Tuesday, November 27, 2007

The Three

Sailor here.

My Mom was sad today. One of her friends who is a musher is even sadder. Three of her Siberian huskies who are sled dogs went to the Rainbow Bridge all on the same day but from different illnesses. The three are sisters and were raised from puppyhood to pull a dogsled. All three Siberians were leaders, although one was the leader’s leader.

When HissSpit died, Mom told me the story of Rainbow Bridge and Zoe told me about North of the Rainbow Bridge, the place to which all Northern Breeds go to await their loved ones who are still here on Earth. I am comforted. I can picture the Three Sisters frolicking in the ice and snow, chasing lemmings and running with the wind, happy and whole again.

Mom wrote a tribute to these three and here it is:


They stand immobile, North of the Rainbow Bridge, The Three. White flakes fall lightly, coating their fur with the down of this, their first celestial snowfall. Three breaths form white clouds, mingling in the frosty air. All is silence. All is peace.

“East,” the land whispers, “east.”

East is the direction that all huskies, given the choice, will face as their time on Earth draws to a close and they prepare for the last great journey. East is the Sun. East is The Beginning.

In unison, The Three wheel to the East, all senses alert to the next grand adventure. Leaving her sisters behind, The One picks her way gingerly up a short rise. Her footprints, almost unseen, tell the others the direction to follow. Standing abreast now, ears forward, bodies quivering in anticipation, The Three survey the frozen North that beckons them and bids them welcome.

Eagerly, first The One, then the others begin to trot. Down the hill, across the ice-flown river they sweep. Coats dusted with the snow of another world, they fall by habit into the pattern of their days on Earth. The One is in front, the Sisters, close behind, jogging side by side. Joyously, they pick up speed, their trot lengthens to a lope and then, suddenly, like a flight of startled ptarmigans, The Three are off, sprinting through the white powder. The winter trail magically opens up before them as they fly through the snow. Agile, strong, young again, with tongues lolling, and grins wide enough to be seen in Heaven, The Three speed, as if on wings, into Eternity.

They are home.

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