in New York
October 8th, 2008
Northern Scandinavia is cold. Cold for many things to survive. Cold for cats, birds, even trees. But for the smiling dog, this is just an understatment. Some call us samoyeds, others may call us ice wolves, but our smiles are what give us our best nickname.
No one knows why we smile. We have no reason to, we live in the most bitter cold you can imagine, and we barely survive on enough food, we just smile, never breaking from it.
My name is Nissa, only one of the smiling dogs in our wild pack. I'm only a meer pup, but I am the sister of the pack leader, Rikard. His name means brave and strong. And he is. He's built like a warrior. One day, I too will be pack leader, but only if my bitter sister, Mia, doesn't beat me to the act. Mia is beautiful. Her fur is pure white, eyes chocolate brown, and her paws are so dainty, they easily freeze in the snow. Sometimes I think that's how she became so cold at the heart.
Our pack consists of 7 dogs total:
Adults:
Leader: Rikard, Rikard's Mate: Ylwa, Elder: Ragnar, Queen: Quinby,
Pups:
Me, Mia, Thoralf
Thoralf is my younger brother, a newborn. There were 3 more pups, but they were taken away by humans 11 moons ago. Some say that the humans either make coats out of them, use them to herd reindeer, or train them to sled. It's actually better for the pack that 3 pups no longer need to be taken care of, which means more elk for the rest of us.
See more stories by Sara
