She crawled out of the cage in the back of the rescue van, put her paws down cautiously, her tail and rear tucked under. They had found her wandering loose in Walla Walla and took her to the pound. Her person didn’t come for her. Then they did an operation and took part of her away. Susan found her and took her to a pack of orphan dogs, but she had to stay by herself because she was still sore. She knew the pack was called “Moon Song” and that it was ok to sing. She sang her sorrow in mournful howls night after night.
And now here she was stepping into a forest. At first she was tentative, looking around, nose in the air recording the myriad scents—rodents, squirrels, deer, coyote, bear…Then a wildness took her and she wanted to run—leaping and pulling on the leash with a woman named Gwendolyn hanging on. Almost immediately she met a handsome white dog who told her he was a Jindo, National Dog of South Korea, and King of this place.
Then ensued a dialogue. He said: “You can visit but not stay.” She said: “I am staying. “
He said: “You are not. My house, my person, my bone.” She said: “My home too. Move over.”
He said: “No. my house, my person, my bone.”
It was tooth and nail for awhile. She had to have stitches in her eyebrow. Gwendolyn would throw her in one room and the King in another, and collapse on the couch, praying— I will give it two weeks, she thought, before I make the 8 hour drive to Eastern Washington Husky Rescue. The thing was, they were equals, both dominant, neither submissive. It has been 4 years now. Occasionally, they still snap and argue but mostly because they like the spark. She has found that she is Queen. As she saunters by the Jindo, you can almost hear her say “I live here!” And once in a while, she surprises him with a kiss.