The Theft of Howard's Dog

The winter of 98-99 I was on the Arctic Circle in the Northwest Territories. This is a true story.

Howard loves this female, blue eyed, white, wolf shaped dog named Slayer.

The first time I walked to Howard's place I saw a metal stake planted stark in the frozen ground on the lee side of his house. A chain went from the stake to the snow drift that always accumulated to the east of every building.

Knowing about the local dogs, I estimated the length of chain and tried to keep farther from the stake than the chain was long as I approached the door.

Howard kept his dog chained to a post all the time and fed it fish from the lake that he kept in a garbage bag under his porch. At thirty five below, a fish is more like an iron bar than what a southern dog would see as a meal.

The dog slept in that snowdrift chained to a post in front of Howard's picture window. Howard's idea of a good workout for the dog was to free the dog and race it with his snow machine every two or three days. The rest of the time it was tied to the post sleeping in the snowdrift.

One time I went with Howard about fifty kilometers out in the bush and we took the dog along. On the way out the dog ran an amazing distance beside the snow machine, and when it tired, Howard would let it jump aboard and ride the handlebars.

On the way back Howard ran the snow machine full tilt back the way we came for a good half hour, the dog pelting along behind, getting further and further back. When Howard stopped to wait for the dog to catch up it took the Slayer a good fifteen minutes to come in to view on the horizon, then Howard took off again.

A second wait of almost 20 minutes til the dog panted up to the snow machine. This time Slayer got on the snow machine on my lap as I sat behind Howard. Dog's idea, not mine, I didn't do a thing, the dog just hopped aboard, wiggled and made room for herself.

It distressed Howard that every time Slayer got loose it took him days to lure her back so he could chain her up again.

So along comes February and Howard leaves town on business and asks Don who with his wife Lois teaches in the school and who lives next door to him, to take care of the dog, feed it every couple of days or so.

Now, Don hates the idea of a dog being chained up. He has a collection of dog chains. Every time a stray goes by with its chain still attached, jerked free of its mooring or something, Don stomps on the chain and reels in the dog. Then he takes the chain off and frees the dog.

So Don frees Slayer the first time he feeds her. Claims to Howard the dog just got loose. Howard eventually gets the dog back, chains it up again.

A month of this goes by. Don doing the guerrilla sneak attack in the middle of the night, frees Slayer.

Howard is perplexed, can't seem to make the collar tight enough so the bitch can't slip out. Eventually, Slayer hides under Don's house. Don claims innocence.

Gradually as the winter progresses it seems Slayer is moved sort of permanently over to Don's house. Slayer even drags a piece of insulating material and a piece of front door carpet under Don's house and makes herself a sleeping nest.

Slayer follows Lois to work like an escort, and runs back to catch up to Don and follows him to work a few minutes later. Shows up at the school at end of the day and follows the both of them home. By day, she sleeps permanently curled up in the field right under their picture window and keeps an eye on the place. Never moves from the spot except when Don or Lois go out for a walk or to the store. At the store or at a visit Slayer just stays near the door and waits. No collar, no chain.

Howard is pissed. Calls the dog, waves treats. Slayer ignores him, turns to Don for directions. Slayer likes me too, comes to me when I call, for a scratch, but if Don merely appears the little dog rushes over to him, wagging and fawning.

Dognapping?

I don't think so.