My dad was a New Zealander, proud and tough, my mother was a NA Inuit - I guess that's why I have hybrid vigor, and the strength and stamina it takes to survive in this land... My long dark hair offset my pretty features and athletic figure, as I gazed at myself in the mirror - a pretty but petite young girl of 19 years I really had little time for anything else but survival, and most men I had met had not really interested me yet. It was a very cold morning - the water bucket against the wall of my room in our humble cabin had a thin skin of ice - "allapa" it was cold! I readied my gear for a trip out to check my "subsistence trapping" lines and see if I could bag an elk or a moose - the frozen meat I brought back would keep us going for a month or more. My dad, a good bush pilot, was gone most of the time but my parents trusted my survival skills and did not really worry when I was out on a hunt alone for weeks at a time.
Dad said, "Fawn, I have a dog for you, he's an Inuit dog and knows how to take care of himself."
"I don't really need one," I replied, "I work faster alone."
"I know," he said, "but the bears are worse now than ever, the climate is getting warmer and the Polar and Grizzly bears are moving south."
"OK, I'll have a look at him outside," I replied. Stepping out the door into the cold dry air towards my pack sled I gasped to catch a breath - then I saw him standing against a snow bank. "He's to nice looking for a native dog," I thought, "most of them are black and ugly looking." One third wolf, I suspected, he was white and black with pale gray-blue eyes - and he stared right through me. Due to the loveless code of the north, these dogs are not treated as pets, or even given names, they sleep outside on the ice and eat frozen seal meat or unborn baby seals - if they are lucky enough to get them.
"Can he harness?" I inquired through the open door.
"Sure can", said Dad, "he led a team in the Ididerod Open last spring".
"OK," I thought, "maybe I will give him a try on this trip, and if things don't work out we can take him back to the camp."
Trying to keep warm I worked rapidly as I readied my gear. "I mustn't forget anything as that could be fatal," I thought. I rigged the dog to my pack sled with my 200 pounds of supplies plus his dry dog food. I figured we could get the rest of our food en route. For hunting I took a rifle and a pump shotgun for bears - just in case.
This time of year it stayed light most of the time, this far north of the Arctic Circle, on the northern slope Alaska's Brooks Range - too cold and dry to snow much. We made good progress, and I shared pulling the sled on my skis just behind the dog. I didn't have to match his pace as his four legs were shorter than mine and he provided a steady but strong pull once we got underway. Hours later and close to my first trapline I paused to look around. A huge drift near a beaver dam blocked my view. I snapped out of my bindings and climbed up and over the drift with my dog on his chain.
Grrrooowwl... I heard as I saw him, a huge Polar Bear crouched down and chewing on what looked like a bearded seal.
"Oh-Oh!" I exclaimed, I knew surprising a bear was one thing, but a feeding bear, well that was a disaster! My dog bolted upright and standing five feet tall he growled furiously loud at the bear till he hurt my ears. I pulled my bear gun and fumbled for a slug from the pocket of my parka... my mind racing, I dropped the shell into the open port and shucked it in... sshhclick! and I aimed for the bear's chest, just below the neck. My dog was pulling me so hard I could not aim well and I knew if I just wounded the bear I would be done for. My left hand on the dog's chain I decided to quickly release him so I could get a clean shot. Like lightening my dog ran behind the bear and, snapping at his rear legs and avoiding his deadly claws, he worried him savagely. "Good dog," I cried.
Then I heard another loud growl from the nearby scrub fur trees. A large silver tip, probably hungry, had wandered onto the scene! My dog stopped his attack on the Polar and took after the Grizzly in earnest - they both just vanished into the drifts making loud animal sounds. Before I could move the great white "Nanuk" slapped me to the ground and I thought my shoulder had broken - I lay still playing dead. I could feel the bear's hot foul breath on my cheeks as he hovered over me. By some miracle he stopped and began covering me with snow.
"He's not hungry now," I thought, "he will cover me up and come back to eat me later." I fought the urge to break and run. I lay still for what seemed like hours, knowing it's just not possible to outrun a bear, then I felt a hot tongue on my face - eyes closed, I prayed the end would come quickly.
Then I realized the tongue belonged to my sled dog! Not seriously injured, I rose to my knees and with gratitude gave my beautiful husky a big hug - surprised at such abnormal human attention he just wined and licked my face. "I think you have at least earned a name," I said, not even thinking. I said, "I will call you Ghost...yes, Ghost...dog of the North."
I gathered my gear and put on a new parka-shell as my down jacket had been ripped open by the bear, and proceeded to make camp about a mile upstream in a sheltered area. As I chained Ghost outside, I noticed the weather was unseasonably warm and feared an approaching storm. I secured the tent with ice screws, climbed inside and lit my candle lantern and stove, then I proceeded to melt ice. I made enough for myself and some for Ghost, although he was used to eating snow and ice I wanted to treat him special, after all he had just saved my life.
Soon the wind came, then blowing snow, and I crawled out to check the tent anchors and feed and water my dog, he was curled up on the ice, half buried in snow - I was freezing and thought how cold he must be out there! After I fed him I decided to lengthen his chain so he could shelter in the tent crawl space a bit out of the storm. My hands were numb and I accidentally let go of him. Like a shot he crawled into the tent as I chased after him. I found him comfortably dug into my sleeping bag!
"No, get out!" I scolded, "you're tracking in snow." I pushed on his back in an effort to dislodge him. He weighed almost 100 pounds and with all his dead weight and stubborn temperament I just couldn't budge him. Tired and freezing, I got my extra bag from the sled pack and opened it flat, covering him. Then I quickly undressed and got under it next to him for warmth.
"How wonderfully warm he is," I thought as I snuggled my frozen toes under his flank. This unsettled Ghost a bit and he rolled on his back to give me a little more room. "This is strange," I thought, "don't pamper your dogs the natives say - you will spoil them - and you must never get attached to them." Questioning this wisdom I could see my policy of discipline and distance had been cast to the winds. With all that heat and moisture in our tent, ice began to form on the roof, and the wind flapping the tent caused it to slough off and rain down on my face, it was cold and it stung me, so I buried my face in the thick luxurious fur on Ghost's neck and very soon I was fast asleep.
The morning dawned crisp and clear, our tent had withstood the storm which passed during the night, so I readied Ghost and my sled for travel. I needed to find a Caribou or something soon for a supply of fresh meat. Setting out north across an ice flow near shore we moved swiftly. I was able to harvest one caribou, a moose and a bearded seal that day and spent all day packing and drying the meat and hides - nothing can be wasted out here, so I fed the scraps to Ghost as he stood hungrily, but patiently by as I worked. We camped some distance away, as I knew that bears would smell my kill and come in the night.
I was right - awakened in the dim light of late evening by Ghost's howls outside I grabbed my gun and jumped in my stiffly frozen snow suit to poke my head outside. I saw the bear's shadow and that of Ghost standing tall outside on his chain leash, huge and ominous. "Ghost doesn't have a chance chained like that," I thought as I reached for a road flare. Striking the cap I gagged as the acrid sulfur smoke of the flare choked me. Tossing the flare quickly it rolled under the upright "Nanuk" and to my surprised he grabbed it with his mouth - Ouch! We were lucky I guess, between my flare tossing and Ghost's demoniac howls this bear gated off to lick his wounds. Still shaken, I went outside and gave Ghost a hug and tried to explain how much I had grown to love him during the brief time we had shared together. I think he really understood my affection for him. "All this Polar Bear stuff was just fun to him," I began to think! It was time to move out again.
Over the next five days I checked my trap lines, got another caribou and then decided to head home. I decided to cross the ice going back as it was quicker, although a bit risky this time of year. Once, when I was blinded during a whiteout storm, Ghost acted as my "seeing eye dog." Although I was 100 meters or so from the tent, I could never have found it in those conditions without him. He had saved my life again.
That night in the tent, as the storm raged outside and feeling safer and more secure when Ghost was close to me, I decided to let him inside. He looked magnificent as he lay stretched out next to me in the flicker of the candle lantern. "He must be very lonely," I thought, "but it's the way all those dogs live." I wanted to reward him for his faithfulness and trust and began to look at him as I would a man, at least as a man that I felt I could give my love.
Restless and cold in my own sleeping bag I decided I wanted him, but I was not sure if he would want me - I mean he was still just a dog after all. I don't wear anything while in a down sleeping bag, that makes you colder, so kneeling part way out of the bag liner I stretched out to reach my pack in the corner of the tent, my breasts and nipples were firm and tender, not so much from the cold as from what I was thinking... If I could just get on my back with the pack under my hips maybe I could coax... I stopped short as Ghost, getting up quickly, was probing my rear with his cold nose - he began licking me! This wasn't going to be as difficult as I thought - it looked like they were right, Ghost knew how to take care of himself, "...and me," I giggled with delight.
If it had not been so brutally cold I could have stayed like that forever as he worked his tongue into my pussy. I let him mount me from the front and with one hand tried to guide his stabbing member into me, but he growled a warning, so I let him go and scooted a bit more under him. As soon as his hot tip found my pussy lips and peeked inside then nature took over. I had watched dogs "do it" before as a giggling young schoolgirl, and I knew he would not disappoint me now! We made love for what seemed like an hour, his throbbing doggie-cock filled me to the point I thought I might burst - he hurt just a bit at first, but then all I felt was wave after wave of pleasure as I came again and again.
Suddenly his pressure went down and he rolled off my chest and out of me with a "plop" and then immediately began licking me till I screamed. "No one can hear or see what we do out here," I thought. I looked at his huge member hanging down in front of me from the sheath and thought "My God, he is huge!" I couldn't believe all that had been inside me.
The storm raged for seven days and nights but I didn't really care. With plenty of supplies, Ghost and my books for company, I could have bivouacked there forever. The eighth day brought good weather, warmer and no wind. "Time to go home," I called to Ghost, and he eagerly let me harness him. We moved swiftly over the ice pack toward the tundra and home.
Crrraaacckk... I heard the death sound that meant only one thing - bad ice! For safety I took Ghost off the sled and headed out cautiously to find a safe place to cross with the sled.
Pop... Pop... Crracckk... the pack had broken and tilted to a dangerous angle - I slid toward my death in the cold black water... Gasp!... the cold shock pushed the air out of my lungs as I was immersed up to my waist in the icy water. I could dig in one of my ski poles to stay partially on the ice but I could not even scream. Ghost, knowing I was in trouble, grabbed my nylon pack strap and with a savage pull he pulled me out and onto the tilting ice and I scrambled toward safety.
I jumped the four foot wide gap rapidly forming between me and the snow pack and scrambled to the sled. I had heard great stories like this about these Inuit Husky dogs before, but now I knew first hand they were true!
I turned to call Ghost but to my horror he was no where to be seen. "No! No no..." I cried, as I dashed around behind the break totally ignoring the danger. I looked for a time but knew if I did not change my suit quickly the wild North would claim me next. The cold, and sometimes cruel, north had spawned my beloved Husky and given me a brief chance to experience his love - now it had taken him from me forever... I dropped to my knees on the snow covered ice and I cried.