two most endangered species of wolf – the Mexican grey and the red, which used to be native to Missouri. Only around a hundred red wolves exist in the wild and they’re all in North Carolina. As for the Mexican grey, there are only about fifty left anywhere outside captivity.

A lovely young lady called Regina showed me around, explaining that their mission was to breed wolves in captivity and then release them into the wild. ‘We’re unique in that aspect,’ she said. ‘We don’t pat the animals, we don’t talk to ’em, we don’t play with ’em. We want them to keep that fear of humans, so when they go into the wild, they stay away from people.’

They had already released some Mexican grey wolves in the New Mexico–Arizona border area – the only spot where they can still be found in the wild. Some red wolves had been released in the Alligator River National Wildlife Refuge in North Carolina.

‘Sarah Palin likes to shoot wolves from helicopters,’ I said.

‘Yeah. In Alaska and a few other areas, that’s their practice.’

‘It’s ridiculous, isn’t it?’

‘It’s different management styles. These guys, you definitely don’t do that with them’ – she pointed at one of the red wolves – ‘because there are so few left. They’re the most endangered mammal in North America, so they’re very protected.’ We both watched the wolf, which was bright red with big ears and exceptionally long legs that made it walk funny, like it was wearing high heels.

In addition to the wolves, the sanctuary houses some brilliantly coloured African wild dogs – all yellow, white, grey and brown. Fucking great, they are. Superb hunters and killers with massive strength in their jaws, second only to the hyena, they’re also hugely social animals. When they wake up in the morning, they all greet each other like they’ve never seen each other before. Then, in the afternoon, they have a wee kip, wake up, and do it all over again. They really seem to love each other.

The final two species in the sanctuary are maned wolves from South America, which have manes of black hair, like horses, and swift foxes from North America. All of them are kept for education, research and breeding purposes.

‘Swift foxes?’ I said. I’d not heard of them before.

‘They are,’ she said. ‘Their name kind of gives away what they do.’

I laughed.

‘They are the fastest animal we have here. About forty miles per hour.’

‘Really?’

‘They’re pretty fast. So whenever we have to give them their vaccines and catch ’em, it’s a challenge.’

I told her that I’d always liked wolves.

‘Yes. They’re a creature that really touches your heart. One of my favourite things about working here is that I get to work with species that are going to