Rivers

by Mike Dillingham

  We were ready to go. Christmas was the lead dog and Mike let me be the co-lead. He had done that before. Doc and Lakota were the swing dogs. Brownie and Ugly came next with Nitro and Sandy in the rear or wheel position. We were about ready to leave our yard when Mary came out of the house. She said she had a camera and wanted to take pictures of us.

  Then Mike said, “On Christmas, On Rivers. On Doc and Lakota. On Ugly, On Brownie. On Nitro and Sandy.”

  “Oh stop clowning around Mike, and let me get your picture.” Mary said, laughing.

  Off we went, running down the trail that I had run so many times before, but have never seen. We passed the log where Mike and I sat after the big race last year. That is the spot where Mike gave me my new collar that he made for me with all of my racing tags on it. I saw the creek that I had heard so often, with its bubbling waters dancing over the rocks. I looked up and saw the eagles that live near our yard. They were so big and majestic, watching over the trails. I wondered if one of them was the one who landed in our yard after I ran into it. Remember, it tried to snatch little Christmas.

  The snow was so bright white and gentle on my paws. The sun was brilliant against a very clear blue sky. I looked over my shoulder and saw the team working together effortlessly. I looked at Mike. He was smiling and looking like he was really enjoying himself. What a beautiful Christmas day this was.

  The orphanage was a smallish blue building nestled behind some trees. Mike stopped the sled by the front door and a woman came out. She thanked Mike and said the kids would be out soon to see the gifts, the sled, and the dogs. After a few minutes, the kids came out. There were about 10 of them, all different sizes, shapes, and colors. While they were dressed warmly, their clothing was old and in some cases tattered. However, they seemed very happy, laughing and giggling when they came outside and saw us.

  Since the yard was fenced in, Mike let us roam around the yard. The kids came over to Mike and he gave each child their gifts. I sat by Mike's side watching all of this amazing stuff. It made me feel good to see the joy and happiness on their faces as they received gifts. I watched as they ripped off the colored paper. There was a surprised expression on each face as the children opened their boxes filled with a toy, some clothing, and a few of Mary's great goodies. I felt so good to be a part of this.

  I watched another child help a little girl over to “Santa” Mike. It was apparent that this little girl was not well. I watched as Mike helped her up to his knee. She was a very pretty little girl. I noticed that her eyes did not focus. She was blind! I saw Mike give the little girl her presents and help her open them.

  “Honey,” Mike said. “Would you like to play with one of my dogs?”

  “Can I?” the little girl asked excitedly.

  “Sure,” Mike replied. “This is my very special friend Rivers. He, like you, cannot see. You can sit by him and pet him.”

  “Rivers,” Mike said, calling my name. “This little girl needs some TLC, buddy. Can you help me with that?” Not a problem, I thought as I looked at Mike. “Good boy,” Mike said as he rubbed my head. Then Mike told the little girl, “Rivers will stay by your side. Is that okay, Honey?”

  “Oh thank you, Mister Santa Mike,” the little girl said as she sat next to me, gently leaning against my side. As she sat with me, she talked to me as if I was her best friend. She rubbed my ears and I licked her face, making her giggle. After a while, the little girl said she was getting tired and cold. I cuddled up to her while I looked around for Mike. I saw him talking to the lady. I started to howl very softly. I got Mike's attention and he came over. By this time, the little girl had fallen asleep, resting her head on my side. I watched as they took her inside. The lady said that the little girl had been very sick lately and all of the excitement of today probably was just too much for her. I really felt sad for the little girl.

  I was deep in thought about her, hoping she would be okay when Sandy came over to me with a piece of rope in her mouth. She dropped it as she said. “Rivers, I am going to teach you to play the tugging game.” Sandy had told me about this game when I stayed in her yard after my operation. “I have a short piece of rope,” Sandy said. “I will put it by your front paw. Pick it up and start pulling on it. I will be on the other end pulling.” She added excitedly, “The one who pulls the rope away from the other wins. It will be fun, ready?”

  I picked up the rope and started pulling on it. This was fun. I saw Sandy on the other side pulling also. She was pulling and shaking the rope very hard, while making all kinds of play growling sounds. I also pulled and shook the rope, but soon let the rope go as if I had lost my grip. “I won!” She said. “It was a good game. We can play this when we get back home. I will teach Lakota how to play it with you.”

  “Thanks,” I said. I watched her leave to play with one of the kids. It was easy to realize that while she is bossy and sassy, deep down inside, Sandy is a real sweetheart.

  It was fun just watching everybody and everything. Soon it was time for us to return to our home. After Mike hooked us up to the sled in our team positions, each of the kids, except the little blind girl, came over and gave each one of us a big hug. Some kids had tears in their eyes as they told us how this was the best Christmas they ever had. Mike did not have to say it, but I knew we would be back here often to play with them. I realized today, that racing the trails is not as important as sharing what one has with those less fortunate.

  We left the orphanage and headed back down the trail to our home. Wow, who would have thought that this bunch of dogs could make Christmas great for some orphan kids? As we were sledding home, I noticed that the trail looked different now. Yes, it was getting near evening chow and the sunset was reflecting off the snow in different colors! No wonder Mike spent time with me looking at the sunset. He described them to me, but this was just totally awesome!

  Mary had our evening chow ready for us. In the bottom of each bowl was a big bone. I watched my buddies enjoy their chow and their bones. I knew they were proud of what we gave to those kids today. I was proud also, but I was concerned about that little blind girl. Guess I am lucky compared to her. Yes, we both are blind, but I have a home filled with plenty of love. I hope she finds her forever home soon.

  It was getting dark and I looked up in the sky to see all of the bright stars. What did Lakota say? “There is a star in the sky for each one of us dogs.” I wondered which one was mine. I was getting very sleepy but I did not want to go to sleep. I knew that if I went to sleep this dream, if it was one, would be over, or if I can see, I would wake up and be blind again. Nevertheless, in either case, I have buried in my heart and mind all that I saw today, especially all the acts of kindness.

  Mike came out of the house to give us our goodnight TLC. I always get mine last. “Well buddy,” Mike said, “it sure was a beautiful day”. After he gave me my tummy and ear rub, he sat down in the snow with me. “I really wish you could have seen the joy and happiness on those kids’ faces,” he said.

  Mike, you would be surprised if I could tell you I did see all the wonderful things that happened today. I felt sad that Mike would never know his wish came true. He would never know how happy this day had made me.

  As Mike described the stars and the moon to me, I looked up at his face. His beard looked almost white in the moonlight and I swear I saw a gleam in his eyes. I am lucky to have him as my human. Yes, that was another thing to be thankful for. I bet the team is also glad that Mike is their musher.

  After he finished telling me about the stars, Mike gave me a big hug and told me it was bedtime. I watched him get up and leave the kennel, and walk back to the big house. I hoped I would never stop seeing his face in my mind's eye.

  I took one last long look around the kennel, our home, and then went inside my doghouse.

  I laid my head down and went to sleep.

  “Wake up, Rivers,” I heard. “Wake up, Rivers,” the voice said again. When I opened my eyes, I saw Aurora.

  “Aurora! I d
id not think I would see you again.”

  She replied, “Well Rivers, I just wanted to check with you and make sure you are okay. Are you?” She asked.

  “Yes,” I said, “I am fine. I had a beautiful day. Thank you for making it so.”

  “Rivers, you did a super nice thing today staying with that little blind girl when you could have been off enjoying the sights and playing with your buddies.” Aurora added, “I heard you were a special dog. Mike says you are a true champion. He is so right.”

  Aurora continued, “I have a gift for you, Rivers. Because of the unselfish act you did today, the memories of what you saw today will never fade, never. They will always be as real as you saw them today.” She said, “This is a special gift because memories tend to fade as we get older.”

  “Thank you,” I said, “but can I ask for one more favor? Can something be done for that little blind girl?” I asked.

  Aurora answered, “You know Rivers, you really do have a heart of gold. Mike has already asked his friends in high places for the same thing.” She added, “I think his, plus your request, may just do the trick. I will let you know. I must go now.” Aurora said, “But I know our paths will cross again.”

  She turned to me as she was leaving and said, “You know Rivers, whoever said, ‘Blind dogs see with their hearts’ must have had you in mind.”

  “Well, Rivers, Merry Christmas. Now go back to sleep.” As I laid my head down, I knew I would never see again, but I was not sad. I had received many special gifts that I would cherish forever. I fell asleep counting them.

  Lakota's Past

  Yes, this was what you would call a five star Husky day. There were cool temperatures, fresh snow, warm sun, fresh straw, and our tummies were full of great chow. We had just returned from a short training run and Mike snacked us on fish-cicles. It was such a nice day that we all took a nap on the fresh straw in the yard.

  I am not sure how long we napped. I woke up hearing Lakota whimpering and crying. “Do not hit me, I did nothing wrong. Why are you hitting me? Ow, that hurts. Please stop hitting me.” I jumped up because I thought someone was in the yard beating on Lakota. However, I heard no one. Lakota was sleep talking!

  He kept saying these things over and over. I nudged him and I guess startled him when I said, “Lakota, wake up, you are dreaming. You are safe, your friends are here.”

  I could feel him trembling as he stood up next to me. “Are you okay, Lakota?” I asked.

  “Yes,” he whispered. It was just a dream.”

  “Some dream,” I said. “You were talking in your sleep about someone beating on you.”

  “Do you think any of the guys heard me?” Lakota asked.

  “I don't know,” I replied. “Why is that important?”

  “I do not want them, and especially Christmas, to know about the dream. I have that dream very often,” he said.

  “Sounds like this dream bothers you a lot,” I replied.

  “It does and it comes from a time in my life that I really don't want to remember or talk about,” Lakota said.

  “Maybe you do need to talk about it. Who knows, Lakota,” I said, “maybe talking about it would help you to put it to rest, and you can get on with your life.”

  I heard Lakota sit down next to me. “Rivers,” he said, “you are my best friend, but I am very ashamed to tell you what happened to me. I felt I was a disgrace to our Husky heritage.”

  “You are ashamed for being beaten?” I replied, astonished. “Lakota, you have nothing to be ashamed of. The persons who beat you should be ashamed of what they did to you. You don't have to beat a dog to get the dog to be a good dog.” I said, “I guess whoever did that to you was not too smart.”

  Now Lakota is a thinker and if you do not know him or respect him, you may think he is slow. He really is not. He thinks things out and then acts. In addition, when he acts, he does the right thing.

  Soon Lakota started to tell me his story. Lakota is older than I am. He was born in a place where some of the humans are mean and do not train dogs to be good. Instead they hit the dogs to make them do work or obey. Really bad news.

  When Lakota was born, he was a very big puppy. His human did not like him because he ate too much. They gave Lakota very little to eat. Lakota was always hungry. Nevertheless, he grew to be a very big and powerful dog.

  His human had children who also abused Lakota by always pulling his tail, poking him in his eyes, or teasing him before they fed him. If they gave him any treats, they would put the treats out of his reach so Lakota could not get to them. However, the worst thing was that they would slap Lakota in his face. Now that is bad stuff. You can make a dog deaf or blind by doing that. Slapping a dog in his face confuses the dog. The dog does not know if he is going to receive a great ear rub or be hit. This confusion may cause a dog to bite the hand in order to protect himself. That is not good. Dogs want to love and protect their humans and their kids, not bite them.

  Because he was so big, and most of the other dogs were smaller, they never played with him. Some other dogs would make fun of him, call him names, and gang up on him. They said he was chicken, stupid, clumsy or an oaf. So Lakota kept to himself. He had no friends. He was alone and very sad.

  Now the human would hook Lakota up to the sled but did not train him how to run with the team. When Lakota did not quickly figure out what he should do, he got beat. The other dogs would make fun of him because he did not know how to be a team dog.

  Lakota had the smarts to be a great lead dog, but no one would train him. And you know, if you are beat or made fun of when you have a hard time doing something, you are not going to want to do it. It was the same with Lakota. Because the humans made fun of him or hit him, Lakota really hated to run. The humans forced Lakota to run, even when his paws were hurt.

  One day Lakota had enough of this abuse and ran away. He figured that he would rather die on the trail then continue to live that kind of life. Now that is ironic. Lakota believed that he was a disgrace to his Husky tradition, yet he wanted to die on the trail. The very essence of being a Husky is to live and die on the very trails we love to run on, especially with a musher that we are devoted to. The fact is that Lakota almost did die on the trail. However, before that happened, Lakota was found and eventually met Mike and me.

  When Lakota was finished telling me all of this, he was very exhausted and laid down on the fresh straw. I stretched out next to him and put my head on his shoulder, telling him he was very brave to talk about it. He was still trembling.

  “You know, Lakota,” I said, “did you ever think that maybe your shyness is due to the fact that you were so alone for so long? No need to answer,” I said, “just think about it.”

  I told Lakota that Mike says Lakota pulls back when he tries to pet him. “I wonder if you do that without realizing it because you think you are going to get hit again?”

  “Yes, it must be; it makes sense,” Lakota said. “I don't mean to do that. It just happens. I know Mike will not hit me or allow anyone to hurt me. I guess Mike gets a little frustrated when I do.” Lakota added, “That is when he puts me in that body hug you told me about, Rivers, and I have to admit it feels so good when he gives me all of that attention.”

  I replied. “It takes awhile to get comfortable with all of the affection, especially when you never had any before.”

  “Yes,” Lakota said. “I really like it when Mike rolls me over and rubs my tummy. I hear him laugh when he scratches that certain spot that makes my leg move.”

  I told Lakota he did the same to me. We laughed together.

  “Lakota,” I said, let me ask you a question. “Do you like running now?”

  “Yes,” he replied, “I really enjoy it, especially since Mike took special care of me so that my paws healed.” He continued, “Yes, Mike does take very good care of me. The chow is great and the team members are my friends and respect me. It is so different from where I was born.” Then in a softer voice, he added, “I never beli
eved I would be trained or allowed to run lead.”

  We relaxed for a while longer. I sensed that Lakota was deep in thought. “Rivers,” Lakota asked, “Do you think some human kids are abused like I was?”

  “No doubt in my mind,” I answered. I knew this to be true. I told Lakota that Mike reads the e-mail we receive from the kids to me. Some of those kids tell us how bad it is at home for them. I bet some of the kids at the orphanage were abused also.

  “That is terrible!” Lakota said.

  “Yes it is, but it gets worse,” I replied. I told him that I had heard that some humans abuse each other. Some of the strong ones abuse the weak ones. I heard that kids sometimes abuse each other where the big ones pick on the smaller ones.

  “That is really stupid.” Lakota said, “I thought humans were supposed to be smart.”

  I told Lakota that most are, but the dumb ones just do not get it. They believe that the only way to succeed is to hurt others and force them to do what the stupid ones want them to do.

  “Abusers,” I said, “make you think you are the dumb one, like they did to you, Lakota.” I asked, “Didn't they make you feel dumb because you were so big and did not know how to run? Didn't they make you feel that you were at fault, and that you were the problem? Didn't they make you feel like you were a disgrace to the point where you wanted to die?”

  I could sense the anger in Lakota's voice when he said, “Yes, to all of those, Rivers.”

  “So Lakota,” I asked, “who are you angry with?” Remember that Lakota is a thinker and I knew he was thinking about his anger.

  “Me,” he said. “I should have been smarter.”