Owning sled dogs has taught me a lot, as owning any pet does, but I'd make the argument that sled dogs teach a little more. There's a different bond when you rely on these animals to carry you through the woods, to listen to your commands, and to safely bring you home. You are teammates. You see miles of trails together. In my case, you see almost the whole country together.
That was the way of Knoxville's life, as he was part of this mushing journey from the start. He and Denali were the start, really. For awhile, it was just us (and Dexter), figuring out this thing called dog sledding.
Knox wasn't a "real" sled dog. Back in the beginning, I thought that I would alternate between buying from mushing kennels and adopting rescues to build my little team. It quickly became evident that random rescue pooches don't make the best sled dogs (duh), but I'll never regret choosing Knox.
As a tiny puppy, Knox was absurdly cute. He was, in fact, the cutest thing I have ever seen. And it's a good thing, because he was an absolute terror. He peed with reckless abandon and screamed every night in his crate. I still think the rescue group messed up his age and he was likely closer to six weeks when I got him, so I'll excuse his chaotic puppyhood. And again, he was really, ridiculously cute.
Knox was an asset to my ramshackle team, kind of. I needed more power. He was never too great at passing other teams, he had terrible feet, and his woolly coat always balled up with snow and ice. But we made it work for almost a decade.
Despite being pure mayhem as a puppy, Knox grew into a stoic and (mostly) chill adult. He acquired a literal fan club (#knoxappreciationsociety on Twitter) devoted to his majestic floofiness and a moderately viral video where he eats a pea from a fork. He was an aloof guy, who would happily greet company but then preferred to hangout under a table or away from commotion. He was the softest dog I've ever touched but mostly avoided cuddling. He had the most fur to shed but hated being brushed. So it goes.
My heart is heavy because I wanted more time. He was oldish, not old old. He was a few months shy of 11 when cancer quickly took him. But I have no regrets. From his first day with me until his last, he lived the best life I could give him.
Knox saw the tallest mountain in California and the multi-foot snowstorms in New York. We camped all over the Northeast. He waded in New Jersey lakes and hiked in the Catskills. He hung out in a bungalow in Venice Beach. He got loose in the Hudson Valley and ended up on a duck farm. He ate countless pizza crusts and cleaned peanut butter from infinite Kongs. His best friend was Willow, but he was happy to playfully terrorize every new puppy that joined the pack.
I don't know his exact date of birth, but I've always celebrated it on September 5th. When that date comes around, have a slice of pizza or a peanut butter sandwich, if you can. Go outside and sniff the air. It probably won't be chilly yet, but enjoy the onset of Autumn, since he won't be here to appreciate the cold. If you want to donate to your local animal shelter or rescue org, I'd appreciate that, too.
The last thing Knox taught me was how to say goodbye. He was a good boy. I'll miss him always.
