Godspeed
GODSPEED – by Nancy Cowan
Like a mist, consciousness drifted over the drowsy group. Here and there a muzzle lifted so the owner could scent-scan the air. A dozen pairs of ears swiveled, then pricked. She was coming. One by one, they sensed her approach.
A heavy tail thumped as a Malamute gazed down the starry path. It had been a long time for him, this waiting. No matter, the feel of her caress was fresh and unfaded. He had slumbered for over forty years, paws twitching, dreaming of her arrival and of dashes over mountain trails. He never knew when his breath had frozen mid-dream. He had just continued his sleepy vigil.
“She comes.” The knowledge passed from dog to dog. A shaggy form rose and yawned. How many steps had he taken at her side – through busy, happy years, through lean and bitter years? Nearby, a nervous whine escaped the wolfish throat of a more anxious creature.
A shifting of weight from paw to paw betrayed the restlessness of the show dog. His immaculate coat showed no rumpling from his long repose. Beside him, a little bitch crept forward to peer between the shoulders of those in front of her.
Across the broad expanse, dogs were rising, throwing off the effects of their deep slumber. Ice crystals from New England, the Rockies, Alaska, the Arctic and Antarctica were flung into the air to mingle and fall with a minute tinkling sound.
They all knew she had loved them. The unchangeable law that a dog’s life is of short duration compared to a man’s had doomed her to countless partings. Her dogs would be waiting, the old timers said, to pull her sled through Eternity. The mushers’ legend had comforted her and, years later when she was frail and aged, she would think of her dogs resting expectantly, timelessly, until the reunion should come. Could such a thought come true?
Closer. She was very near now. A small fox of a Siberian stirred and climbed to her feet. She was dwarfed by a grey giant who had pushed to the front of the crowd. They shared a question, “Who will lead for the mistress?”
The answer came as a massive paw extended and flexed. Tawny fur rippled as the dog stretched and shook off decades of sleep. The mistress’s first lead dog would be her leader now.
The great dog went to stand far ahead of a grey weathered sled. Slowly, tentatively, the multitude found their places. The legend was coming alive. A promise was being kept.
A chubby, clownish face turned to look back. It split in the trademark Husky grin. All stood ready. She was here.
The mistress stepped across the threshold and paused. Her breath caught. Her heart thumped a last beat. The scene cleared before her eyes as years fell away from her eyes, body. It was true – all as it had been foretold.
A team of a thousand strong stood before her. Sled dogs of every description…each a well loved friend eager to be away, to race down the trail. A querying bark from the golden dog in the lead broke her reverie. She smiled. With the swift, free motion of a youth, she stepped upon the runners and placed her hand on the driving bow. Team, sled and driver sprang ahead and vanished in a flurry of snowflakes and wind rush. Godspeed.
Like a mist, consciousness drifted over the drowsy group. Here and there a muzzle lifted so the owner could scent-scan the air. A dozen pairs of ears swiveled, then pricked. She was coming. One by one, they sensed her approach.
A heavy tail thumped as a Malamute gazed down the starry path. It had been a long time for him, this waiting. No matter, the feel of her caress was fresh and unfaded. He had slumbered for over forty years, paws twitching, dreaming of her arrival and of dashes over mountain trails. He never knew when his breath had frozen mid-dream. He had just continued his sleepy vigil.
“She comes.” The knowledge passed from dog to dog. A shaggy form rose and yawned. How many steps had he taken at her side – through busy, happy years, through lean and bitter years? Nearby, a nervous whine escaped the wolfish throat of a more anxious creature.
A shifting of weight from paw to paw betrayed the restlessness of the show dog. His immaculate coat showed no rumpling from his long repose. Beside him, a little bitch crept forward to peer between the shoulders of those in front of her.
Across the broad expanse, dogs were rising, throwing off the effects of their deep slumber. Ice crystals from New England, the Rockies, Alaska, the Arctic and Antarctica were flung into the air to mingle and fall with a minute tinkling sound.
They all knew she had loved them. The unchangeable law that a dog’s life is of short duration compared to a man’s had doomed her to countless partings. Her dogs would be waiting, the old timers said, to pull her sled through Eternity. The mushers’ legend had comforted her and, years later when she was frail and aged, she would think of her dogs resting expectantly, timelessly, until the reunion should come. Could such a thought come true?
Closer. She was very near now. A small fox of a Siberian stirred and climbed to her feet. She was dwarfed by a grey giant who had pushed to the front of the crowd. They shared a question, “Who will lead for the mistress?”
The answer came as a massive paw extended and flexed. Tawny fur rippled as the dog stretched and shook off decades of sleep. The mistress’s first lead dog would be her leader now.
The great dog went to stand far ahead of a grey weathered sled. Slowly, tentatively, the multitude found their places. The legend was coming alive. A promise was being kept.
A chubby, clownish face turned to look back. It split in the trademark Husky grin. All stood ready. She was here.
The mistress stepped across the threshold and paused. Her breath caught. Her heart thumped a last beat. The scene cleared before her eyes as years fell away from her eyes, body. It was true – all as it had been foretold.
A team of a thousand strong stood before her. Sled dogs of every description…each a well loved friend eager to be away, to race down the trail. A querying bark from the golden dog in the lead broke her reverie. She smiled. With the swift, free motion of a youth, she stepped upon the runners and placed her hand on the driving bow. Team, sled and driver sprang ahead and vanished in a flurry of snowflakes and wind rush. Godspeed.
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