By Bob Spiwak
For many years, through five owners of the Mazama Store, I have annually made a calendar for the employees. Almost all the calendars have had some relationship to the area, at times with a theme such as cows, horses, scenics and so forth. This year’s is entitled “Dogs of the Mazama Store,” honoring canines past and present who have been regulars. Some are daily locals, some sporadic. Others come with out-of-town homeowners whose pets have exhibited some special relationship to the denizens of the SLIME group, usually doggie treats.
Jay Lucas’ golden retriever Ginger was the most regular. She died earlier this year after a decade or so of entertaining the old guys hanging out on the deck. I have had three such entertaining dogs, with nowhere near the regularity of Ginger, but probably a close second. So when looking for photos for the calendar, our malamute Nitchka stood out — in size, if not intellect.
I had always wanted a malamute — call of the wild and all that, and a great hound to hitch to a sled. So, when a female un-papered purebred was available for a low price I got her. The name came from a map of Alaska.
Her first portrait was her peeking from the top of a pair of Salomon leather boots. Remember the 5-pound waffle-stompers? Nitchka fit in the shoe perfectly. But not for long, ultimately reaching 90 pounds standing taller than my knees.
Prior to her acquisition, I spoke with some “mal” owners, most of whom urged that I change my mind. Descriptions ranged from “jughead” to loving, but in every case emerged words like “stubborn” and “mind of their own” — how true they were.
Nitchka was gentle as a lamb. Another photo shows her lying next to a miniature Holland Lop rabbit my wife was raising. They both seem to be napping. The entire bunny was not even the size of the dog’s head.
Training her was a chore, as predicted by other owners. Nitchka was friendly to everyone and I don’t remember her ever chasing a squirrel or other animal. She played with an itinerant deer that would come to visit, taking turns as to who was chasing whom. When Highway 20 was widened in 1984, there were delays along the way and the cars would stack up. When traffic was stop-and-wait, Nitchka would wander along the vehicles, whether for treats or just to visit. She adored little children.
Stubbornness emerges
Across the road there were over 100 acres of woodland, through which we had made trails in the 1960s. I hitched her up the first time there was snow, with a rope to a light plastic sled. Nitchka sat down and would not move. She must have weighed about 50 pounds then, and pulling on her did not work. That was one sign of the stubborn nature to emerge.
I would take Nitchka for walks in those woods, but only as far as she deigned to go. Then she turned around and wandered home. I tried more draconian measures than calling her, such as keeping her on leash. She sat.
Treats would not budge her. She was very large. I gave up after weeks of effort. But sometimes she would walk miles with me. Then she became coy. The trails had few straight portions, a lot of curves and blind turns. She would stop, and assume the pee-ing position. When I was out of sight she’d simply wander home.
One year Nitchka was dog-napped in the night. Gloria sent word along the postal memo highway: what she looked like, with picture, and that she understood certain commands I had taught her in Russian. She was busted by the Sedro-Woolley cops, playing with little kids in the schoolyard. Her collar and tags were gone. We were called by the Burlington pound. I asked to speak with Nitchka. The woman put the phone to the dog’s ear and I uttered her name. No response. I offered another word. No response. The lady asked, “Are you sure this is your dog?”
We were sure, so we jumped into the little pickup truck and headed west. I had this “Lassie Come Home” fantasy that Nitchka would see me, bound into my arms and lick me gratefully.
We got there, went to her pen and she howled. (They don’t bark.) The lady opened the door and I squatted down to hug Nitchka. She ran right by me and stopped where the cats were caged.
We brought her home and her habits had not changed. Sadly, she got on the highway at the wrong time and we found her dead in the ditch.
I still think of Nitchka and she has earned her place among the celebrated “Dogs of the Mazama Store.”
