Durant Diary: Entry #10

Durant is a four-time Iditarod dog. He ran the race just last March – a thousand miles across Alaska’s mountains, plains, and Bering Sea ice. That’s him in the middle. That look on his face is elation. We see it sometimes at the dog park when we first get through the gate and he takes off loping. A big grin, especially if there’s snow like there was today, and it is very cold.

Lately, he’s not wanted to come in from the yard even if it’s dark and the temperature’s dropped. He approaches the back porch, looks up at me, and then turns tail to trot back into the trees or into one of the two doghouses in our dog yard. There’s straw out there – in the doghouses and strewn about – so it probably reminds him of the Iditarod trail.

This morning, I asked him if he was homesick.

At night, Durant sleeps on the floor next to my side of the bed. The window is open no matter the weather and sometimes he sniffs the cold air before settling down. I love him for this and for many other reasons. I also understand about giving up being one thing to become another without really knowing what the new thing is. I’ve done that for decades. I’m doing it now.

We have our joy and melancholy in common, me and Durant.