Dogs: Here, There, Everywhere

Mother dog and pup seem to live around our host house. I've seen them nearly every day, hanging around, curled up and sleeping, or, once, stealing an Arctic Char and running like hell back down the beach for some delicious fish and away from frustrated people. These canines are thieves, friends, but their cleverness is endearing.

First, I was playing with the miniature settings on my camera because I thought it would be cool if our iceberg looked itty-bitty. Here are the fruits of my labour (not exactly what I was aiming for; alas!).

Does it sort of look little? Not really. Oh well. I tried.

Teeny-tiny puppy.

Then, on our walk yesterday, we came right by one of the boats that the pooches like to huddle underneath.

Cuddles against the cold.

And, this morning, when I opened up the blinds to get a look at the day, the dogs were right underneath our front window. Our working hypothesis is that they like to sleep under a shed next door. They aren't exactly friendly -- watchful, wary of any rocks that might come hurtling their way -- but they aren't aggressive either. And part of me wants to go out and sneak them pieces of ham, but it's better that they cultivate their fish-finding habits and self-sufficiency, as I'm not going to be around to feed them. Southerners who live in Pond Inlet very often end up with stray dogs and it's no wonder. We're soft-hearted. If we're up here, we're usually making plenty of money and we have enough food security that we can afford to spend time thinking about our dogs' stomachs rather than our own or our childrens'. One of the teachers with whom I worked during my practicum has a husky mix named Oscar because he found puppy-Oscar in a garbage can (get it? Oscar from a garbage can).

If I was here for any length of time, I'd no doubt end up with a dog. For now, however, I steel my heart and watch these two, Mother Dog and Puppy, scurry around together. And, as I've said, these dogs aren't unhappy. This climate, this lifestyle, is bred deep into their genes; theirs is a traditional lifestyle, the relationship with their owners one spooled out over hundreds and hundreds of years of working relationships. Even when I get it intellectually, though, I guess I'm just a soft-hearted qallunaat right down to the core.

I am working on developing that thicker skin. I need it. But I still want to make sure the mushy inside bit is there, only a little more protected.

Right outside our window.

Many nights, I hear the sounds of dogs yipping and howling out on the ice -- maybe getting an evening meal, perhaps watching a bear wander by in the distance. Sometimes, as Brooke and I walk down the hill toward home after school, we'll look down and see the dogs, no bigger than grains of rice scattered across the ice, and their voices carry all the way up to us, eerie in the quiet under the mountains.

And tonight we were treated to the sight of a team of dogs hustling by the iceberg, their legs flashing quickly underneath them.

Hurry, pups.

There's ground still to tread.

Running dogs and dogs I kind of want to cuddle make me, of course, think of my own dog. It's been a long time since you've seen a picture of Jensen, dear readers, and no doubt you've been waiting patiently for this handsome mug again!

Cuddles with Kerstin. Apparently this is actually his I'm going to throw up in about 10 minutes face. Dog ownership, folks. Very glamourous.

I'll be arriving on Jensen's birthday -- the Big #3! -- and rumour has it that he's pretty thrilled. Apparently, when Kerstin pulled on one of my sweatshirts the other day, Jensen sniffed it forever and got really waggy and excited (only to find that I didn't materialize), so I'm sure our reunion will be one for the memory books. And I'm pretty excited to see my own dog again, who also used to run and run and run and who now sleeps and sleeps and sleeps and cuddles plenty as well.

The cats, though. The cats are indifferent, as always. Perpetually indifferent. Continually indifferent.

One of the profound and personal discoveries I've made here in Pond Inlet, land of mountains and sky and snow? I am well and truly a dog person.