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From: misterk9@aol.com (Mister K9)
Subject: Ghost...Dog of the North...Adult g/d
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Ghost--Dog of the North                            Adult Situations
Girl/Dog 9/97
 
My dad was a New Zealander, proud and tough, my mother was a NA Inuit--I guess
that's why I have hybrid vigor, and the strength and stamina it takes to
survive in this land... My long dark hair offset my pretty features and
athletic figure, as I gazed at myself in the mirror--a pretty but petite young
girl of 19 years I really had little time for anything else but survival, and
most men I had met had not really interested me yet. It was a very cold
morning--the water bucket against the wall of my room in our humble cabin had
a thin skin of ice--"allapa" it was cold! I readied my gear for a trip out to
check my "subsistence trapping" lines and see if I could bag an Elk or a
Moose--the frozen meat I brought back would keep us going for a month or more.
My dad, a good bush pilot, was gone most of the time but my parents trusted my
survival skills and did not really worry when I was out on a hunt alone for
weeks at a time. 

Dad said "Fawn, I have a dog for you, he's an Inuit dog and knows how
to take care of himself". I don't really need one I replied--I work
faster alone. "I know" he said, "but the bears are worse now than
ever, the climate is getting warmer and the Polars and Grizzly bears
are moving south" OK ill have a look at him outside I replied.
Stepping out the door into the cold dry air towards my pack sled I
gasped to catch a breath--then I saw him standing against a snow bank,
he's to nice looking for a native dog I thought--most of them are
black and ugly looking. One third wolf, I suspected, he was white and
black with pale gray-blue eyes--and he stared right through me. Due to
the loveless code of the north, these dogs are not treated as pets, or
even given names, they sleep outside on the ice and eat frozen seal
meat or unborn baby seals--if they are lucky enough to get them. "Can
he harness I inquired through the open door?" "Sure can", said dad,
"he lead a team in the Ididerod open last spring". OK I thought, maybe
I will give him a try on this trip, and if things don't work out we
can take him back to the camp. 

Trying to keep warm I worked rapidly as I readied my gear--I mustn't
forget anything as that could be fatal I thought. I rigged the dog to
my pack sled with my  200lb of supplies plus his dry dog food, I
figured we could get the rest of our food en route. For hunting I took
a rifle, and a pump shotgun for bears--just in case. 

This time of year it stayed light most of the time, this far north of
the Arctic circle, on the northern slope Alaska's Brooks Range--too
cold and dry to snow much we made good progress, and I shared pulling
the sled on my skis just behind the dog. I didn't have to match his
pace as his four legs were shorter than mine and he provided a steady
but strong pull once we got underway. Hours later and close to my
first trapline I paused to look around.  A huge drift near a beaver
dam blocked my view. I snapped out of my bindings and climbed up and
over the drift with my dog on his chain. Grrrooowwl... I heard as I
saw him, a huge Polar-bear crouched down and chewing on what looked
like a bearded seal. Oh--Oh! I exclaimed, I knew surprising a bear was
one thing, but a feeding bear, well that was a disaster! My dog bolted
upright and standing five feet tall he growled furiously loud at the
bear till he hurt my ears. I pulled my bear gun and fumbled for a slug
from the pocket of my parka...my mind racing, I dropped the shell into
the open port and shucked it in...sshhclick! and I aimed for the bears
chest, just below the neck. My dog was pulling me so hard I could not
aim and I knew if I just wounded the bear I would be done for. My left
hand on the dogs chain I decided to quick release him so I could get a
clean shot. Like lightening my dog ran behind the bear and snapping at
his rear legs and avoiding his deadly claws, he worried him
savagely--"good dog I cried" then I heard another loud growl from the
nearby scrub fur trees. A large silver tip, probably hungry, had
wandered onto the scene! My dog stopped his attack on the Polar and
took after the Grizzly in earnest--they both just vanished into the
drifts making loud animal sounds.  Before I could move the great white
"Nanuk" slapped me to the ground and I thought my shoulder had
broken--I lay still playing dead. I could feel the bears hot foul
breath on my cheeks as he hovered over me. By some miracle he stopped
and began covering me with snow. He's not hungry now I thought, he
will cover me up and come back to eat me later I thought, as I fought
the urge to break and run. I lay still for what seemed like hours,
knowing it's just not possible to outrun a bear, then I felt a hot
tongue on my face--eyes closed I prayed the end would come quickly.   

Then I realized the tongue belonged to my sled dog! Not seriously
injured I rose to my knees and with gratitude gave my beautiful husky
a big hug--surprised at such abnormal human attention he just wined
and licked my face. I think you have at least earned a name I said,
not even thinking I said I will call you Ghost...yes, Ghost...dog of
the north. 

I gathered my gear and put on a new parka-shell as my down jacket had
been ripped open by the bear, and proceeded to make camp about a mile
upstream in a sheltered area. As I chained Ghost outside, I noticed
the weather was unseasonably warm and I feared an approaching storm. I
secured the tent with ice screws, climbed inside and lit my candle
lantern and stove, then I proceeded to melt ice. I made enough for
myself and some for Ghost, although he was used to eating snow and ice
I wanted to treat him special, after all he had just saved my life.
Soon the wind came then blowing snow and I crawled out to check the
tent anchors and feed and water my dog, he was curled up on the ice,
half buried in snow--I was freezing and thought how cold he must be
out there! After I fed him I decided to lengthen his chain so he could
shelter in the tent crawl space a bit out of the storm. My hands were
numb and I accidentally let go of him. Like a shot he crawled into the
tent as I chased after him. I found him comfortably dug into my
sleeping bag! No, get out I scolded, you're tracking in snow.  I
pushed on his back in an effort to dislodge him. He weighed almost 100
lb. and with all his dead weight and stubborn temperament I just
couldn't budge him. Tired and freezing I got my extra bag from the
sled pack and opened it flat covering him, then I quickly undressed
and got under it next to him for warmth. How wonderfully warm he is I
thought as I snuggled my frozen toes under his flank, this unsettled
Ghost a bit and he rolled on his back to give me a little more room.
This is strange I thought, "don't pamper your dogs the natives
say--you will spoil them--and you must never get attached to them".
Questioning this wisdom, I could see my policy of discipline and
distance had been cast to the winds. With all that heat and moisture
in our tent ice began to form on the roof, and the wind flapping the
tent caused it to slough of and rain down on my face, it was cold and
it stung me, so I buried my face in the thick luxurious fur on Ghost's
neck and very soon I was fast asleep.

The morning dawned crisp and clear, our tent had withstood the storm
which passed during the night, so I readied Ghost and my sled for
travel. I needed to find a Caribou or something soon for a supply of
fresh meat. Setting out north across an ice flow near shore we moved
swiftly. I was able to harvest one Caribou, a Moose and a bearded seal
that day and spent all day packing and drying the meat and
hides--nothing can be wasted out here, so I fed the scraps to Ghost as
he stood hungrily, but patiently buy as I worked. We camped there,
some distance away, as I knew that bears would smell my kill and come
in the night.  

I was right--awakened in the dim light of late evening by Ghost's
howls outside I grabbed my gun and jumped in my stiffly frozen snow
suit to poke my head outside. I saw the bears shadow and that of Ghost
standing tall outside on his chain leash, huge and ominous. Ghost
doesn't have a chance chained like that, I thought as I reached for a
road flare. Striking the cap I gagged as the acrid sulfur smoke of the
flare choked me. Tossing the flare quickly it rolled under the upright
"Nanuk" and to my surprised he grabbed it with his mouth--Ouch! We
were lucky I guess, between my flare tossing and Ghosts demoniac howls
this bear gate off to lick his wounds. Still shaken I went outside and
gave Ghost a hug and tried to explain how much I had grown to love him
during the brief time we had shared together. I think he really
understood my affection for him. All this polar-bear stuff was just
fun to him I began to think! It was time to move out again.

Over the next five days I checked my trap lines, got another Caribou
and then decided to head home. I decided to cross the ice going back
as it was quicker, although a bit risky this time of year. Once, when
I was blinded during a whiteout storm, Ghost acted as my "seeing eye
dog". Although I was 100 meters or so from the tent I could never have
found it in those conditions without him. He had saved my life again. 

That night in the tent, as the storm raged outside and feeling safer
and more secure when Ghost was close to me, I  decided to let him
inside. He looked magnificent as he lay stretched out next to me in
the flicker of the candle lantern--he must be very lonely I
thought--but it's the way all those dogs live. I wanted to reward him
for his faithfulness and trust and began to look at him as I would a
man, at least as a man that I felt I could give my love. 

Restless and cold in my own sleeping bag I decided I wanted him, but I
was not sure if he would want me--I mean he was still just a dog after
all.  I don't wear anything while in a down sleeping bag, that makes
you colder, so kneeling part way out of the bag liner I stretched out
to reach my pack in the corner of the tent, my breasts and nipples
were firm and tender, not so much from the cold as from what I was
thinking...If I could just get on my back with the pack under my hips
maybe I could coax...I stopped short as Ghost, getting up quickly, was
probing my rear with his cold nose--he began licking me! This isn't
going to be as difficult as I thought-- looks like they were right,
Ghost knew how to "take care of himself" and me I giggled with
delight. 

If it had not been so brutally cold I could have stayed like that
forever as he worked his tongue into my pussy. I let him mount me from
the front and with one hand tried to guide his stabbing member into
me, but he growled a warning, so I let him go and scooted a bit more
under him. As soon as his hot tip found my pussy lips and peeked
inside then nature took over, I had watched dogs "do it" before as a
giggling young schoolgirl, and I knew he would not disappoint me now!
We made love for what seemed like an hour, his throbbing doggie-cock
filled me to the point I thought I might burst--he hurt just a bit at
first, but then all I felt was wave after wave of pleasure as I came
again and again.


Suddenly his pressure went down and he rolled off my chest and out of
me with a "plop" and then immediately began licking me till I
screamed--no one can hear or see what we do out here I thought. I
looked at his huge member hanging down in front of me from the sheath
and thought "my God he is huge" I couldn't believe all that had been
inside me. 

The storm raged for seven days and nights but I didn't really care.
With plenty of supplies, Ghost and my books for company, I could have
bivouacked there forever. The eighth day brought good weather, warmer
and no wind, "time to go home" I called to Ghost and he eagerly let me
harness him. We moved swiftly over the ice pack toward the tundra and
home.

Crrraaacckk........ I heard the death sound that meant only one
thing--bad ice!  For safety I took Ghost off the sled and headed out
cautiously to find a safe place to cross with the sled.

Pop..Pop..Crracckk... the pack had broken and tilted to a dangerous
angle--I slid toward my death in the cold black water...Gasp!...the
cold shock pushed the air out of my lungs as I was immersed up to my
waist in the icy water. I could dig in one of my ski poles to stay
partially on the ice but I could not even scream. Ghost, knowing I was
in trouble, grabbed my nylon pack strap and with a savage pull he
pulled me out and onto the tilting ice and I scrambled toward safety. 

I jumped the four foot wide gap rapidly forming between me and the
snow pack and scrambled to the sled. I had heard great stories like
this about these Inuit Husky dogs before, but now I knew first hand
they were true!

I turned to call Ghost but to my horror he was no where to be seen.
No! No no...I cried, as I dashed around behind the break totally
ignoring the danger.  I looked for a time but knew if I did not change
my suit quickly the wild north would claim me next. The cold, and
sometimes cruel, north had spawned my beloved Husky and given me a
brief chance to experience his love--now it had taken him from me
forever...I dropped to my knees on the snow covered ice and I cried
.....
 
Author -- Mr_K9

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