At 11:10 p.m. on September 22nd 2014 Iceman crossed the Rainbow Bridge. Perhaps as you are reading this, he is, even now, chasing tennis balls in God’s backyard, once again free of arthritis and ailments. The Alaskans among us suspect when huskies die that their souls and voices blend into the Northern Lights, racing across the skies, twisting and turning in perfect harmony disguised in colors of unimaginable beauty as they look down on the lands their ancestors once roamed.
I had gone to the store, and upon my return, he did not come to greet me. He had curled up in his dog house by the backdoor and made no attempt to get up when I tried to coax him out. Being a two piece plastic dog house, I unsnapped the top and lifted it off. He still made no effort to get up, but was aware of my presence. So I drug the bottom half, with him in it, into the kitchen. Later, I pulled it to the living room beside the couch where he normally spent his evenings. Occasionally he would raise his head and whimper and I’d pat his head to reassure him I was still there for him. The other dogs kept a close, but silent, watch. At 11:10 he passed peacefully, surrounded by those who had cared for him during the last month of his life.
I had been the transporter, assigned to bring the latest ‘drop off’ back to the Sanctuary after his surgery to remove 2 large tumors from his elderly, emaciated body. I just couldn’t do it. Elderly dogs need extra TLC and so my husband and I brought him to our house instead. In the short while he was with us, he had 4 good meals a day and was gaining weight. The other dogs accepted him immediately. He appeared a little stronger each day, wandering around our fenced backyard, admiring the chickens and watching as we worked in the garden or went in and out the garage. In the late evenings, he came in the house with the other dogs and slept on the living room floor as I watched TV or checked email. At bedtime (last potty call for the dogs) he went back outside to his dog house by the back door. His thick husky coat preferred the cool night air.
It was hard to see him pass, but knowing that if some caring individual had not picked up the elderly stray and brought him to the Sanctuary that he would have starved to death unnoticed in a ditch somewhere, instead of in my living room, made it easier. Rest in peace Iceman. For a short while, you were loved.