by Kim Watson

We rescued Mountain Laurel Sitka, a four-year-old Chinook, from Rick Skoglund's over-stuffed couch on November 7, 1998.

Well that isn't entirely true-my emotional mission to rescue him started on that date. Rick had graciously invited our family to visit the Perry Greene Kennel on numerous occasions. After many cancellations on our part we finally made a date we could keep. The children were so filled with anticipation. Rick had sent out much information, and the kids couldn't wait to see Chinook's original
harness, the Chinook cemetery, and all the other wonderful historical artifacts attached to the Kennel. They also heard a rumor that we might be buying a dog sled that day (not that we knew what on earth to do with one!)

After meeting Rick and all the dogs we started our tour. The dogs were lounging in the house because of the bad weather. One dog immediately stuck out to me. Sitka greeted us as all the other dogs did, but didn't settle back down into his spot on the couch. He scooped us out and realized I was the alpha of our household when it came to emotional decisions. He never left our sides, following us everywhere, rolling upside down for a belly rub every chance he got. We followed Rick upstairs on a narrow staircase, to a room where he keeps a lot of old newsclippings, precisely organized. Rick looked back and Sitka was following us up the stairs. "Stay," he said. Sitka followed. Rick turned to me and said, "He's such a sneak and thief, he steals my doritos all the time off the couch." Back downstairs, outside in the rain, in the kennel, Stika followed.

After a long visit, it was time to leave. Rick was busy loading the kids up with hats, shirts and signs. I had been throwing comments to my husband, Frank, all morning about how wonderful I thought Sitka was, with nothing more than a nod of agreement. He knew me well, and could see what I was getting at. "Frank, can we please take him home until Rick places him permanently?" I asked. A firm no was all I got in response. That's when my two-year-old tantrum started. "You're so mean, he's so cute, look how loving he is!!" Frank
stared at me for a long time, and finally said, ":I can't believe I'm saying yes." We had all seen Sitka's personality, and it was similar to Frank's-laid back, easy going, and I could tell he thought he was great too. I ran over to Rick with my proposal; just watch Sitka until he is placed. Rick was warm but put me in my place. He told me Sitka was happy and fine where he was until he gets placed. He knew I had no intention of "baby-sitting" and started a long, laundry list of realistic reasons for not taking him. Three dogs is a lot of work, he's
a sneak with food, on and on. I felt comfortable enough with Rick to start pouting at him too. Rick and Frank exchanged glances. "Have a nice ride home, Rick was eyeing to Frank. "Great, thanks a lot," Frank eyed back. We said our thank you's, and my empty heart drove away. I couldn't sleep, thinking of poor Sitka stuck on that comfortable couch eating Doritos. I called Rick a few days later, and begged him to let us take Sitka on a trial basis.

I knew Rick was well aware that I didn't have much dog expertise based on the numerous stupid questions I've asked him about raising dogs. However, I think he saw a quality worth of Chinook ownership-a loving family. Using common sense that applies to all aspects of successful parting, Rick probably saw we were responsible enough to accept the challenge of a third dog. Sitka is not what one would consider a rescue dog. I don't know the circumstances that brought him to Perry Greene Kennel, and I don't feel that it is any of our
business. I took great comfort in the fact that the CDCA Rescue carefully places dogs with new owners, and would never compromise a family's safety. Rick also knew me well enough to see I was completely neurotic with safety issues. He dropped Sitka off at our house and with a heavy sigh gave Sitka a hug, turned to me and said "Call me."

All of a sudden there was total calmness. "Calmness before the storm?" I wondered. No, the dogs' true colors were shining right through. Calmness from unconditional love, quietly filling the room. Staring at three dogs getting along fine it hit me that this was for sure a permanent situation. All my children love the dogs, but Katie had long ago pronounced Tia "her dog", Frankie had always been the child most bonded with Windsong, and Matthew, my easy going child was lying upside on the floor bonding with Sitka. Some people were concerned that bringing an older dog into our household would be an unfair challenge to the calmness we had developed already. Trusting an older dog is hard to do, breaking old habits is not easy, keeping everyone "safe" is always an issue. I was told a rescue dog can take from one month to a year to show its true colors. My lack of dog rearing was offset in my mind by my confidence as a parent. I wasn't scared at all.

The gift of Sitka becoming part of our lives is something we all treasure and value. I have often thought about what our contribution to the Chinook breed could be since we are such dog novices. I have never seen a withering stick, never mind used one. I don't know the first thing about conformation, breeding, or most topics discussed by Chinook breeders and owners. I have learned quickly how Chinook politics are very emotional-so was our decision to add Stika to our family. I realize a contribution we might be making (for now) without really noticing is to show people that we have three dogs from two very different Chinook worlds that show no prejudice, are completely honest and open, have learned to tolerate each other through good and bad, and practice fairness and respect to all in the household. Like our children our Chinooks are unconditional with their love. Their true colors shine right through. It's a good feeling.