Knuckle

Vital

Mettle

Spank

Pirate

Frank

Hot Dog

Panzer

Rocker

Backbone
Backbone was an even sized sibling to his brother Know-How.

Know How
Know-How was an even sized sibling to his brother Backbone. Both were tough dogs.

Piston
Piston was the dog god. Quiet and gentle out of his harness, at work he was a ferocious puller. Magnificent looking Piston took up the wheel position directly in front of my sled. Paired alongside Bomber they made a formidably powerful pair. Piston was one of three siblings I had from Pond Inlet, originally bought from an Inuit gentleman by the name of Panuele Okango.

Saxon
Saxon was anvil-hard, my boss dog and led in tandem with Thule. His father was eaten alive by a wolf pack. Specific aspects of his character I loved, others I did not. To other dogs he could be thug like. There was no fuss with Saxon, he would never tolerate less than maximum effort. He was a champion feeder and I never knew him to leave food or anything resembling it. His winter coat was magnificent, over twenty-two centimetres deep at it’s thickest he reminded me of a proud lion. With me Saxon loved to play and be groomed. I loved this dog as if he was human.

Thule
Thule was physically and mentally very strong and held down a position very few dogs thrive on. As the only pup of a litter she was used to plenty of attention and relished responsibility. That said she had her bad days. These were moments when Thule loved to push her luck and had me eating my fists.

Nettle
Nettle was a dominant bitch. Between them, Nettle and Thule clashed once in a while for top bitch supremacy. Nettle was Saxon’s girl. Bred by eastern Arctic Igloolik hunter Natalino Piugatuq.

Marshall
Piston’s brother, Marshall was another dog with a huge appetite for work. At forty below zero his slathering dribble would freeze like icicle fangs.

Twizzle
Twizzle would get himself into an awful mess and reminded me of a little boy being where he shouldn’t be with a catapult hanging out of his pocket. As a puppy Twizzle was attacked by wolves while still on his mother’s milk, he never forgot this and always became anxious crossing wolf trails. He had the blackest of faces that made it difficult to distinguish his eyes. He reminded me of Guy the Gorilla, a famous attraction at London Zoo when I was a kid.

Blitz
2004 whelp, I named him after the World War Two Panzer tank strategy Blitzkrieg, devised by German Field Marshall Erwin Rommel. His serious panda like face markings didn’t reflect his affectionate little ways. He would happily sit close next to me watching the world pass by.

Bomber (neutered)
I named Bomber after my father’s six successful books about World War Two RAF fighter pilots and bomber crews. These brave men saved the world from swastika domination and I’m proud Dad recorded their stories. More information about my Dad’s books at www.grubstreet.co.uk Bomber was very affectionate, loved to play and be close. He had a wise kind fatherly quality and I talked to him a lot.

Cream
Cream was my only dog to survive the March 2006 accident. He’s a sibling to Piston and Marshall. He’s an emotionally very distant dog but has a beautiful dense creamy plume like tail that pendulum bobs when he runs. I never felt sure about his mood. He just wants to be left alone to pull. I re-located Cream since no dogs born below the Greenland’s Arctic Circle are allowed in.

Beef
Beef came back from a 2005 North Pole journey with a torn ear that left it folded. Breed purists not especially interested in keeping the breed’s working talents alive would have pointed fingers. Ears in the breed should point erect like horns of the devil. Beef didn’t care less his didn’t. Nor did I. He was a lovely big dog with a heart of gold.