CHAPTER 7: The First Run

They first put us in a line to see who would go where on the team. Here’s what they decided. Of course they put Spitz as lead dog. Curly was behind him. Her position was called the swing dog. I was behind Curly. My place was called the team dog. And Dave was last, the wheel dog. After that, they put the harnesses on. Spitz and Dave had no trouble staying still, but Curly and I were shaking! We were just nervous, but I wanted this so much. Why should I be nervous about something I really want to do? As I stood there wondering, Francisco and his partner Parralt (I FINALLY remembered his name!), put the harness on me. Soon we were all attached and ready to go! Spitz stood there looking high and mighty, waiting for the first command. Curly was too excited to stay still. I was nervous, very nervous. And Dave looked bored, as if he was saying, “Here we go again…” I guess he didn’t like to dogsled much.

Then Francisco stepped on the back of the sled and with his whip held high (he almost NEVER uses it), he called out, “MUSH!” and suddenly Spitz jerked forward like a torpedo, and then the rest followed. Everything was like a flash of lighting! One second we were waiting, and at this one we’re just…going! Just like that! Dave yelled behind me, “Be ready next time for the first call.” I looked behind me and nodded quickly as I tried to catch up. I thought this would be easier than I imagined. When it was just me, I didn’t have a problem, but now, for the first time, I was on a team. It wasn’t just about me anymore, like Judge Miller always said, “You always come before anything else.” Now, that doesn’t apply to what’s happening now.

As I was struggling to be as fast as the others, I tripped over a strap that was hooked on to the sled. And the rest of the team came down with me. Francisco called the team to a halt. He didn’t yell, as Dave said he normally would. He knew I was a first timer, so he went easy. He just untangled the straps on the team and got back on the sled to call the team to rise again. Spitz looked at me with angry eyes. He growled softly as he was turning back around again. Now I knew Spitz didn’t like me, but that was okay because I didn’t like him either.

The musher yelled mush, and the team was on its way again. I looked at Curly and she seemed to do a pretty fine job at it. Her pace kept with the others, her speed also. It looked like she had done this a million times! Why?!

I gently pulled her tail with my mouth. She turned around quickly and said, “What?” She turned back around because you were supposed to look forward. I didn’t mind. I still knew she was listening.

“Curly, how do you do that?! You make it look so easy for dogs who never dogsled before!”

“I was a street dog, remember?! It was hard times and you had to run a lot from dog catchers!” We both yelled because the wind was so loud. “It’s probably not easy for you because you were a house dog with a good life!”

She was right. Even though she was once Queen of the Streets, it was still torture to be a street dog. So she’s been in situations where she had to run, maybe for miles! Me: The only time I run is to play fetch or to look to sniff a tree! That’s why I couldn’t be as good as Curly. But I knew that the time will come if I just kept practicing.

I was beginning to get tired, but Dave said that was typical for beginners. Luckily, Francisco called us to stop. I was glad he did. Working with a team was harder than I imagined, but I knew it was only my first run, so I would get better at it eventually. Spitz looked at me again, and rolled his eyes. He thought I’d never be good enough. Well I’ll prove him wrong someday…

Our musher took off our harnesses, and started camp. I watched as Francisco and Parralt took many things from the sled and made a small structure by hand. And then I watched them build a campfire. Curly nudged me.

“Hey, what’cha doin’?”

“Huh?” I snapped my head to hers in surprise. “Oh, sorry. I’m just so amazed about what the humans could do. They could make structures and build fires all on their own.”

“Because they have opposable thumbs.” Curly laughed. I laughed along.

“So, are you tired?” I asked.

Curly shrugged. “A little I guess. How about you?”

“I’m not DYING, but I’m kinda tired, too.”

“Well, that was a pretty good run, huh guys?” Dave called.

“Hey Dave.” We both said.

“For first-timers, you’re not really that bad.”

“Thanks.” We both said again.

“C’mon.” He gestured. “I want to talk with you about something.” Curly and I looked at each other in confusion, but followed him. When we were a bit far from camp. Dave looked at us with a worried look on his face.

“Curly, Buck, you have no idea what world you’re in.”

Curly and I looked at each other again, then looked back.

“What you do mean?” Curly asked.

“You don’t have the slightest clue what huge mess you’re in the middle of. Wherever you’re from, it’s 10 times better than this. Alaska is not a place full of smiles. It’s cold, heartless, and it doesn’t give a hoot about all the killings going on recently. If I were you, since new dogs like you are the main targets, I would be careful. A lot of the huskies here are nothing but killers and mad dogs! So watch out during the night, and keep alert. Almost every dog on Spitz’s old team was killed after a husky attack. I’m not trying to scare you, because this is real, NOT a scary story. I’m just asking you to be on your guard at all times. It’ll give me some peace knowing that some of our teammates are ready for anything.”

“Wow…” I whispered. “Where I lived, everyone was always kind. Why are the dogs here so ruthless?”

“I don’t know. It could be rabies, lack of food, or just a really mean musher or owner. Sometimes they just turn mean when they are abusive of power, like Spitz for instance. Others are just plain mean from birth. It all depends on their origins.”

I nodded, still wondering why they don’t have these kind of things in L.A. Not that I wanted them to be there.

“It’s so sad. Dogs killing other dogs for no apparent reason. That’s just wrong.” Curly said sadly.

“Usually they don’t have a choice. Sometimes, they would have the MADNESS, in which free will does not apply.”

“What’s the MADNESS?” I asked.

“It’s just a condition where you can’t control your own body and you go bazzurk!!!”

“Sounds fun…” I mumbled.

“But remember the one rule that stands above all others when it comes to survival out in the Alaskan wilderness: Kill, or be killed.”

CHAPTER 8:  Curly Lives the Rule

Curly and I gulped. Kill or be killed?! That sounds kind of harsh.

“But it’s true.” Dave said. “That’s how you survive here. Do you know how many dogs I had to kill just to eat? But of course I only kill if it’s absolutely necessary.”

“So will we have to…kill?” Curly forced out the last word. She never did any killing when she was queen. She let her servants do it.

“Maybe so. But don’t worry. For your sake, I’ll protect you. I’ll make sure you don’t get harmed. But only for the first few weeks ok? Then it’s on your own.”

Curly and I nodded. A few weeks was more than enough.

We all slept soundly that night. Dave showed Curly and I how to make a nest in the snow to keep from freezing at night. It really helped a lot. And I was sure Dave would protect us from any danger. For the first time in a month, I felt safe.

The next day we got up early to stretch and what not. Then we woke up our masters, who got us in our harnesses and attached them to the sled. In no time, we were all ready for another day of sledding. The musher made the first call and I shot forward with the others. I turned around and Dave gave me a smile of approval. I was glad I had mastered the quick start, but there were so much other things I still had to learn. And I was eager to learn them. I sensed this whole thing as a challenge, a way to work toward something instead of doing the same things everyday, like when I lived with Judge Miller. I wanted so much to be like Curly, but then again I wanted to reach my goals rather than just…do it right the first time.

I was getting a little better that day. I only tangled the traces 3 times. The day before it was 5. Spitz still gave me that angry glare whenever we stopped because of me. I just ignored it. At the end of the day, Francisco patted me on the head and said good job to both me and Curly. I felt appreciated for once and I loved it! And I was going to get a little more when I would be a master at this.

But my happy moments were fading. And there was only one reason why this would happen. And it did.

It was in the middle of the night, when we were all sleeping.

In my nest, it was all peace and quiet. Then I head a ruffle of snow. I popped out of my hole to see what was going on. I saw Curly looking around franticly!

“Curly? What are you doing?” I asked drowsily.

“I just thought I heard something. But it’s fine now. Let’s go back to sleep.” She dove back into her nest and fell back asleep. I did the same.

 The same thing happened again, but I didn’t get up this time. Maybe