She is actually, he said, a kind of ‘fraidy-wolf.

Hurricane, the wolf of Encino, languishes in a city kennel. This is surely the equivalent of jail for a wolf, even a civilized wolf. And Sam Jones swears Hurricane is quite civilized indeed, even if he has to pay for one of her meals, which was Amanda Kelson’s bunny.

In fact, Jones doesn’t like to commit himself to the notion that Hurricane, a family pet for two years, would have been at home chasing sleighs across the steppes or howling outside Dracula’s Castle.

As far as he’s concerned, Jones says, Hurricane has a license from the duly constituted authorities defining her as a dog.

Well, he drawls when pressed, “yeah, I guess I’d have to say she’s got some wolf blood in her, sure.” But he bought her as a “mixed breed husky” from a friend in Mammoth Lakes, and he still thinks of her as a big white dog.

The city Department of Animal Regulation, on the other hand, is of the opinion that nowhere in Hurricane’s family tree are there any ancestors named Spot who fetched sticks. According to the department’s workers, Hurricane is 100% wolf, Canis Lupus .

This is the root of the unpleasantness in the prosperous neighborhood along Calneva Drive, which winds its way into the Santa Monica Mountains just east of the Lake Encino Reservoir and is best known to many local residents as the insiders’ shortcut to Mulholland Drive.

Hurricane was trapped there a couple of weeks ago after a series of complaints from homeowners that a big white dog was running loose in the neighborhood, ripping into garbage bags, ignoring orders to scat and otherwise flouting convention.

The last straw was when she apparently--there seem to be no witnesses, but judges have sent men to the gallows on flimsier evidence--scarfed 11-year-old Amanda Kelson’s pet rabbit. Hurricane was seen in the yard shortly before the discovery that the rabbit’s cage had been smashed into. The rabbit was not the type to break out of the cage itself.

A bring’em-back-alive trap was set in the Kelsons’ yard. The animal regulation officer sent to collect it remembers noticing as he approached the trap “those short ears, and then those narrow eyes, and then she stood up and her back almost touched the top of the cage and I could see those long, long legs with the big feet and I thought, oh-oh, this thing’s a wolf!”

Since it is against the law to keep wolves in the city without a permit--which are only issued to professional animal keepers or trainers--a hunt was launched for the owner. Animal regulation sleuths quickly located Jones, who lives a few blocks up the hill from the Kelsons.

Jones is an actor, a 6-foot-3, 200-pounder with a crew cut. He was in the “Code Red” TV series, played “The Highwayman” in a TV series of that name last season, and was Flash Gordon in a 1980 movie of that name.

Hurricane was taken to the animal regulation kennel in Chatsworth. She is not at all fierce, kennel workers say. She seems to be disturbed by the barking of the other inmates in her cellblock. When humans approach, she trembles in a corner.

That fits, Jones said. She is actually, he said, a kind of ‘fraidy-wolf. He has had her since she was a pup (well, OK, a cub). “She was leery of strangers and usually hid from them.” She likes children a lot, though, he said, and enjoyed playing with his son, 5, and his daughter, 2.

What she really enjoys is other canine company. He said she likes to play with other dogs “and she’s very affectionate with them, lying on her back to show submission and giving them little love-licks on the mouth.” He bought a German shepherd puppy just because Hurricane likes the companionship of other canines so much, he said.

He said he did not allow her to run wild, living off game in the brushlands around the reservoir, which was one explanation for the presence of a wolf in a well-to-do suburb. Hurricane lived in a fenced yard, often tied to a tree, and there are witnesses who will back him up on that, Jones insisted. She got out every so often when “the pool guy or somebody” left the gate open.

“She always came home a little later. Hurricane knew where she lived.”

He does agree that some of his neighbors disliked Hurricane. One accused Hurricane of nipping his poodle. Jones said he argued that if Hurricane had really put any moves on the poodle, she would have dispatched it to poodle heaven. Perhaps, in retrospect, this was not the wisest answer.

Jones suspects that maybe one of these neighbors turned Hurricane loose so that she would be caught and taken away.

“I just don’t understand some of the people on this hill,” he said. “They’re so up-tight, they’re against life.”

The only parties with a righteous complaint, he said, are the Kelsons. “If Hurricane ate that little girl’s rabbit--and I suppose she might do that, it’s in her blood--I’ll go down there and tell her we’re sorry and buy her a new rabbit.”

The Kelsons are not appeased.

“We’re still horrified,” said Laurie Kelson, Amanda’s mother. “Everyone around here agrees this animal was a menace. I can’t believe that someone would have a wild animal like that for a pet. Buying another rabbit will not replace a family pet. This was a tragedy for us. Amanda thinks the man who had the wolf should go to jail.”

This is still possible, if unlikely.

The Department of Animal Regulation says that Jones has been so cooperative that it has no plans to bring charges against him. The state Department of Fish and Game, which could also bring charges, is still mulling it over. Conviction carries a possible six months in jail.

Hurricane, meanwhile, mopes about her cell, but better days are coming. City and state animal welfare bureaucracies are looking over a list of at least seven possible new homes, including a haven for wolves in Washington state, funded by contributions from wolf-lovers.

Jones said he hopes that wherever they send her, she will have company. “She’ll just go crazy if she doesn’t have other canines to play with.” His family won’t go down to the kennel to say goodby to Hurricane “because that might get her all upset--she’d want to come home with us.”

Maybe, he said, “we can go visit her after she gets settled. Maybe it worked out for the best. I guess it was time for her life to change.”