A Second Chance: Dusty

Dusty crept up to the starting line. He felt like a mouse trapped out in the open, with nowhere to go. His heart beat hard like the raven’s wing, and pumped fast like the river’s current. He looked up and saw in the crowd the 12-year-old face of his young owner, Julie. She was grinning wildly and hopping from foot to foot with impatience for the race to start.

For once, Dusty was certain of something. He didn’t want to do this. He knew Julie wanted him to be on the mail team, and they both knew he was fast…but was he fast enough?

“Marks!” shouted the man with the starting gun. Dusty jumped, and his paws shook as he worried the cold snow with his pads. There would be twelve dogs running this race. There would be seven winners, five losers. With his luck, he was fairly sure he would come in eighth or last.

“Set!” the man yelled, the glinting gun raised to the cerulean sky. Dusty suddenly caught sight of a familiar canine face in the crowd. His thumping heart beat at the inside of his chest so hard he thought it would burst out in a bloody mess. Chase. What was Chase doing here? She couldn’t run, not with her busted leg.

“Go!”

The gunshot rocketed through the air, and Dusty leapt forward out of pure reflex and instinct. Without the shot, he knew he would’ve never made it past the line.

Before he could recollect his senses he found himself pounding through the streets with dogs as fast and strong, probably even more so, than he. He could barely see the crowds on either side flashing by in a colorful blur, but before he could stop admiring the scenery, a dog pushed him from behind.

“Keep your eyes on the road or get out of the race!” the dog cried as Dusty stumbled. He accidentally crashed into a black and white female husky and knocked her to the ground. She yipped and whined as dozens of running paws rolled her back towards the start. Dusty cringed and started to go back to help her, but he was wheeled on by the oncoming wave of dogs.

The race was at its peak. Dusty knew he was stuck running it now, so he might as well run good. He ducked his slight body low to the ground and pretended his muzzle was an arrow that would guide him straight through the finish. He used his large paws to tug his weight forward, and soon he was passing the malamute ahead of him. The sled dog looked in surprise at how such a small dog as Dusty could be overtaking others, but Dusty saw the look only for a moment as he left behind an Akita on his left, a mutt on his right.

He could see the FINISH banner up ahead, its letters blood red and bright against the clean white of the cloth. He was going to make it. He would bound across that finish line, and all of this would be over. He doubted he would make the team, and he was kind of glad.

Suddenly the same male dog that had yelled at him before butted him in the back end, and that sent Dusty rolling head over tail towards the fluttering banner. Dusty smelled the ripe earth and heard the dogs yelp and curse at him as he pinwheeled beneath their paws. He was moving so fast he imagined the dusty red fur scattered in the white on his back and legs and head floating right off. Instead of the relieving leap through the finish he had pictured, he bounced and bumped his way across the line, slowing to a stop.

Dusty opened his chestnut eyes and sputtered quietly as he swung himself to his feet. All was eerily quiet.

He turned just in time to see Chase hurtling through the finish with a mangy brown mutt right on her tail. His mind was washed clean of concern for the race as he marveled that his three-legged sister could run, and even get across a finish line. It was nothing short of a miracle.

Applause started up, and as it grew and swelled and then settled down once more as the proud cripple hobbled off the street, Dusty’s pleased grin flipped down into a thoughtful frown. Which seven had won? Who were the new mail dogs? He had to know.

After some quiet conferring with a few people in the crowd, the man formerly with the gun stepped forward and boomed, “There was some uncertainty, but the winners are clear now. The members of our new mail team are- Kodi, Dusty, Lucas, Kirby, Ralph, Kira, and…yet another Dusty!” There was amusement in his voice as he named the two Dustys.

Explosions in Dusty’s mind blocked out the loud cheers and whistles from the crowd. Everything seemed to have been muted as he stood there with wide eyes and his mouth hanging open. He had made it. He had come in 7th place. He couldn’t believe it…and he didn’t want to. This was not good.

“Dusty!” Julie’s voice shot into his ear. She hugged him and buried her pale face in his thick fur. “You made it! You’re a mail dog now! Woohoo!” Dusty gently licked her face. He loved Julie, and her happiness was catching.

She laughed, then raised a gloved hand. “High-five?” He slapped her hand with his paw. It was a trick Julie had taught him when he was a pup, when she had seen him cocking his head at her as she did a high-five with a friend. She had started teaching him how to do a high-five right then and there, and it had become something they did that was unique and sealed their friendship.

“Yeah!” she exclaimed, and stroked between his ears down to his ruff, and stood up. Dusty followed her to her parents, and as he did so he heard that there would be a special gathering that night at the old mill to congratulate the new mail dogs. He shivered. He would have to go.

Hopefully this social occasion would go better than the ones before.

Dusty stood quietly, like an island of silence surrounded by a sea of dogs. So far luck had been with him; he hadn’t had to talk to anyone, so he hadn’t made a fool of himself. Everything was going good so far.

A cold nose nudged him from behind. “Hey, fellow mail dog.”

Dusty turned to face the female black and white husky he had knocked over during the race. Instantly his brain froze up in horror. “Oh, uh, well…um…hi,” he said weakly.

She laughed, her eyes sparkling and her red mouth open wide. She had beautiful eyes. They were deep blue-green, like the sea, and now they glittered. “No hard feelings about the whole knocking-me-over thing,” she told him, “It wasn’t your fault. I saw Lucas behind you, and I know push always comes to shove when he wants something out of his way. I hope the mail team veterans-like your brother Kodi-know what they’re in for.”

Dusty nodded nervously. He didn’t know what to say. He was completely tongue-tied, frozen. Where could this conversation lead?

Suddenly her eyes widened, and she smiled kindly. “Oh, my name’s Kira.”

“I’m Dusty,” he said in relief. It was a good thing Kira didn’t seem to notice his anxiety and spluttering. He wasn’t the most social dog, and talking to others always made him nervous. “But I guess you already knew that, since you mentioned Kodi.”

“Yes,” she said, “I’ve seen you around town. And you’re kind of hard to miss with that wild coat of yours!”

He grinned sheepishly, but with a trace of sadness. His fur coloring was kind of conspicuous, with its unusual dusting of red over snowy white. It was his enemy when he wanted to hide or become invisible. He was still trying to decide whether he liked it or not. “Thanks,” he said softly.

“Hey, Kira, I’m glad you made the team,” Lucas said loudly, butting in, “And I’m also glad we’ll be seeing more of each other.” Kira frowned and turned her back on the gray mongrel. Lucas stared at her for a few seconds. “Not talking tonight, are we? Well-” He remembered Dusty before he could finish his sentence. “What are you doing, messing with my girl?” he hissed.

“I’m not your girl,” Kira snapped before Dusty could do anything. Her bright eyes flashed. “I’m not anyone’s girl! Just because we’ll be on a team together doesn’t mean you can harass me all you want! Get in line and stay in line, or I’ll-” She gnashed her teeth and snarled savagely.

Dusty was ready to take a step back or two to give Kira’s sudden transformation some room, but Lucas gazed at her coolly.

“I like ‘em fiery,” he whispered with a menacing grin.

Kira’s ocean-wave eyes flamed into livid green balls of rage. She stepped forward as she growled deeply, and Lucas bent towards her as if to bite her neck. Dusty stood there helplessly, his limbs frozen with fear and vain hope.

“That’s enough!” Doc, a St. Bernard and the oldest dog in Nome, slipped his fat body between Kira and Lucas. “That’s enough.”

Silence cupped over the old mill like a mould that wouldn’t fit. Dusty wished he had tried to stop the fight like Doc, but he knew he hadn’t wanted to believe that a fight was developing before his very eyes. He also didn’t know if Kira would have turned on him if he had tried to protect her. After all, she didn’t want to seem like his “girl.” Still…‘Coward,’ he silently jeered at himself.

“Now we are here tonight to honor the dogs that have been deemed worthy enough to be part of the mail team,” Doc thundered, “A team that we depend on to communicate and keep this town from disappearing off the map. And here you are, supposedly mail dogs, bickering like a couple of pups! Shame!”

Kira glared at Lucas over Doc’s back. “Lucas knows no shame. He doesn’t belong on