First, there is something important you should know about me. I was adopted.
My birth parents’ people were in the military, and they loved me, but they had to go across the ocean and couldn’t keep me or my brothers and sister. So my new mom and dad bought me a plane ticket and I flew from Kansas to Alaska when I was just a little guy. I was born in January, and in March I made the long trip on an airplane.
Apparently, I already had a big personality. When my plane landed in Seattle, the airport called my new parents and asked if it was okay to let me out of my kennel because I was screaming so loud I was bothering the other dogs. That’s how they knew they were getting a pistol. Which, ironically, was my name at the time.
When I finally arrived in Alaska, I couldn’t believe how cold it was. Kansas had snow and was cold, but Alaska was on a whole different level. I was tiny and shivery, and my new dad wrapped me in a blanket to keep me warm. I liked sleeping by the heater where the logs burned on the coldest days.
It took me a while to grow fur on my feet so they wouldn’t freeze on the ice. Mom said some dogs, like sled dogs, have to wear shoes, but Sheps grow their own built-in boots. She was right. By my second winter, I had nice, furry feet. My sister still has extremely hairy feet. On “mani-pedi day – that’s what we call it when Dad trims our nails, he still has to trim Sister’s foot hair. I think she is proud of it.
It’s essential that Sheps grow fur on their bellies, because if you don’t, certain dangly parts can get stuck to the ice when you lay down. I will not go into details. Just know this: it happened. It was not fun. OUCH.
When my plane landed, I met my new mom and dad, and my mom carried me everywhere. I loved it. If she wasn’t carrying me, my dad was. I had the usual Shep car sickness. We would pull out of the driveway, and I would throw up my kibble all over the seat. This went on until I was about four months old. Mom said I had it worse than any of her other Shepherds. She said if I even looked at a car before my ears stood up, I got sick. I don’t know what that means, but she is usually right about things.
My main job was being held, being admired, and sniffing things. I took my responsibilities seriously.
Living in Alaska was a wonderland. The trees were tall and full of incredible smells. There were huge creatures called moose and tiny ones called voles. There were birds and squirrels, and I was free to run and play all over our land.
Most importantly, I trained for several essential jobs.
I became the Protector of the Land. This meant I had to patrol the property and make sure everything was safe. I checked the trees. I checked the wind. I checked the strange noises. I made sure no suspicious squirrels were getting too confident.
Moose were very large and sometimes rude. They would just walk around like they owned the place. I kept a respectful distance, but I memorized their faces in case I needed that information later. Voles were fast and sneaky. Birds were everywhere. I personally supervised them. I also kept a close eye on the bees and wasps. Dad said no but one time I caught one. That didn’t go well but I still kept trying to do it again.
I worked closely with my dad, who was my commanding officer. He was in charge, but I was very involved in decision-making. I followed him everywhere to make sure he was doing things correctly. I always helped stack wood. He appreciated my help.
My sister was my responsibility too. I was her bodyguard and her baby brother at the same time, which is a very complex position. I took it seriously.
Not all creatures were treated the same under my protection duties. The squirrels were suspicious. The voles were fast. The moose were rude. But the owls were different. Dad told me the owls were okay. He said they were a special kind of bird and I was not to mess with them. I didn’t understand why, but those were my orders. They sat very still and stared at me with big serious eyes. I stared back. We had a quiet understanding. They were strange, silent, and clearly important.
Even though I didn’t fully understand their mission, I respected it. When your commanding officer gives you orders, you follow them.
So the owls stayed.
I learned how to be brave in Alaska. The cold teaches you that. The quiet teaches you too. You learn to watch, to listen, and to love your family so much that you would stand between them and anything.
Even the cold.
Not bad for a screaming airplane puppy. Karl, out.
