Strong For Skeena

“Uncle Stan said I can choose five dogs for my sled team when I feel I’m strong enough,” I say to Skeena, tossing her some suet. Snow swirls around the fifteen other dogs chained to their houses nearby. “I can choose any dogs except Rudy, Uncle Stan’s lead dog. If I could choose Rudy, I wouldn’t.”

I look into Skeena’s blue eyes. “You are going to be my lead dog,” I say.

I found Skeena last spring, a stray, matted puppy hunkered under Uncle Stan’s steps. The first time we hooked her to Rudy’s towline, Rudy snarled and lunged at her. Now she tolerates Skeena on the line, but barely. I tell Rudy that Skeena saves her energy for running, not fighting, but Rudy usually just growls.

Skeena always listens to me, so I tell her things I don’t tell anyone else. “Uncle Stan knows that I’m already strong,” I say. “I’m taller than anyone else in seventh grade. But he says being strong means something else, too, and when I have that strength I will know.” 

I leave Skeena to chew on that thought along with her suet because I’m freezing and I have six more dogs to feed.

I plan to jog home, a half-mile down the road. I’m barely out of Uncle Stan’s driveway when Dr. Saritaka’s pickup truck comes rattling down the road. He stops beside me and I jump in, rubbing my hands over the heater.

“Matt,” he says, “I hear you are your uncle’s dog sitter for the weekend.”

I nod. I like Dr. Saritaka, which is just fine because he happens to live smack-dab beside our house. He’s a veterinarian, which explains his interest in my uncle’s dogs.

“Uncle Stan said to call you if anything happens,” I say.

“This is a very good weekend to do that, since I’ll be home for all of it,” he says.

That night I hear the distant barking of Uncle Stan’s dogs. I imagine that a deer took a shortcut across his backyard, setting them off. I fall asleep, dreaming of my dog team, with Skeena leading.

In the morning the wind beats our house as I pull on the woolens, hat, and coat Mom laid out for me. She knows I hurry and often don’t bother with the warm stuff. She tells me I won’t look very cool with my frostbitten ears flopping like a Labrador puppy’s.

I jog to Uncle Stan’s house and start feeding the dogs. I start with Kyuk but glance toward Skeena’s house. I always give her extra attention, telling her what she needs to know to be my lead dog.

Her broken chain is lying like a snake on the frozen snow.

When I see her, lying on her side near the back of her dog-house, I run. My knees hit the ground beside her. Her ears are rags, a gash bleeds freely below her right eye, and her fur is clumped with blood.

I run to the garage and grab the first-aid gear and a blanket. I wrap Skeena in the blanket. I try to bandage her gash, but there’s too much blood.

I follow her trail of blood with my eyes. It ends at Rudy. I get up to check Rudy; she has teeth marks on her ears, but nothing serious. A piece of Skeena’s broken chain and her collar lie tangled with Rudy’s chain. Skeena must have broken her chain to chase the wild animal that crossed the yard last night. When their chains became tangled, Rudy must have battered Skeena until Skeena slipped out of her collar and crawled away. 

I tell Skeena that I have to get Dr. Saritaka. She is shaking horribly; I can’t leave her on the cold ground.

I tuck the blanket around her and hoist her into my arms.

I stumble to the road. I count my steps and match my breathing to my counting. It’s a half-mile. My arms are strong. The wind whips its icy fingers around my head, and my hat flies off.

My ears are doomed.

The wind flings Dr. Saritaka’s door right into him. I don’t know if he looks surprised from that or from seeing me.

“Matt!” Dr. Saritaka cries. “Lay her here!”

I look at the floor. “No,” I say with a gasp. “She needs something soft.”

Dr. Saritaka is as fast as the wind as he snaps out a thick towel. I put her down, my arms trembling. I clutch them to my sides because they’re floating to the ceiling. 

Dr. Saritaka moves quickly. I lose track of what he’s doing as Skeena’s eyes lock on mine. They are powerful magnets; I lean close to her. I realize that I’m crying. I look hard into her eyes until my brain hurts. “Skeena,” I say, “you are going to be my lead dog.”

Her eyes close as Dr. Saritaka gives her a shot. He gives me directions, and I clean her while he stitches the wounds.

I ask Dr. Saritaka the question I have been afraid to ask because Dr. Saritaka always tells the truth. “Will Skeena still be my lead dog?”

“She will be the best lead dog, and you deserve her, Matt.”

He looks after her while I leave to tend to the other dogs on this bitterly cold day.

I know what I will tell Uncle Stan when he gets home: “I am strong enough now.”