May 12, 2015
It has been a long time since I posted a blog. I have had one written since August but I could never post it. But, it is time.
– written August 30, 2014 –
It was time. We were ready for another dog so off to the SPCA we went. We thought we had one picked out but due to a miscommunication she was adopted by another family. The boys were devastated but,”… there will always be puppies in need.” Shortly thereafter we got the call. Three puppies. They were not ready to go yet, but if we’re interested we could have first choice.
And so began the 10 ½ year love affair.
His name was Arctic. An Alaskan Malamute, born December 24, 2003, who spent his first few months living in a kennel. We picked him up on Mother’s Day 2004. The truck was filled with flowers and puppy. He was huge even then! The first thing he did when he got home was run straight into the portable electric fence. The poor puppy!
I’m not sure exactly when or how it happened but I became his person. He loved Dave and boys but it was me that he claimed. Once we moved out here to Cape Breton he hardly ever left my side. He would even go to town, sometimes for the whole day, lying patiently in the back of the car. In fact, when I bought my new SUV it had to have two things: a Bluetooth and enough room for Arctic.
That first summer we took a whirlwind trip out west. We had a pop-up trailer and seventeen days. It was on that trip that we learned a few important things about Arctic: he was an attraction wherever he went; he traveled like a dream; he was a drama queen; and, he liked to poop about five minutes after he ate.
He loved Goldfish crackers. In obedience school his favourite command was “lie down and stay.” He could do that for hours! Anita (the trainer) always joked that that would be a good time for me to run out and grab coffees for the group because “… Arctic’s not going anywhere!” He earned first place on graduation day. I think it was because I had a pocket filled with those crackers.
These days I just don’t know what to do with the cracked eggs. Arctic refused to eat his supper unless there was a raw egg in it. I had to give him the juice out of the tuna can and share the carrots with him. And I would like to thank the roofers who got him on to coffee and donuts.
Everyone who met him fell in love with him and wanted to take him home. If I went to town without him he would wander over to the new neighbour’s house and hang out on their porch. This past year he became part of the Monday afternoon craft group. And yes, I know you guys were sneaking him treats! He knew which egg customers brought him doggie biscuits.
I will never forget how he looked the first time he tasted the salt water and his posture during his first boat ride. He was pretty sad both times. I will remember him singing with roosters and how he played with Jack.
These days I just don’t know what to do. He’s not waiting on the porch, riding in the back of the car, walking with me or keeping me company when I’m home alone. I knew it was time when he refused an egg and didn’t fuss about the cat sharing his bed.
I miss you Arctic. It’s just not the same.