June 25

Wickwire was a mirror to Moose, his double, almost his twin. A little shorter, with ears only slightly smaller than our Moose’s, but he had the same coat, the same white fur along the eyes, the same ever-curious hazel eyes & the same genuine, self-possessed demeanor. He was every bit himself, uninhibited, fully realized, content unto the last. & yesterday, after a weekend of romping off the Denali Highway, our friends had the dismal & horrendous task of burying their dear Wickwire after he was struck by a passing RV. I cannot imagine their pain, nor the depth of questioning that transpires in such circumstances. Wickwire had been there underfoot when they began their lives in their cabin, camping with them in winter & summer, running in team, destroying the same massive, “indestructible” chew toys that Moose routinely guts. Everyone in the neighborhood knew him well, even if they only met him once or twice. When I first started frequenting Kristin’s old cabin, I mistook him for Moose once & tried to convince him into my truck on Denebola. I was confounded when I arrived home & found Moose sleepily dozing on the couch. At that same cabin, we’d often hear the yard dogs let out whines, & we’d always know it was Wickwire coming along to pay a visit. That’s how it is off Stampede; the dogs want to routinely touch base with one another. Moose goes over to Jason & Jess’s, Strega comes by to see how our cabin is doing, Belle weaves around the Schiebers’ & so on & so on. Up here, everyone knows you by your truck & your dog, period. & because that’s true, what a thing to see a dozen or more people converge to pay their respects to Wickwire & to offer their condolences or memories or open arms to our friends. Every one of them dog people, every one of them understanding of the bond we all share with a sled dog. What a place we live, where it’s understood without question that such a pain, though singular to our friends, becomes a kind of communion, a remembrance, a pause. We each & all went home to our respective yards & knelt down in front of each of our dogs & looked them in the eye & felt their love & power. Littlehead held a paw out to Kristin & gently licked the tears from her face. Moose looked straight into my eyes as I told him the news of a second sibling of his now no longer with us, & his reaction was to console me. Dogs have such extraordinary hearts. I don’t know what endures beyond life, what lingers yet among the living, but the love that we are so incredibly fortunate to feel from dogs like Wickwire when they are with us never does recede or wane or diminish, but clutches tight & appertains, a light wherever the trail takes us.

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Unknown said…
Thank you for writing this AP. And for loving dogs so much.
June 25, 2012 at 12:15 PM
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