K9 Conservationists

Barley is snoring softly with his tongue poking out the front of his mouth. His warmth fills the nook behind my knees the way a river pours into a canyon. My calves and hamstrings give him shape, keep him from slipping right off the tiny cot. Perhaps he is liquid, …

From last time: We chatter as we clean up, ferrying gear back and forth and heating water to clean dishes. We are basking in the early morning sunlight, repeatedly remarking on the divine weather, when Michael hushes us. He points toward the head of the bay and hisses, “Wolf!” Conversation …

Barley’s paws are splayed out, his claws gripping the planks of the dock. He does not trust these sturdy planks, but he follows me reluctantly past gillnetters and boats piled high with crab pots. It is our first full day in Craig, Alaska, and we are going to take the …

We have been traveling for 56 hours. I am tired and stinky and buzzing with a nervous energy. Below the ferry deck in our laughably overloaded Ford Maverick, Barley is tucked between a cooler full of gear repair supplies and a pair of camp cots. His nest consists of two …