Steele: Carpe Diem

(started 4/7/08 – ) 

Summary: At one point in his life, every dog and human seemed to idolize Steele for being such a champion, but there’s a time that no one else knows about – his difficult pup-hood. His constant family struggles with his mother and siblings allowed him to grow stronger and do whatever it took to make a name for himself . . . and eventually prove as he grew up that he was willing to seize the day that would await him.

Rating: PG-13 for possible dog violence, neglect of animals, and some foul language. Beware, kiddies! 

Disclaimer: Official characters and events from the movie “Balto” are the property of Universal Studios Inc. and any other events and characters are created especially for this story by the author, Juuchan17. Please do not use these fan characters without the author’s permission first – thanks!

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Author’s Note:

Yes, this is a background story about Steele. I’ll admit it, I’m not really fond of him in the original film of “Balto,” but I thought that it would be interesting to write about his background and past . . . maybe to add something about why he acted the way he did during the film. Probably the thing that I like most about him is his pride for himself and how he’ll do anything to make himself look good in the eyes of the humans. Of course, I don’t like him because of his hatred for Balto, but he does make a strong bully for the film’s screen time. His piercing blue eyes and devilish smirk make him quite an interesting villain to watch, and his downfall at the film’s finale quickly comes to bite him in the rear.  

So yeah, why not write about his past, right? Everyone writes about Balto’s past – since he is the result of a husky and a wolf – but I haven’t read or seen many fics about Steele’s past and how that molded him into the high-and-mighty character that we see in the film.

And I suppose I’ve started to make him and Balto very similar with this . . . but that’s something that you’ll realize as you read this tale. 

Steele’s tale isn’t an easy one as you would think – he’s very social and popular, but he hides who he really is very well, cloaking his real self deep within his soul. Again, you’ll have to read onward to understand my point.

Enjoy and please tell me what you think! 

- Juuchan17

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Part I

The season was early winter, December of 1924.  

In this area of the world, it could snow at any moment and most of the time, it did. Sometimes it would flurry lightly and float like a gentle feather, landing on the tip of one’s nose; other times, blizzard gales of hail and ice would dance violently from the sky, raining down onto the world without a single care for what it would hit below.

As spontaneous as the weather is, so are the creatures that walk and thrive upon the earth’s surface. When every creature is born in the world, they have a destiny that awaits them as they begin the fight to survive – whether it is meant for them to live a long life or not – and if the weak can thrive and make it through the tough times, only then they can seize the day that lies ahead. 

BANG! A man standing on a snowy patch of high hill in between the wilderness and a small town had shot his flare pistol high in the air, and it soon brightened up like a small version of the sun within seconds of being fired. The one-mile marker!

A sled being pulled by a team of strong-bred canines had just begun its entrance into the final 5,000 yards of the latest dog-sledding tourney, gliding swiftly across the snowy limits of a small town where their race would end. Led by a large duotone Malamute and connected by several other dogs of various sizes, the team grew closer and closer to the telegraph building – the first wooden shack at the town’s edge – as well as a wailing crowd of cheering humans and yapping dogs. Once the team had been completely engulfed by the buildings, the adorations became clearer to each set of ears on the team. 

“Oh, Steele!”

“We love you, Steele!” 

“Go for another win, Steele!”

The words of the cheering crowd seemed to blur past the black and white lead dog as he ran rapidly towards the finish line down the Main Street of the tiny Alaskan town. He easily ignored it – he knew they were nothing more than cat-calls and cheers from adoring fans and those that loved and watched the sport religiously, but the Malamute had heard them multiple times before from past races. The only noise he could hear was the rhythmic pounding of his clawed paws hitting the snowy ground in a galloping pace and the noise of himself panting steadily. His piercing ice-blue eyes were only focused on one thing: the drawn line within the snow that was only yards in front of him. 

“Steele!”

A worrying voice wailed behind him, causing him to turn one ear back. He didn’t even bother to look the dog eye-to-eye, especially since it was one of his teammates – a thin, light-gray husky named Star. 

“You’re going too fast! We can’t–”

Oh, just shut up, you . . . The lead dog groaned silently, rolling his eyes as he heard the whiny male dog complain. He hated it when someone complained about how he was doing things. Instead of talking back, the Malamute only lunged forward, running even faster and causing the thin dog to yelp in pain as the lead line tugged the harnesses of the other five or six dogs that followed behind him across the finish line. 

Once the wooden sled that carried the musher slid across the drawn line in the snow, the large black and white dog slowed his pace as the crowd’s cheering voices clearly hit his eardrums. The musher’s calm hands carefully freed the lead dog from his harness first, allowing him free-range of the street and the chance to quickly meet-and-greet those that were in the sidelines.

His icy eyes only gazed across the lower part of the crowd, peering at the huskies and dogs that looked up to him and nearly worshipped him as a sledding god. Again, he could have cared less as the oohs and aahs of his fellow canines yipped and barked in his direction, but his expression showed otherwise. 

Humph . . . He thought as his bright-white teeth opened into a smile, showing off for the people. Commoners . . . Don’t they get tired of cheering for me all the time?He sighed underneath his breath before his small entourage of sled-dogs joined him, following that normal routine that they always did. Oh, well . . . if they must, let them – more glory for me then! He chuckled silently as he began to feel calm within the presence of familiar creatures.

Nikki, one of the dogs on the team who happened to be a stout dark-brown husky that was cursed with the lack of height, spoke up behind him. “Hey dere, Steele,” he spoke in a cheerful yet deep-toned voice, easily revealing his heavy accent. “Youse were runnin’ a pretty good race dere, Boss, dere.” 

Again, the Malamute refused to look behind him to acknowledge his teammate, probably because of the fact that he, as well as most other dogs on his team, called him “Boss.” Well, he did like the power of authority – he would admit it, of course – but it seemed to get old over time for him.

“Yes, yes – I know,” the Malamute replied back, totally oblivious of his teammates. He only did what his adoring crowd wanted: his charming smile and darling gaze. Once he turned towards a group of females and flashed his handsome muzzle their direction, several of the females sighed lovingly and deeply, almost to the point of falling into his path. “Hello, ladies . . .” He murmured sweetly towards them; a couple of them actually fainted, immobilized by their love and idolization for the muscular black and white male. 

However nicely he spoke to the females, he did not share the same affections for them as they had for him – the Malamute was more into racing and winning than she-huskies. To him, the thrilling rush of leading his team to victory after victory during sled races was much more satisfying than being with a she-dog underneath the sheets any day.

“Hey, you showed those dames, eh, Boss?” Another male voice caught his attention. It was a orange-cream husky with a brown patch over one eye – his name was Kaltag, and he had a comical chuckle in his tone. “I’m tellin’ ya, that was the most ridiculous, the most hilarious, the most side-splitting . . .” 

The other dog in his entourage was Star, the thin husky. He laughed along with the other two, reacting to the females, but the light-gray simply replied with a completion of his teammate’s sentence. “It was so funny!” Totally oblivious to the other three that watched him, he guffawed insanely until the orange sled-dog bopped him on top of the head seconds later, causing him to plummet onto the ground with a quaint splat.

The remaining two canines looked at each other with a sense of relief despite the serious looks on their faces, but the Malamute did not join them. He had walked far ahead of them, and somehow, the others knew he wanted to be alone for a while. This was normal for him, to be alone like that, so the rest of the team dispersed back to their owners, knowing that food and fresh water was definitely waiting for them. 

His large paw-prints made a path from the safety of the street to a nearby alley. It was lined with wooden crates and other strange paraphernalia, but the Malamute just wanted some privacy. Not many other dogs – with exception of the stray dogs – ever came into those parts, but secretly he felt welcome there. Sure, he was a well-bred sledding dog with a home that allowed him live in the lap of luxury, but he didn’t know much about who he 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 her to lose social status and the trust of those that had once loved her.

That dark shade . . . The visions of that night in which she was used as a quick one-night stand smeared within her mind, causing her to growl violently. Those markings . . .Bridget was fired up to the point of standing, despite the fact that her other pups were nursing on her teats. Oh, this is that hell-demon’s doing! How dare he pass on his own appearance like this! Damn him . . . damn him! . . . And now, I shall be forever damned with him!The young boy gasped at what Bridget was now up to. 

The gray dog used her jaws to grab the black and white pup and shake him side to side. I’ll get rid of him myself! Violently, her hatred for her son made the tiny pup whine and cry out, as if to say “Stop! Stop!” but she wouldn’t . . . she couldn’t allow this child to survive after what had happened to her.

No, I can’t stop . . . You are his filthy spawn . . . and given his image too . . . I must destroy you for reminding me of his torment! Enraged, she tossed her head harder and a vicious growl slipped from between her white teeth and the fragile skin of the pup. Damn you for ever being born! I shall make sure I rid him from my life . . . FOREVER!  

The pup let out another whimper of innocence, as if pleading for mercy for he probably knew that he hadn’t really done anything wrong, but the mother knew that was a lie – to her, his only crime was the fact that he was born looking exactly like the male that stole her innocence. Oh, just even thinking about that and remembering the matter of minutes that it took for his seed to conceive her pups within her made her jaws clasp down upon the pup, almost to the point of drawing blood from the pup’s neck with her own fangs.

The young child was in disbelief and couldn’t take this horrible sight anymore – he knew that this was not the dog that he had loved and owned for three years. She was only eight weeks old when the boy with red hair fell smitten for the bright-eyed light-gray pup, and it was then that he knew she would be a great sled dog.

Bridget was always such a nice, kind dog, the boy thought as he felt a tear swell up in his eyes. A fast lead dog on a sled team, always ready to play with me and the other dogs, loyal to anyone she met or worked with – she would never hurt anybody!  

Why would any mother want to do this to their own flesh and blood? Mothers are supposed to love and be nurturing to their young – that’s what Mom told me, anyway – but whatever the case, that pup doesn’t deserve this . . . Bridget’s not a killer! She wouldn’t kill her own child after bringing it into the world!

I have to save that pup, no matter what!  

“No!” Instinctively, the boy screamed and began to rush in, despite his parents’ cries to stop; without any fear of becoming the dog’s next victim, he put Bridget in a head-lock and freed the pup from her jaws. “Let go of it, Bridget!” he snapped, tapping the tip of her muzzle with the palm of his free hand. “Stop, girl! That’s enough!”

“Jimmy!” The mother rushed out through the doorway and to her son, followed by her husband. They surrounded their child, protecting him in case Bridget turned on them for the actions of the boy, but Bridget only growled, signaling a clear defeat. 

I guess they can save you . . . for now, the gray dog growled within her mind as she turned away from the humans that held the black and white pup in their attention. Her eyes focused on the other four pups that were suckling her nipples for nourishment – they were the ones she would begin to love . . . Thankfully, they didn’t look like their father, so she would continue to care for them . . . But that other pup . . . I will never love him! She ignored her humans and began to lick and groom her remaining pups, but somehow her ears caught a bit of the conversation between the three people.

“Jimmy, are you okay?” the mother embraced her son as he cradled the rescued pup in his gentle hands. “She didn’t bite you, did she?” 

“I’m fine, Mom,” the boy replied, looking up at his parents before gazing back at the tiny pup he had saved. “Really, I am. Bridget’s my dog, so I know how to detain her . . . but I could let her hurt that pup. She would’ve kill it if I didn’t do something!”

The father looked back at Bridget, confused by the past actions of the last couple of minutes. “She seems calmer now. I wonder what could have happened to make her want to hurt such a fragile, little newborn . . .” 

“Oh, he’s not fragile, Dad,” Jimmy spoke up, defending the tiny innocent with his words. He had confirmed that the pup was a male only a moment ago, so the boy knew that the pup would be fine. “He wasn’t hurt at all! He doesn’t have a single scratch on him!”

“But that’s impossible,” the mother looked closely for herself at the boy-pup. “He’s so . . . small! Most likely he’s the runt of Bridget’s litter – maybe that’s what upset her.” Or at least she sensed his weakness and wanted to get rid of the frailest pup, just like what some wolves will do. The mother thought to herself – she had read books on dogs and wolves, so she was well-read on the actions of new canine mothers and how they made sure the strongest in their litter survived. 

“Your mother’s right, Son,” the father supported his wife’s knowledge. “He does seem smaller than the other pups. He wouldn’t stand a fighting chance against a grown dog like Bridget.”

“But he did, Mom and Dad, and thanks to me, he has a chance to live! Besides, his fur is so strong and smooth! It’s like . . . it’s almost like . . . he’s got skin of steel . . .” He paused for a moment, gazing at the whimpering pup that squirmed on his palms. “Steele . . . That’s what I want to name him, Dad.” 

“Steel?” The father lifted an eyebrow in confusion by his son’s name for the pup. “You mean, like the metal?”

“Yeah, except with an ‘e’ at the end,” the boy added, clarifying his choice of name by finding a writing utensil and a piece of paper. “S-T-E-E-L-E . . . Steele . . .” Jimmy wrote the name out on the paper, christening the pup. “That’s what his name will be . . . and I want to take care of him.” 

“Are you sure about that, Jimmy?” His mother asked. “Can you handle another dog, especially a newborn? Hand-raising pups is a very time-consuming task. They need a lot of love and devotion, you know.”

“I know, Mom, but this is what I want to do,” he responded proudly. “If Bridget won’t take Steele in, then I will. I’ll make him strong . . . and I’ll train him to be a sled dog just like his mother.” 

“Only if he lasts that long,” the father added a few words of worry. “He’s still the runt, so I won’t expect much from him yet. He still has a lot of growing left to do.”

He will last! Steele may be small right now, but he can still grow! Don’t doubt him yet, Mom and Dad! I still have faith in him . . . and you should at least give him a chance to prove he can do it! The boy wanted to respond back to his parents, but his attention was soon sent elsewhere by a loud noise. 

The newly-named pup began to whine loudly, crying out his hunger for mother’s milk. Jimmy cradled it on his shoulder, gently trying to calm him with a hushing whistle, but it was to no avail. The pup continued to cry for his mother, but she easily learned to tune his cries out.

Hmph, I won’t help you . . . Bridget thought to herself with an aloof gesture towards him. And even if you grow stronger, I never want to ever acknowledge you as my son! And with that, she put her attention back to Steele’s own siblings and licked them once more as they sucked for her natural serum of life. 

“Let’s take him to the vet just to make sure he’s okay,” Jimmy’s mother told the boy. “Perhaps he can give you some milk supplement for you to bottle-feed him.”

“Okay, Mom. Let’s get going,” Jimmy smiled.  

His father found a small strip of a blanket and handed it to his son. “Wrap little Steele in this cloth; it’ll keep him warm once we get outside into the chilly air.” He spoke with a cautious tone. “I’ve heard of many pups catching their death of cold before, even in this early spring air. We can’t be too careful with any of these newborns now, even if the weakest of runts have tough skin.”

“Gotcha, Dad. Thanks,” the boy nodded once before taking the blanket piece and carefully wrapping the pup with it. The tiny newborn squirmed and wriggled in the cloth, crying out to break free and return to his mother, but the child held it close to his chest, hoping that the gentle vibration of his own heartbeat would give Steele a bit of comfort. Luckily it worked like a charm, causing the pup to let out a yawn and gently whimper in the human boy’s protective grasp.  

“Don’t worry, Steele – I’ll protect you,” Jimmy murmured to the pup, knowing very well that the pup could not yet hear. “I may not be a dog or a mother, but I will make sure you get stronger. I promise.”

The parents both led their son and the little pup that was given a second chance at life downstairs and out the doorway that led into the main street of town. Their town was White Mountain, a small mountainside town that was about 70 miles away from the even smaller village of Nome, Alaska. The streets were filled with human families, their loyal house-dogs, and a couple of dog-sledding teams that were preparing to work hard for their supper.  

Dog-sledding was a major part of any Alaskan city, most especially because it was considered as a reliable source of transportation through the snowy terrain, slick icy passageways and rough mountain paths. Most dogs were born and bred especially for pulling sleds and becoming powerful members of a team for dog-sled racing, which was a traditional pastime.

As Jimmy and his family made their way to the vet’s office, a champion dog-sledding team slid past them on the snowy, slushy street, barking and whining as they used their combined strength to move the sled and the thickly-dressed human that called the shots for his team. The red-haired boy paused for a moment to watch them head out of town, but his thoughts were now filled with a future for his newfound pup, imagining the black and white Malamute male all grown up and leading a dog-sledding team. He could see him – Steele was stronger, bigger, and faster . . . he would be a champion! Jimmy was sure of it. 

His eyes gazed down on the blind pup, smiling as he was thinking about what his little pup could soon become once he began to get nourishment from the vet. I don’t care if anyone says that you’re a runt, Steele, Jimmy said to himself. You have just as much of a chance as any other pup to become something great.

 I just know that you’ll be a sled dog once you grow up . . . and I’ll be the one to help train you! 

(Part I – completed 4/22/08)