Far North Rambles #30: Just Two Dogs
In more than one community, we listened to discussions about experiences people had with spirits. Those discussions always caused me to reflect. The people sharing their experiences were rational and were just like you and me, except they had a gift to see or feel things that I could not.
In one Far North community, in the homeland of Sachigo Lake First Nation, we walked around town after we finished our official business. We met some community men working on a house roof. We asked if it was acceptable to cross the bridge to visit the cemetery to pay our respects. They all said “absolutely” and they encouraged us to walk around the community as well.
There were many wildflowers growing in the cemetery. To compose the wildflower photos I had in mind, I laid down on the ground to capture the flower’s view of the world. Out of nowhere, a blond, long-haired dog appeared. The dog was happy, friendly, and playful. It jumped and ran around with enthusiasm when it saw me lying on the ground. Clearly, lying on the ground was an invitation to the dog to play. It threw its head around as it ran up and then ran back as playful dogs do. So much energy to share. It was hard to compose any photo because the dog was jumping on me as I lay on the ground. When we finished with the photos, I stood up, the dog continued to jump and run around, and we walked towards the bridge back to the community.
As we walked through the community, we noticed that the blond dog was nowhere to be seen. It had not crossed the cemetery bridge with us. But, within a few minutes, we were joined by another dog. It had long, dark fur like a silver fox, but it was much bigger than a fox. It was well kept and was hulky. It followed us, but always from a distance. It was not threatening. It would not play. It just followed and watched us. Its ears were up and alert. It watched us with a “side-wise look”, out of the corner of its eye. It stayed with us through the community. It stayed with us as we started to walk back to the hotel, which was about 1 km away, out by the airport.
Rather than walk along the main gravel airport road, we took a small, side road to see where it went. The dark dog followed, but always at a distance, slinking quietly in and out of the bush, always watching us. Close to the hotel, the side road joined the main road. We paused and noticed that the dark dog was gone. It just quietly disappeared without a sound.
That evening, we met another person in the hotel. He was working in the community. We shared our respective experiences about communities we had visited and the people we mutually knew. We shared the dog story because it struck us as being odd - not threatening - just odd. The hotel guest quietly said “you just met two spirits - one of a playful child and one of a worrier, who was watching over his community.” Then he said, “it is late. I am off to bed.” We sat quietly in the hotel TV room and mused “that was different.”
Maybe the hotel guest shared his spirit comment to make us worried. Maybe he said that to discourage us from walking around the community. No, he wouldn’t do that. We sensed his honesty and he had been open with us all evening.
Had we really just encountered two different spirits - one of a child and one of a worrier? Or were they just two two dogs with two very different personalities?
Dog image: That was Blue. Blue was a “rez dog” who lived under the back door landing at the Fort Hope Inn (Eabametoong First Nation). The story above did not take place in Fort Hope and did not star Blue. Blue was a gentle, friendly dog. He was cared for and ate well from kitchen scraps provided by the staff and guests who stayed at the Inn. Photo composed July 22, 2002.
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Andy Fyon, Nov. 16, 2020 (Facebook Aug. 21, 2020)