- Sep 30, 2006
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Recent snow flurries in Seattle triggered memories of my childhood in Fairbanks, Alaska.
A group of kids were each gifted with a puppy from a litter of Alaskan Huskies , which were all named "King" by their new owners--- except that mine was the only female, so I had to name her, "Queenie," to the constant delight of my friends. This teasing went on until, as we shall see, Queenie became famous in Alaskan lore.
Queenie and I were romping through the backyard snow drifts which towered over us, when Queenie spotted a snow-shoe rabbit in the neighbor's yard. It was sitting so still I couldn't actually see it, and it wasn't until we crept closer, that I saw it had been caught in a leg-trap. While releasing it, I was nipped a couple of times, but it was finally able to hobble away,
After this incident, I always introduced Queenie as the "dog of the hare that bit me."
@petrusbroder --- Stop me before I pun again!
A group of kids were each gifted with a puppy from a litter of Alaskan Huskies , which were all named "King" by their new owners--- except that mine was the only female, so I had to name her, "Queenie," to the constant delight of my friends. This teasing went on until, as we shall see, Queenie became famous in Alaskan lore.
Queenie and I were romping through the backyard snow drifts which towered over us, when Queenie spotted a snow-shoe rabbit in the neighbor's yard. It was sitting so still I couldn't actually see it, and it wasn't until we crept closer, that I saw it had been caught in a leg-trap. While releasing it, I was nipped a couple of times, but it was finally able to hobble away,
After this incident, I always introduced Queenie as the "dog of the hare that bit me."
@petrusbroder --- Stop me before I pun again!
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