I Thought I Was Alone

May 2, 1928

What an unusual day I just had. It certainly didn't start out in any odd or bizarre way. I mean I woke up, went to work, came home from work, and, well, the usual bit. Today, however, was different. No sooner did I walk through my front door when, suddenly, this brown wolf-dog crashes through my front door. He left a huge hole in it, and I almost lost my cool completely. After assessing the damage, I apologized for lashing out and explained why I did. That's when I got I shock that I won't soon forget: This dog spoke to me! He said of situation that I described: "Uh, yeah, you're getting the short end of the stick alright." That's what I heard leave his mouth. I couldn't help but agree with what he said. But I wasn't too keen with his suggestion for getting back at my co-worker at Outdoor Outfitters, David Stoner. Sure, that guy was practically unbearable. And that's putting it bluntly. But I don't think a murder-suicide was way to go.

With that said, this dog said he came to apologize to me for tripping him yesterday. For those of you reading this who don't know what happened, I got tripped by this dog yesterday and knocked a window out of two carrier's hands. I also got a piece of a glass bottle stuck in my right cheek. It took a pair of small tongues to remove it.

Getting back to the apology, the dog revealed his name to me: Balto. I was stunned. I had heard of him before. I knew what he managed to accomplish. When I first came to America, the serum run was taking place. None of the stops on the team's tour of America were anywhere near where I lived, so I never got to see them. But I did hear of them. When he revealed his name to me, I couldn't believe that I had a local celebrity in my house. Even more unbelievable, we both knew what the other was saying. The problem was that we didn't always know what the other was saying. Not that we weren't speaking the same language. The thing was that Balto says I have this very thick Finnish accent, and yet he doesn't have an Alaskan accent. Then again, I don't know if there's such a thing. To me, he had this gruff sound to his voice that sounded a little muffled to me, so sometimes I couldn't understand what was coming out of that yip-yap mouth of his. And he couldn't understand some things that I was saying. I tell you, when you and the life form you're talking to are speaking the same language, and neither one of you can understand what the other is saying, something screwy is going on.

Now to the important part: After seeing a few things around my house that to him were completely unknown, I told Balto that most of them were relics from my native Finland. The questions he had led to me telling him my backstory. By the time I finished, he was in shock. Apparently, that whole thing about not knowing who you are or where you belong: he went through it, too. I, too, was quite surprised. Balto went on to reveal his own story. He told me about being taken in and raised by a goose named Boris when he was just a pup, his early days in Nome, being teased by the other dogs in town because of his wolf heritage (as if those idiots don't know they're descended from the wolf), and his rivalry with this one dog named Steele, who absolutely hated him for reasons I can't understand. He stopped after talking about saving the town from the diptheria scare, which was when things took a turn for the better for him. That was the important part that he tried to get across. After he finished, I felt a little relieved, knowing that I wasn't the only one in Nome who is going or had gone through that. Could it be that the only way I can get any respect is to pull some kind of similar heroic action? If so, then what is there to do?

Eventually, I went outside to shoot some hockey pucks at my practice net. Balto came out to watch. During the shooting drill, one of my pucks got really airborne, bounced off a few roofs, and then hit Balto's mate, Jenna, hard on the head. Fortunately, she wasn't seriously injured. Boy, was I relieved at not having to pay a vet bill. Whew! I heard that the two had plans for the evening, which to me sounded an awful lot like dating. I asked if that was the case. Turns out, they're past just dating. They're are, practically, an item. I knew what Balto meant when he said "We're way beyond that." But how it was revealed next threw my entire perception of reality into question.

A few hours later, I was relaxing in my sauna with my brother, Kaj. Balto and Jenna were passing by on their way home when they heard the noise. I wasn't too thrilled at first with Balto peeking in through the window on my sauna. I even almost mistook him for some kind of peeping tom. All he could see of me was from the waist up, so he didn't know what to think. He actually had the nerve to ask if I was naked. Which I wasn't. He asked what I was doing, and I told him how back home in Finland, we believe that in order to rejuvenate the body and soul, you take a hot sauna bath and follow that up with an ice-cold snow massage. He then had the gall to ask if they follow that with a heart attack. In my defense, I told him no and that's it's actually quite invigorating.

So now, as I sit at my desk, writing this journal entry, and after fixing my front door, there's only one thing left to say: Thanks, Balto. For both the apology and for revealing that I'm not the only one who's had it rough here because they didn't fit in. That just made my day. Nobody else believes that I can understand what you say. But I say let them think what they want. At least we know the truth in that area.

It's getting late now, and I have a morning workout and a show with my band, Lapp Attack, tomorrow. And so I conclude this entry with the above mentioned thank you. And hope that my situation will somehow improve.