NEMO, THE FAITHFUL SLED DOG

The icy blasts were whistling down from the North, whirling great clouds of snow through the darkness, and piling it up in hug drifts. The blaze of burning logs shone through the blizzard and the darkness, illuminating the camp of the two travelers who were undeterred by the storm.

Jay Forbes and Dave Thurston had pitched camp in the shelter of a thicket of pines just as darkness had fallen in the North country. The dog team had immediately eaten their allotment of frozen fish, and were sleeping beneath a cover of snow in which they had burrowed. The men conversed they enjoyed the warmth of the fire.

“Tomorrow we reach Bolton Station,” David said, rubbing his hands together. “From there, Jay, you can work the territory to the West. I am still strong enough to carry on the work on this side of the station. I still have a good many miles of travel in these legs of mine; despite my age.”

“How many years have you been here?” Jay asked the older man.

“I have carried the Gospel of Christ for forty years throughout this region; traveling by horse, boat, dog team and foot. Summer suns, winter blasts, storms and sunshine. I have weathered whatever confronted me every month of the year.”

“Don’t you know you are getting too old for such strenuous work? No many men would keep on as you have.”

“That’s true” responded Dave. At the age of sixty, they are ready to quit, and many do. I have to slow down to some extent. This is why I am giving you a portion of my parish. But quit? Never!”

Pt. 2

Jay looked at the missionary who had covered that vast expanse of the north country so that scattered settlers, trappers and traders might have the Gospel. “Did you ever feel tempted to quit?”

The elder man sat for a moment without speaking, a faraway look in his eyes, as his mind went back through the years to a particular occasion. “Yes, there was a time when I almost quit. I was discouraged. Doubts and fears caused me to almost give up.”

With this, Jay asked, “Would you mind telling me what happened to change your mind?”

“I will be glad to tell you, Dave replied. Perhaps when you are discouraged in the future, (and you will be) this story will encourage you to keep going.”

“It happened after I had been here for five years. One day I met a man who told of a church back in civilization. The church offered him the position of pastor. He contrasted his easier life there. I must confess that the picture he painted appealed to me. How many men would exchange places with me? How many would endure the rigors and hardships in exchange for the easier life and larger crowds?”

“I asked myself why I should continue doing this work when I could minister to people in a much easier environment. Let some other person come out here to the wilderness. Ultimately, I was offered a position much like the one I just mentioned. I told the church I would let them know when I returned from a five hundred mile sled trip I have planned.

“I had a wonderful team of dogs. Five stalwart huskies; the strongest of which was Nemo, my lead dog. In some ways, he seemed almost human. He would follow the trail even when it was buried in many feet of snow.”

Pt. 3

“I had traveled about four hundred miles when Nemo became sick. He lacked his usual vim and vigor in the harness that morning, and by noon he could hardly keep going; though he showed absolutely no sign of quitting. I stopped early in the afternoon that day thinking that he might regain his strength overnight.

I watched Nemo the next morning as I harnessed the team. He was in his usual place as lead dog. No matter how he felt, no other dog could take his place. There was a dignity about that dog, as he assumed the place that belonged to him. I looked into his eyes, and a fierce pride radiated from them. I patted him on the head, and encouraged him. At my signal, he leaped forward; pulling the rest of the team in line.

In less than an hour, Nemo stumbled and fell; seemingly too weak to travel any further. I started to unstrap him, but he staggered to his feet and looked me squarely in the eyes. If eyes ever spoke a message, the look he gave me spoke to me. There was such a pathetic, sorrowful look in his eyes that I quickly strapped him in the lead again. That noble creature was near the end of his final trail. Death was near at hand, but even so, those eyes conveyed a broken heart lest any other dog should take his place. He wanted to die in the harness.

Tears blinded my eyes as I saw that dog stagger on without any signal from me. His brave, courageous heart was not acquainted with the word, ‘quit.’ For a few minutes, his strength seemed renewed, and then, he fell; never to rise again. Nemo had reached the end of his trail, but he died in the harness.

I thought I was a strong man, but I shed a lot of tears that day when I realized that my friend of many trails had left me behind. I paused there long enough to build a fire, and thaw the ground enough to bury my faithful companion. Good old Neo, faithful partner; with no thought of quitting until the breath had left his body. No trail was too hard for him. He never complained at the weight of the load, but always immediately leaped into his place.

Jay, all thoughts of the ease and luxuries of a new position in a civilized environment left me then and there; never to return. A dog’s loyalty to me shamed me in my loyalty to the Savior. That night I looked into the star covered sky, and gave God my answer. I thanked Him for the privilege of service, and promised I would serve Him in the place he had put me; until I dropped in my tracks.

That was thirty-five years ago. Some day someone may find my body lying somewhere on the trail; dead in the proverbial harness. Christ walked Golgotha’s lonely trail for me. Can I do any less for Him? Perhaps sometime when the way seems too dark and the load too heavy, you will remember my story, and find strength to continue.”

The young and older men were silent for a few minutes; one reflecting on the story he just heard, and the other on having actually been there. Finally, Jay excused himself to his sleeping bag, and prepared for a few hours of well-deserved rest. 

The last thing he saw ere sleep overcame him was that of the aged missionary sitting next to the fire; his elbows on his knees and chin resting on his fists, meditating on the memories of the past, and looking forward to the day when he, too would reach the end of his earthly trail, and would be reunited with his faithful dog; who, for all his love, and pride, and courage had died in the harness.

Excerpt from "Favorite Stories & Illustrations" by Zeno C. Tharp, Church of God Publishing House, Copyright 1956 with editing by William McDonald, PhD.