Introducing: Chann

Finding Chann, my most recent Alaskan Malamute, was relatively easy.

Late last year, I reached out to Conall’s breeder. I wanted another Conall, a Malamute with his temperament, athleticism, and smarts. The breeder was expecting a litter in December, but after agreeing with her that trying to transfer a puppy from Colorado to Vermont in winter wouldn’t be fun or wise, I waited for her son’s dog to produce a springtime litter. On May 11, eight puppies arrived. I was able to choose among three males, and decided on the one with a “lightning bolt” blaze of white on his forehead. A black and white Malamute, he has a distinctive mask.

The logistics of transporting a puppy on an airline, in the passenger section, from Denver to Boston were a lesson in perseverance and patience. The breeder hadn’t done it before. We learned.

But the bigger question: who would actually fly with Chann? I knew I shouldn’t. I still had significant leg pain when sitting on any traditional chair for more than five minutes (a sacroiliac joint issue for which I finally received treatment a few days ago). Hours of flying, moving around airports, an overnight in Denver, finding care for Conall and Finn while I was away… it was all so much. I hate acknowledging any weakness in myself, but I wasn’t sure I could deal with that much pain for so many hours on end.

Hmm. I wonder if any of my friends might enjoy flying with a puppy, visiting Vermont? I posted on my personal Facebook page that I was looking for a puppy transporter in early July, an all-expenses-paid trip to Vermont and back. To my surprise, five different friends living in the Seattle area offered to do it, or act as backup. Amazing.

My friend and former trail running partner, Suzanne, was the best option. She’s airport/travel savvy, loves dogs, has a positive, get-it-done attitude, a wonderful sense of humor, and a flexible schedule. Together we settled on a travel itinerary and airlines (Seattle-Denver; Denver-Boston; Boston-Seattle), and made reservations. I would make the 3.5-hour drive from my home in Vermont to Boston/Logan Airport to pick them up. Suzanne planned to stay for three nights, then I’d take her back to Logan to fly to Seattle. I wasn’t excited about all that driving, but it would bring Chann home to me.

Chann was driven from his original home in Colorado’s mountains to Denver and handed off to Suzanne at her hotel on Friday evening, July 7th. Suzanne texted photos, saying he was adorable, clingy, and food-obsessed. Suzanne was prepared with pee pads and poop bags, but because he peed so frequently, she slept on the floor with him. Waking up early Saturday morning to get to the airport, Suzanne texted a selfie, her on the floor, Chann still asleep beside her head.

I purchased a pet carrier that met the airline’s specifications. Suzanne said the only issue in Denver was going through security. When Chann was sent through separately, he started crying. A TSA worker told Suzanne the airline might not let her on the plane if he kept that up. He didn’t. As long as he was near Suzanne, he was calm.

About the same time Suzanne and Chann lifted off from Denver Airport for their four-hour flight to Logan Airport, I started driving toward Boston. My car started acting up a week earlier, struggling on uphills, chugging and running rough. I worried it was the transmission, the used one I had installed when the original died shortly after I arrived in Vermont two years ago. I drove as little as possible the week before, bit down my stress, and hoped my car would make the entire round trip.

I made it to Logan, a bundle of nerves. I parked so I could meet Suzanne at baggage claim. When I neared the carousel, I saw Suzanne standing with Chann in her arms, carrier at her feet. My eyes teared up. As I got close, Suzanne sensed my presence. She turned and smiled. A big, excited smile. I didn’t even say hello to Suzanne as I drew near. I focused on Chann. I put my hand on his tiny fluffy head, and said, “Hello, Chann.” I felt overwhelmed, with relief they’d arrived safely, with gratitude for Suzanne’s willingness to take on this challenge, for the gift of Chann arriving in my life after what seemed an impossibly long wait.

Wordlessly – because we were both too choked up – Suzanne put Chann in my arms. I held him against my chest. So light! So small. And soft. Chann and I gazed into each other’s eyes. I rocked side to side with him snuggled there, inhaling his puppy breath. Other passengers waiting for their bags came up to meet him. Suzanne said Chann was very popular and did great greeting people.

While Suzanne waited for her luggage, I took Chann outside, figuring he needed to pee.

He did. He also pooped. Good boy!

***

It’s been eight years since I had a puppy in the house.

I’d forgotten how often an eight-week-old puppy pees and poops. Especially those first couple of weeks.

I’ve gone through lots of pee pads and Nature’s Miracle (a stain and odor remover, for when his aim isn’t true).

***

The first week with Chann was barely-controlled chaos.

Suzanne’s stay coincided with the worst rain and flash flooding Vermont has seen in a hundred years. Non-stop rain kept us all inside for most of her visit. The system that dumped up to 10 inches of rain in some places, and something like eight in my area, was referred to as a thousand-year storm. My little village, like so many others across the state, flooded, suffering significant damage to buildings, culverts, roads, and bridges. My house and road, high on a ridge, were unscathed. Luckily, on July 11th, the storm passed and I was able to drive Suzanne to Dartmouth, NH, where she caught a bus to Logan. We chose that option because I had even less confidence in my car than the day I picked her and Chann up. [It has since been repaired.]

Back home, it seemed neither Conall nor Finn wanted Chann in the house. I was surprised Conall was so growly and put out. He’s always been gentle and playful with puppies of friends or those we met in the big world. I was so sure he would welcome a puppy. I got Chann as much for Conall as for myself. Had I made a huge mistake?

But those other puppies Conall interacted with didn’t live in his house. Those puppies didn’t displace him in my bedroom at night. Those puppies didn’t suddenly reduce the amount of exercise and attention he got from me.

Finn’s reaction was as expected: a grumpy old-man dog, barking loudly (because he’s hard of hearing) if Chann got too close. It took Chann a day or two to realize Finn wasn’t kidding; he didn’t want to play.

After a few days, Conall did play with Chann, who quickly became Conall’s favorite chew toy. It was gratifying to see the transformation, in no small part because the way they play together reminds me so much of how Maia and Meadow played. Malamutes have a distinctive play style: open mouths displaying sharp teeth; lots of play growls; chomping on thick-furred necks; clacking teeth together; briefly pinning the other to the ground by the neck. I call it wrestling. To the uninitiated, it can look scary and a little angry. They know what they’re doing. No one gets hurt.

Finn has a different play style, preferring to herd, body slam, and chase. When Conall was a puppy, Finn would wrestle with him in Malamute style, something he’d observed Maia and Meadow do. After Conall reached adulthood, Finn quit wrestling with him. To get Finn to play, Conall gently nips him on his tail nubbin, which is the signal to start a game of chase. Somehow, they found a mix of their distinct play styles that has worked for them all these years. In recent months, though, Finn’s play energy has lessened significantly, leaving Conall without a playmate. I wondered if Conall even remembered how to play with another Malamute?

He remembers. It’s a joy for me to watch Conall wrestle with Chann. My instincts were good; Conall does enjoy having a puppy in the house.

Finn, not so much. And at 15.5 years of age, mostly deaf, it’s asking a lot of him to accept a high-energy puppy. I did see Finn in a play bow in front of Chann when we were all outside playing in the yard a couple days ago, but that was atypical. Mostly, Finn either wants Chann to keep his distance, or tries to referee when Chann and Conall wrestle. Thankfully, they all do fine on walks together, even when all three are on leash. Only in the enclosed space of the house does Finn have objections, and Chann, like most puppies, finds it fun to antagonize the oldster.

I discovered that a few drops of CBD oil on Finn’s kibble reduces his irritation toward Chann. It also reduces the volume of his “stay away!” barks. Things are now quieter and less stressful for all.

***

Chann is naturally exhibiting many of the Malamute traits I’ve come to know and love:

He loves meeting new people. Everyone is a friend.

When out walking in the fields, he goes as far as the eight-foot leash allows to pee or poop. No fouling the trail.

He doesn’t like to swim. He cautiously wades into the pond, copying the boys as they drink on a warm day, but only getting his paws wet. Once he stumbled down a bank and landed up to his belly in the pond; he quickly scurried up and away.

He’s a natural athlete. His first day here, Chann walked along a stack of 2x4s in the yard, like a gymnast on the balance beam. Within the next few days, he discovered the stairs leading to the loft bedroom. They’re bare wood. I worried he might slip and fall. He quickly mastered a hop-hop style of coming down the stairs, sounding like a deer running through the woods. He never slips or tumbles.

On his first outing in the fields the day after he arrived, Chann ran quite a distance while Suzanne held his leash and jogged behind him. Chann was determined to keep up with Conall and Finn. He clearly loves running and, whenever possible, taking the lead.

He’s a show off. The stairs were my first clue. Another: he enjoys taunting Finn in the yard by running full speed and a little clumsily right at him before veering away at the last moment.

He has a keen sense of smell. Unfortunately, that means he finds things like the dead frog in the yard to roll on.

He loves wild fruit. I have a couple blueberry shrubs and a bunch of raspberry canes along one edge of my yard. I should take better care of them, but I don’t; I just let them do their thing. The raspberries are overtaken by goldenrod and jewelweed plants, but do produce some berries. Chann quickly learned how to pick his own, low-hanging fruit.

Chann howls. For now, because he’s upset. For example, when I take Conall for a quick morning run, Chann’s secured in my bedroom, behind a baby gate. He’s quiet when we leave, thanks to a Kong filled with peanut butter, and it’s quiet when we get back, but as soon as he hears Conall and me come through the door, he starts howling. The first couple of times, Conall responded with his own howls. It will be fun to see if Chann howls at sirens, or airplanes (like Conall).

***

After three weeks, we’re all settling in. Finn is still wary, but better with the CBD oil. I often catch Chann sneaking close to Finn when Finn’s snoozing, curling up on the floor next to him. I’m certain Chann figures it’s just a matter of time before Finn succumbs to his animal magnetism.

I appreciate Conall’s ability to wear Chann out as they spend more time wrestling and chasing each other in the house and yard. House training in a work in progress, but there is progress. Chann is growing like a well-watered Vermont weed. I’m looking forward to taking him on longer walks with Conall as his strength and endurance grow. In the meantime, I make sure he meets as many people and kids as possible. It’s challenging, given I’m an introvert living in a rural area, but the reward is seeing the delight on the faces of the people he charms.

Suzanne wrote a few days after her return to Seattle: “Delivering Chann will be a highlight of my life. It was amazing to be part of such a special event in your life, but mostly just cool to hang out with a puppy. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

Puppies are a tremendous investment of time, energy, and money. But, as all of my previous dogs have proven to me, it’s an excellent investment that pays valuable daily dividends for years to come.

One of the early dividends: puppy breath. To me, it smells like freshly-brewed coffee, like the interior of a Starbucks.

Feature photo: Conall checking on Chann with a maple leaf in his mouth, July 11, 2023.