Sojo. Pam Flowers

      Dad shook his head and laughed.

       Mom, don’t I look beautiful?

      Yes, dear, you look quite lovely, said my mom. But don’t chew on your harness. Pam won’t like that.

      Soon it was nap time so Pam took our harnesses off and gave each of us our first taste of every sled dog’s favorite treat—liver! Ummm-um.

      Back in our doghouse Anna asked in a sleepy voice, Do you still think that was puppy abuse?

      No. At first I thought Pam was going to make us pull a sled but all we had to do was try on a harness. I was worried for nothing, I said yawning.

      Even I wasn’t scared after awhile, said Roald.

      It was a happy day and I smiled as I drifted off to sleep thinking about liver treats and dog harnesses.

      The very next day Pam was in one of her rare happy moods and did something fun. “Today we start lesson number two. It’s a real drag,” she said with a laugh.

      She put my harness on me and then took a length of string with a stick tied to it and tied the string to the end of my harness. It made a great game and I ran in circles chasing the stick until I got so dizzy I fell over.

      Pam laughed and laughed. Then she helped me get up and said, “Sojo, you’re never going to be a sled dog if all you do is run in circles.”

      It doesn’t matter because I’m not going to be a sled dog. I’m going to be a show dog.

      As we got bigger so did the sticks until we were dragging around small pieces of firewood. Even though we were getting older, we still weren’t chained up yet. So when we got tired of running in circles, we went back to exploring our world while dragging pieces of firewood with us.

      Pam was always building something. One day we could hear her working over by the side of her house where we couldn’t see what she was up to. We were going to go investigate but all that pounding and buzzing was so loud, we decided to do something else. We had never gone down the dogsled trail so we figured we would investigate to see where it led. There were lots of good smells to check out as we poked along. After awhile Roald turned around and went back home but Anna and I kept going. We came out on a really wide, flat trail that smelled weird and was covered with packed snow. While we were standing there trying to decide what the smell was, we heard a low rumble in the distance.

       Anna, what is that?

      I don’t know.

      The rumble grew louder. I had just turned my head in the direction of the noise when all of a sudden this huge, boxy-looking monster came around a curve. It had a giant, flat nose that covered its entire face and it was heading straight for us!

      It yelled at us—BEEP! BEEP!

       Anna, quick! Run for your life!

      I turned around to run but my feet got tangled in my line and I fell over.

       Anna, help me! The monster’s going to get me. Helllp!

      Anna tugged at my line with her teeth but she couldn’t untangle me. She curled her lips back and snarled at the monster as it roared toward us.

       BEEP! BEEP! BEEEEP!

      Anna barked fearlessly and lunged at the monster, “Woof! Woof! … WOOOOF!!”

      Frightened by Anna’s bared teeth, the monster swerved, just missing me as it disappeared down the trail.

      Sojo, are you all right? Anna asked.

      Yes, but I thought that was the end, I said trembling. I’m glad you were here to save me.

      Just then Pam came running down our sled trail. When she saw me lying there tangled in my line, she dropped to her knees beside me. When she realized that I wasn’t hurt, she scooped me up in her arms and carried me off the big trail.

      “Sojo, I’m so sorry. I should have been watching you puppies better. This road is really dangerous. I’m so sorry…. I’m so sorry,” said Pam. Tears flowed down her cheeks as she untangled my feet and then she hugged me so tightly I could hardly breathe. It’s okay, Pam. I’m not hurt. I could see how upset Pam was and I wished she could hear my silent words the way dogs can.

      We walked back to the dog lot and there sat three new doghouses lined up by our house. Roald was already tied to one house. Pam tied Anna to another and me to the last one.

      We could see each other and we could touch noses, but never again would we be allowed to run loose together without Pam along to watch over us.

      July and August were too hot to drag logs around so we spent a lot of time just hanging out. To stir things up, Pam started a dog-of-the-day program. On her days off Pam would come out after breakfast and turn one dog loose for the day. The first time I was dog-of-the-day I raced around the dog lot, but as soon as Pam went inside, I headed straight for the green cylinder.

      Douggie, our leader and the biggest and oldest dog in the lot, called after me. Where do you think you’re going, Sojo?

      I sat down and said, Well, umm….

      In a voice loud enough for everyone to hear, Douggie said, This is a privilege we don’t want to lose. No dog-of-the-day must ever run off to the road or try to steal Pam’s garbage.

      There was something about Douggie. He wasn’t mean and he hardly ever barked at anyone but when he told you to do something, you did it.

       Can I run around?

      Yes, you can run around. Just don’t run off.

      And so I ran. Every time I was dog-of-the-day I would squint my eyes nearly shut and run up and down the dogsled trail as fast as I could until I couldn’t run anymore. Running fast and free was the greatest joy of my life.

      One of the joys of Pam’s life was making things and she was spending this summer building a couple of new dogsleds. On a pleasant, sunny afternoon while she was attaching the sled runners, our neighbor Dave stopped by. He was a dog musher too and a really big guy, maybe 6 feet 4 inches tall, and at least a couple hundred pounds.

      “What you up to?” asked Dave.

      “We’re going on a 2,500-mile dogsled expedition. I’m going to be the first woman in recorded history to dogsled alone across the Arctic. So I’m building two new sleds for the trip.”

      “When you gonna do that?” asked Dave.

      “We’ll head up north to train in December.”

      “Wow!” he said. “How many of them clunker dogs you takin’?”

       Clunker? Did you hear that, Anna? He just called us clunkers!

      Don’t worry, Sojo, Pam will stick up for us.

      Pam scowled and said in an irritated voice, “Eight … and they’re not clunkers, Dave.”

       I wonder which dogs are going?

      “Ernie and Jocko are too old to go on such a long journey and Amy’s a pet, so they’re staying home.” Then Pam looked over at me and said, “Everyone else goes.”

       Yikes! She can’t possibly mean me!

      “You got any sponsors for this so-called expedition?” asked Dave sarcastically.

      “Not yet,” replied Pam.

      Dave gave a little snort and said, “Well, good luck. You’re gonna need it.”

      Pam stood up and looked Dave straight in the eyes and said, “We don’t need luck,