God blessed me by allowing me to share the lives of eight dogs during my five-plus decades of life. These dogs were with us from puppies to their natural deaths. Most died from old age. A husky died from a stroke. A Malamute died fin pain from a flipped stomach, and two we euthanized when their cancer pain was too great for them to move. Those lives have shaped my character with their love and loyalty. The bonds with these dogs are so remarkable that I still celebrate their birthdays and mourn the anniversaries of their deaths. March, April, and May are tough months. In April, Amber, our bear of an Alaskan malamute, died of cancer. We miss her chocolate eyes and mounds of “premium” fur.
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April was a particularly bad month that included the passing of my beloved Skye, our blue-eyed Husky, who shared so much love and Husky energy with us.

Spring has come to involve so much sadness for me that I sought solace in my writing this month to change my way of thinking about their deaths. Below is a poem I found that puts some purpose to my sorrow. God chooses those to be guardians and teachers of His dogs. There is a particular purpose to being a dog lover.

During the purchase of my first pet-store Boxer in Mexico City, it occurred to me that this puppy’s life would be so short and that I had been chosen to be a dog lover. I vowed to make that Boxer’s life special. His name was Tiger. During that first encounter in that pet store, I realized dogs came to me as their friend. The pet-store owner brought out the entire litter of eight Boxer puppies. They’d been in their cage so long; they were learning to walk. Tiger staggered over to my father’s shoe and shit on it. “That’s the one I want, “I shouted. Tiger became my best friend. I spent every available minute with him. I was a lonely, frightened pre-teen in a foreign land. Tiger became my first and only friend until I found sports and teammates. He gave his life of love to me while guarding my family. Tiger lived a long and blessed life of fourteen years before passing from a heart attack in October: another difficult month which includes the anniversary of my father’s death/murder. The freezing weather and frost of October also bring the memory of lying in our backyard hugging our second Malamute, Cala, as her old body failed before she passed.

My wife and I have shared our home with four Alaskan Malamutes and a Siberian husky. We had dogs before children. My son was raised by two Alaskan Malamutes, Cala and Sergeant Preston (cousins). Each new puppy came to me to show they’d made their choice.

I was seated on a Husky breeder’s floor about a year after our 150-pound Malamute, Hana (Amber’s sister), passed from cancer. I hadn’t picked a Husky from the swarming litter when a blue-eyed puppy curled up in my lap to gnaw my fingers.

“ That’s the one I want!” I told my wife. We named that Husky Skye for the sky-blue eyes. My wife was frightened by Skye’s icy glare but became overwhelmed by the puppy’s love and energy. Skye was blessed by our joining as well. By the age of three, her power had torn out her back knee joints, requiring $10 000 in surgical repair. Most owners would have put her down. We had the surgery done and nursed her back to health. She’s rewarded us with years of unconditional love, laughter, and stress relief. Staring into those icy orbs is like looking into the eyes of an angel. It just brings me happiness and peace. Skye’s non-stop Husky energy and playfulness brings us life during these depressing times.