really was . . . especially since the Malamute knew everyone acknowledged him as a purebred.

Well, he was indeed a purebred . . . his mother was a champion Malamute sled-dog, but whenever he remembered her, he saw her as a dead-beat – one that didn’t really care for him. Strangely as he found a safe place to be left alone and laid down, something began to trigger the horrible memories and words that had once haunted him – the angered judgments of his own mother. 

“You . . . you’re so useless! You’ll never amount to anything, you demon spawn!”

Not very many canines knew the truth about why the Malamute acted the way he did, but over four years ago, he was just a runty young pup that no dog – not even his spiteful mother - had ever given a damn about. He never knew much about why his father was never around, but he felt that perhaps it was his mother that caused him to be a bastard child. 

“I hate you . . . I HATE YOU! You’ve ruined my life, and I wish . . . I wish you would just die!”

Those hurtful words burned his ears and nearly caused a salty tear to swell up in his eyes as he remembered them, but he knew that to his mother, he was the source of her pain. He never understood why because, of course, there were some things that not even she would ever tell him . . . because some secrets were probably never meant for him to ever know . . . . 

- - - - - - - -

The year was 1920 . . . the month was March, nearing the beginning of the season of new life . . . Spring.  

A teenage boy with short reddish-brown hair peered through the crack of the spare room of his house, his dark gray eyes widening in surprise and wonder at the sight that was inside.

“Mom! Dad!” the teen cried out as he scampered down the stairs and into the kitchen. “Bridget’s in the spare room upstairs! I think she’s had her puppies!” 

Within minutes, the three humans slowly opened the doorway and kept quiet as they looked at the Malamute female inside her small basket covered with a warm blanket. Bridget was a gray and white she-dog with strong legs that now offered protection to her new litter of five pups, each with their own special markings and fur colorings. The tiny bundles of pup lined her ivory belly, sucking on the pink nipples that lined it.

“Oh, there’s . . . one, two, three, four, five . . . five of them!” the boy gasped in awe as he began to step into the room. “I wonder what they look like up close . . .” But before the child could take another step closer, a warm hand-tap on the shoulder stopped him. 

“Son,” the father told him in a hushed manner. “We shouldn’t disturb her and her pups right now. The important thing for the moment is for them to bond with her and grow stronger, especially since they’re newly born. If we just barge in, she may attack us without warning.”

“Why is that, Dad?” The son asked curiously, facing him. “Bridget’s always been such a nice dog!” 

This time, the mother answered. “I know she is, dear, but dogs that have just had their children are very protective of them. Even though this is Bridget’s first litter, she naturally knows what to do for her puppies by instinct.”

The three of them quietly watched as the Malamute licked the squirming pups that were randomly whimpering around her belly. Blindly they sensed the safety of the mother that birthed them into the world, using their natural sense of smell to find their way around. 

The female human continued to speak to her son. “Motherly instinct is just something that every female creature possesses, and when it comes to motherhood, even the youngest of dogs knows what to do when their moment arrives.”

“Wow . . .” the boy gasped. “So even sled-dogs know what to do?” 

“Mm-hmm,” The father nodded. “Now that’s enough looking for now. Let’s leave her be, and I promise we’ll check up on her later, okay?”

The boy nodded and stepped back into the hallway, allowing his father to shut the door. Once the humans had left, Bridget lifted her head up from her pups and gazed at the closed door with a soft whine. 

“Oh, this is hopeless,” she sighed, lowering her eyelids and elegant head in unison. The gray and white she-dog knew that her children wouldn’t be able to hear or see her for another couple of weeks, so she felt free to say whatever she wished. “I wish I could just disappear . . .” She sighed sadly again, ignoring the gestures and cries of her children that clearly called out to her.

But one may wonder at this: why would a new mother be so forlorn after giving life to her litter? The answer is one that she would never tell aloud, keeping the pain inside where no one would judge her otherwise. 

Two months ago, Bridget was outside at night, returning home from being unhitched from her racing team’s sled. Without any regard for the buddy system, she had no idea what dark forces would await her right by her own house. A large Malamute – a black and white one – took advantage of her in the cloak of night and left her deflowered on the snowy ground by her home base only minutes later. She never caught a glimpse of the name written on his collar or anything else about him – most likely he was a loose dog with an owner or a sled-dog from another town that had stopped in the town to rest – but she never saw him again.

The two-toned sled-dog knew that something had started to take place within her after that treacherous night, but she did not understand exactly what it was. She, being a young dog at almost three years old, had never fallen in love with anyone and had planned on saving herself for only her soul-mate, but this was never to be anymore. Now she felt used and empty – for she knew that the male that had stolen her purity had no real love for her. He was just a loner that knew she was in heat and took action, not caring at all for the results of spreading his seed and breed-line to the unlikely victim.  

No longer was Bridget the happy household pet or the strong leader of her sledding team – she was now to be a mother, and nothing she could do would reverse the growing process that was now beginning in her womb. She seemed weak and unhappy, and the next several weeks would take a total toll on her like nothing ever had before.

As the days became weeks and her body began to physically prepare for birth, Bridget was distraught by her owner’s decision to permanently take her off the regular sled-team roster. The other dogs of all breeds that had once called her “friend” and had looked up to her were now nowhere to be seen, for the older parents of the town felt that Bridget was setting a bad example for the younger rookie females and other young naïve pups by becoming pregnant years before total maturity. There was no dog she could talk to within the small Alaskan town, and sometimes her humans – even the little red-haired boy – would ignore her and leave her alone; however, sometimes a she-dog would growl and sneer at her, bullying her for becoming a mother too soon, but Bridget couldn’t bear to show her anger by attacking back. She was already being frowned upon – why would she even bother to degrade herself even further? 

She would cry and sob herself to sleep all during those nights, silently cursing the unborn pups within her for sending her this bad luck. There were even some times that she thought of committing suicide, ending this torture and hurt of being friendless and lonely in the town that had once adored and loved her, but alas, she had no idea that the worst pain was yet to come.

At last, the labor pangs began to hit her within the twilight hours as she tossed and turned alone in her basket. The spare room of the human’s home became the birthplace of five new lives that night – each groaning push that burned the Malamute’s hind end allowed a glistening, bloody sac to bud from her and become a newborn pup. By morning, Bridget was exhausted, tired by the strains of giving birth, but tears were in her eyes; however, they were not tears of joy for delivering five healthy pups overnight – she was freed from the pain of these five children that she never asked for. 

Bridget rested for a couple of hours after the humans had got their first glimpse of her post-partum, although actually achieving total rest was quite difficult to do when five tiny deaf and blind puppies literally beg and whine for your attention at every perfect moment. The cries grew louder as she tried to get some sleep, but to no avail; she desperately wanted to flee this basket that was invisibly holding her captive.

Please . . . someone set me free . . . 

The only thing she wanted more than anything in the world right now was to run . . . run far away from these five needy mouths that depended on only her.

Oh, I hate them . . . I HATE THEM! She cried to herself angrily as she felt like strangling each and every pup that made a noise within her own jaws, but there was some instinct that kept her from doing so. As if the maternal goddess had told her not to go forward with murdering her own newborns, Bridget helplessly remained by their side, at least until the humans returned to check on her an hour later. 

The three humans – both the parents and the red-haired son – creaked the wooden door open slowly, so as not to disturb the new mother, and peered in with awe. The pups were cleaned and dry now – their coats and markings were easily becoming more distinct. Most of them took on the look of their mother and her ancestors – either with different shades of gray or a medium tone of brown, all marked with white – but there was one single pup that made her growl and nearly turn wild with rage. A male pup had been born with the looks of the one that ruined her life – that black and white male that caused

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