and then he barks in my ear and that hurts. Pam keeps telling him to stop but he never listens.
Sometimes we trained on roads but other times we sledded on narrow trails that wound through thick forest. I liked the trails best because it was silent except for the whisper of the sled runners gliding over the snow and the trails smelled much nicer than the road and felt softer under our paws.
One day while Pam was outside splitting firewood, Dave showed up again. He walked up the path and looked over the two sleds Pam had finished.
“Hello, Dave,” Pam said. Whack, and a piece of firewood split in two.
“You still plannin’ on traipsin’ across the Arctic with them clunker dogs?” asked Dave.
“Yes, Dave, and they are not clunkers,” said Pam. Whack!
“You find any sponsors?” asked Dave.
“No, Dave, not yet,” said Pam. Whack!
Dave’s eyebrows shot up in a look of surprise and amazement. “You told me you wrote letters to over two hundred companies and you’re tellin’ me none of ’em would sponsor you?”
Pam took in a deep breath and sighed. “That’s right.”
“Well, what’d you expect? What are ya, five foot nothin’, 100 pounds soakin’ wet? Why would anyone sponsor you?” asked Dave with a sneer.
Pam didn’t answer; she just brought the wood-splitting maul down on another piece of firewood. Whack!
“So where you gonna get the money?” asked Dave.
His rudeness finally made Pam angry and she glared at him in defiance. “I’m going to borrow it, Dave. Then we’re going to cross the Arctic, then we’re coming home, and then I’m going to pay back every last cent,” she snarled.
Dave made a little snort and shook his head, like he was going to start laughing. Then he said the most unkind thing of all: “You know, no one thinks you can do this. Everybody thinks you’re gonna fail.”
“Maybe you care what everyone else thinks, Dave, but I don’t.” Whack! Whack!
“Well, good luck because that’s the only thing that’s gonna get you across the Arctic,” said Dave.
Pam straightened up and watched Dave as he walked back down the trail to his ratty old truck. With the woodsplitting maul clenched in both hands, she muttered something under her breath that I couldn’t hear and then turned back to the woodpile.
Whack! Whack! Whack!
Chapter Five
By November we dogs were becoming a real team and, much to my surprise, it felt good to be a part of it. In fact, I had actually come to enjoy our daily training runs. Even Pam seemed happy and I assumed she had forgotten all about her starry-eyed plan to dogsled across the Arctic.
As I look back on those days, I realize all the signs were there but somehow I missed them. Pam hooked us up in bigger and bigger teams until all eight of us were working together in one team. We trained longer, traveled more miles, and hauled more weight on the sled each day. Pam bought bags and bags of dog food and, in her meticulous way, put each one in a heavy plastic bag, then into a burlap bag, and then tied and taped the burlap bag shut. For reasons I didn’t understand at the time, she loaded them into her truck and hauled them away. Even when Pam quit her job I just figured she wanted to spend more time with us.
Then, on December 2, everything changed. Pam rented a huge truck, put each of us in an airline kennel inside the back of the truck, stuffed the sleds and a bunch of gear in, and drove off down the highway. Three hours later we arrived at a place that was very noisy and confusing. It would have been so much nicer if Pam had told us what was happening, but I could see she was very nervous and when she gets nervous she doesn’t say much to anyone.
Where are we, Mom? What are those big trucks with wings? I asked.
We are at the airport, dear, and the big trucks with wings are called airplanes, answered Mom.
Why do they need wings? I asked.
So they can take off and fly, said Mom.
Fly??? Up in the air like the birds? I asked.
The big dogs and I have all been in them and it’s quite safe, said Mom.
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