We were all silent until Lakota said, “Who would have thought that Smokey Joe would live up to his Husky heritage, to live and die on the trails we love to run and race on?” Lakota continued. “Who would have thought that Smokey would protect Mike?”
After we got home, Mike got us out of our harnesses and gave us fresh water. The other guys were ready for their run, but we told them what had happened. We were all in the yard talking, while listening to Mike in his workshop. He was building something. We walked over to the workshop. The door was open. Ugly was standing next to me and told me what he saw. Smokey Joe was still wrapped in the blanket and resting on one part of the worktable. Mike was building a box that was the same size as Smokey Joe. Doc told us that the box is called a coffin. After we die, our spirits cross the Rainbow Bridge, but our bodies stay here. We will not need them at the Bridge since we will be happy, young, and healthy dogs.
Ugly told us that Mike had his back to us and when he turned around, you could tell he was very sad. I guess Mike saw us standing there because he said, “So you guys are feeling sad also? Well, Smokey may have been a bad dog, but in the end, he was a good dog and a hero.” Mike added, “We will remember him for the good and not the bad. That is how we should remember anyone who dies”
Ugly told me that Mike put one of our team harnesses on Smokey Joe. Then Mike took off Smokey's old collar and put one of our team collars on him. Ugly said that Mike took a brush and brushed Smokey out and made him look like the champion he had been.
“You are on my team now Smokey,” Mike said, as he gently placed Smokey into the box and put the top on it. Brownie said that Mike's face was a little wet and his eyes were red. Yes I thought, Mike was very sad. As we looked at the box, Nitro said that Mike painted Smokey Joe's name on it and underneath his name the word “HERO.”
Mike lifted the box up and I heard him carry it out of the workshop. Lakota was next to me and we walked with the rest of the team to a hill that is located a little ways down the trail. It is not a big hill, but it looks down on the trail.
When we got to the hill, Lakota told me that Mike put the box down and cleared the snow from the ground. Mike began to dig a hole in the ground. The dirt was not frozen as it was on the trail since the sun warms the ground here. I heard where Mike was digging and I started to dig the dirt by his feet. Next thing I knew, we all were digging in the dirt helping Mike dig this grave for Smokey.
When we were done, Mike placed Smokey's coffin into the grave, and covered it with dirt. Mike said that when Spring comes, he would plant some flowers here and put a marker on Smokey's grave. We sat for a few moments and I got a strange, but nice feeling, that Smokey was across the Bridge looking back smiling at us, and happy with what we did for him. I bet he was truly happy for the first time in his life.
The Night After the Day Before
When we returned from where we buried Smokey, we all went to our doghouses to get some rest. After a while, we all came back out to the yard and started to talk about what had happened. This had been a confusing day. What had started out as a fun day turned into a sad day, which made us think about how lucky we were.
“Uncle Rivers.” It was Christmas. “I am confused,” she said. I asked her what was confusing her.
She was remembering Smokey Joe as a very mean dog who snapped at her when he visited us before the big race. She reminded us that Smokey had picked on Aunt Sandy and Grandpa Rex. She even remembered how Mike wrestled Smokey to the ground in order to protect us from him. He was a big powerful dog. However, when we saw him today, he looked so old and weak. He even protected Mike. Christmas asked whether she should feel sad or angry.
There was silence until Lakota answered her. He said that we should feel sad because Smokey died, but we should feel very happy that he is in a better place now, and that he turned out to be a good dog. Lakota added that it is all right to feel angry, but we should replace that anger with appreciation and happiness that we are in a good home, with a good musher who takes great care of us.
I was amazed at Lakota for what he said. He really knew the score. However, Nitro finally put this issue to rest when he said, “Christmas, our job as dogs is to be good and to protect our musher. Some of us do and some of do not. Smokey chose not to be good, but in the end, he did the right thing. He proved that good would always win over evil.”
This was coming from Nitro. Amazing! Nitro stood nose to nose with Smokey Joe when Smokey picked on Grandpa Rex and me. Sometimes words of wisdom come from the least expected mouths.
“Christmas,” Sunny said, “you have some very smart Uncles.”
“Yes,” Christmas said. “And they are very brave and I am proud of all of them.”
“And we are proud of you too Christmas.” It was Ugly. “But it is time for you to go to bed and get your rest.” He added, “We have to make up for lost training time tomorrow.”
“Okay, Uncle Ugly, but who is going to tell me my good night story?” Christmas asked. Each night Brownie, Ugly, or Doc tells Christmas a story. So we were surprised when Nitro said, “I will. Let's go.”
“You never told me a story before, Uncle Nitro,” Christmas said.
“Well,” Nitro said, “There is a first time for everything.” He started the story. “Let me tell you about the time a moose and ……” His voice trailed off as they went to Christmas’ doghouse.
You could tell Brownie was surprised when he said, “Do you guys think it is a good idea for Nitro to tell stories to Christmas?” He added, “I heard some of his stories and they made me blush.”
Ugly chimed in with, “Well Brownie, are you going to tell Nitro that he cannot tell Christmas stories?”
“You must be crazy to think I would dare to do that.” Brownie chuckled. “I'd be his next story!”
As we laughed, Lakota said, “You know, I bet there is a soft tender side to Nitro that we have never seen, yet Christmas brings it out. I bet he is very careful with the stories he tells her.”
Doc said, “He is very protective of her, just as if she was his own pup. But then we all are. Makes you think a bit about how we all were put in the same place at the same time to save her.”
“Jeez, Doc,” Ugly said, “you make my head hurt with all of this thinking stuff. I'm going to bed.”
I heard them all wander off to their doghouses. However, I did not hear Sunny's footsteps. I turned to her and said, “Well you sure had an adventurous day.”
“Rivers,” she asked, “how did you know I did not go to my doghouse.” I told her that I did not hear her footsteps walk away and I heard her breathing. She was standing right next to me. I turned to face her.
She told me she was still shook up over what had happened. I changed the subject and asked her how she liked running with the team. She really perked up. She was very excited and she told me she liked it and hoped we could do more of it. It told her we would, but we needed to turn in. I told her that I bet Mike would start us early tomorrow. I told Sunny that I knew she had done very well. Lakota and Doc were watching her and said that she ran like a natural. “I bet you will be running lead very soon,” I said
“And did you watch me also?” she asked with a smile in her voice.
“Well that is for me to know and you to find out.” I laughed.
“Oh Rivers, you are so frustrating,” Sunny cried.
“Did we have this conversation before?” I continued laughing and said, “Early to bed and early to rise makes us Huskies healthy, hardy and wise.” I continued. “It is past my bedtime, Sunny.” I walked her to her doghouse, said goodnight, and started to walk back to mine.
“Good night Rivers, pleasant dreams,” she said. Yes, it thought to myself, I always seem to have great dreams.
Mud
The next day Mike started to train Sunny in earnest. At first, we did two short runs per day. Sunny would run in all positions: wheel, team, and swing. She ran on the left side or the right. No matter what position she ran she did great.
/> Sunny ran with each one of us as a running mate. It made no difference which of us Sunny teamed with, she ran as if she had been running with that teammate forever. Lakota and the guys were talking about how Sunny brought out their best when they were on the trails. Sunny, like Christmas, became a regular member of our team. We were all dreading the day she would go back home.
Moreover, we all knew that Christmas would have the worst time when Sunny had to leave. They had become real buddies. Sunny was a positive role model for Christmas and it seemed that Christmas’ boundless energy and eagerness to learn motivated Sunny. Many times when an uncle was teasing Christmas, Sunny would be right there also. As I said, Sunny and Christmas were good for each other.
Both lady dogs were fast learners and when teamed together, they functioned as one dog. Christmas had been running in the lead position at one time or another with all of her uncles. Sunny also had run lead with most of us. However, the day that Mike teamed Christmas and Sunny as co-leaders was the day that Sunny really lived up to her Husky heritage.
This was to be our longest trail run with Sunny. Mike had packed extra gear in case this became an overnight trip, so the sled was heavier than usual. Nevertheless, with eight dogs pulling there would not be a problem. This probably would be our last run of the season since the temperatures were getting warmer and the snow was disappearing on the trails.
Mike harnessed us up and put us in our positions. Christmas and Sunny were the lead dogs, with Doc and Ugly in the swing position. Next came Lakota teamed with me as the team dogs, and Nitro teamed with Brownie to run in the wheel position.
We were waiting for Mike to give us the commands when we heard Christmas say, “Okay team, the trail is probably really messy, so we are not going to go too fast. We will use the first few miles to get our stride and if we get some good trail, we will speed up the pace a bit. If not,” Christmas continued, “we will just lope along and have a nice fun run.”
“Christmas,” It was Ugly. “You sound just like Doc when he gives us his trail overview.”
“No she doesn't.” It was Doc. “I don't have a puppy dog's voice like Christmas.”
We started to chuckle until Christmas said very sternly, “Uncle Doc, I am not a puppy dog any more. I am a lady dog like Sunny and Aunt Sandy, and I am your lead dog on this run.”
I turned to Lakota and said, “Our little pup is growing up.”
Lakota told me. “Yep, and we all better start realizing that she is not the little puppy we saved on that Christmas Eve awhile back.” Deep down inside, we were all proud of her, even Doc. Yes Doc, you taught her well.
I heard Mike get on the runners, pull the rear snow hook, and say, “Okay team. Get ready. Go!”
We leaned into our harnesses and got the sled moving. Sunny and Christmas pulled the lines tight and I heard our footsteps in the snow. Soon we were gliding down the trail. Well at first, we were, but soon our smooth trail turned into a rutted nightmare with ice and little, or no snow.
As we moved on, the trail just got worse. Mike stopped the team and decided to put booties on us for extra protection.
Lakota told me that Mike was limping. “Must be his bad knee acting up again,” I said.
Lakota replied, “And you know this nasty trail is not helping that knee either.”
We started pulling again, and started down a hill but then stopped when Mike said, “Stop! Mud! That's it, we are turning back.” You could hear the frustration and disappointment in Mike's voice
Going home was okay with us. Besides the mud, the temperature was getting warmer. Lakota told me that the trail was very narrow here and it would be very tricky turning the team and sled around.
“Okay gang.” It was Mike. ”This is what we are going to do.” Mike told us that he was going to unpack the sled, then unhitch the team. Next, he would lift the sled on end and turn it around. Once the sled was turned, Mike would pull it to a spot on the trail a few yards back that was wider than where we were. After the sled was repositioned, he would move the team, hitch us up, and then repack the sled. Then we would be on our way back home.
Good plan, until it started to rain. Of course, it would not be one of those nice misty spring rains. Nope, let us talk deluge! As it rained on us, Ugly's jovial voice rang out with, “Hey, where is Sandy? She is a Labrador retriever, a water dog, and they like this kind of wet weather!” Leave it to Ugly to get us to laugh.
“Hey Sunny.” It was Brownie. “How are you doing? You still want to be a sled dog?”
Now you would figure that this lady dog, who does not have a lot of trail time, would be a little frazzled by all of this. Not Sunny. Her voice was clear and calm. You could actually hear the excitement in it. “I'm having great time. Nothing like a little spring rain storm to bring out the best in us lady dogs, right Christmas?”
“You betcha, Sunny,” Christmas joined in. “Gee Uncle Brownie, your fur sure looks funny in this rain storm! You having a bad fur day?”
We all laughed at that one. “Where did Christmas learn to tell jokes like Ugly does?” I said to Lakota and he said to me, “Where did she learn to talk like Mike? ‘You betcha’ is one of his phrases.”
“It seems like our youngster is growing up very fast,” I told Lakota.
“Have you noticed that neither of them has whined or complained about anything during this entire trip?” Lakota said, “Real champion lead dog material.”
“I cannot wait till we get some snow and they run lead with us again,” I said.
Nitro must have overhead our conversation. He said, “You know with those two as part of our team, we could be some serious competition in eight dog races.”
“Hey Nitro.” It was Doc. “Can we get out of the mud first, before we think of crossing finish lines?”
“Okay Doc,” Nitro replied, “just a thought, maybe something to keep us motivated during the summer time.”
Lakota told me that Mike had the sled repositioned and repacked. Mike moved to the front of the team and grabbed the neckline between Christmas and Sunny. Mike told Sunny and Christmas to go “Haw.” He then told us to go “Gee Straight.” What this did was to move the front two dogs to the left and move the rest of the team to the right to make room for the turn. It worked fine.
It was still raining as he hitched us up. Mike got on the runners and said, “Okay team. Get ready. Go!” We barely got the sled moving. It kept sinking in the mud.
“This is not going to work,” Mike said. I heard him limp to the front of the sled. Lakota told me he knelt in the mud, and held Christmas and Sunny's faces near his and told them that they must lead the team home. Mike told us that he must help us push the sled and he could not steer it.
What a challenge for these lady dogs! Lead the team home in this kind of weather and on this bad trail. An experienced lead dog would have difficulty doing this. Yet, Mike was asking his two most inexperienced leaders to do it.
I heard Mike limp to the back of the sled, but he did not get on the runners. Instead, he stood between the runners, locked up the drag, started to push, and said, “Go!” We all started to pull at the same time and the sled moved. Not fast, but steady.
We were making progress, but we were going uphill. The rain had stopped and it was getting colder. Maybe we would get some frozen tundra to run on. Not the greatest, very bad on the paws, but the sled would slide better.
We crested the hill and the trail started to level out. I could feel the ground get crunchy under my paws. This stuff could really tear up a dog's paw pads. Pulling our sled in the mud, even with Mike's help, was tough work. Actually, it was harder than pulling a fully loaded sled and musher on a snow packed trail. The guys were all commenting how tired they were getting.
Lakota asked Sunny how she was doing. “Fine,” she said, but you could hear the tiredness in her voice. This had to be very tough on her. She was not used to pulling sleds as we were. Remember that she was still recuperating and might not have all of her strength back. Neve
rtheless, she held her own and did a great job leading us. Christmas was doing fine also. Yep, her uncles were sure proud of her.
“Team, stop,” was the command that Mike gave. We stopped and wondered what he wanted us to do. Lakota told me that Mike set the snow hook and started to walk to the front of the team. Lakota said he was still limping, worse than before. I knew we were all concerned about him. Just as I knew we would get him home, I knew he would also do his part to get us there. Yes, we were a team.
The trail was beginning to freeze. It was not as wet as the muddy part we just left down the hill. As Mike took off our dirty wet booties he said, “Okay Team, lets take a break and get those paws of yours aired out a bit.” Next, he set out some water bowls for us and gave us nice treats to go with our drinks.
I heard Mike sit on the sled basket and I heard a zipper unzip. Lakota told me that Mike was rolling up the pants leg to get a look at his knee. Lakota told me that it looked somewhat swollen but there was no blood. Well that was a good sign, I thought.
I heard Christmas turn around and asked what Mike was doing. However, before I could answer, I heard Mike say to her, “Hey my Christmas Girl, you look so sad. Are you Okay? Oh, you are worried about my knee. It is all right, my Christmas Girl. You are doing a great job getting us home.”
Lakota told me that Mike rolled his pants leg back down and zipped up his overalls. He got up and limped to the front of the team. “You are all doing great. I could not be any more proud of you than I am right now. That was some nasty trail back there and you got us through it.” He then limped to Sunny, put his nose to hers and rubbed the side of her face, “You too, sweetheart. You are a true champion. I know you are not 100 percent yet, but you did not give up. Doctor Jim will be very proud of you when I tell him.” Mike continued, “You can run with my team anytime you want.” We all knew that made Sunny feel ten feet tall.
Alaska Dogs and Iditarod Mushers Page 59