Myron's Badger Saves The Day

“Badger! Let’s get those ice clumps out of your paws.” The big Husky laid down on the wooden deck; I put one paw in my lap and wrapped it in a steaming cloth to loosen the ice. Badger’s tail thumped. The paw cleaning took thirty minutes, and after, the snowy wilderness and serenity sedated us to snooze by the fireplace.

A roaring engine woke us. Huge snowflakes were floating past the window, sponging up normal sounds. Pure crystalline snowpack covered the land, but a new layer was falling.

Outside, Mike wiped wet flakes from his snowsuit, his beard crusted in icy chunks. Alaskan Bush living didn’t make us anti-social. “Mike!”

Snow wet my hair in the seconds it took to greet him. I heard the crack of movement, but Mike wasn’t fast enough.

The avalanche of cascading snow off my roof buried him. Badger jumped on the pile and began digging. Mike’s arm popped up, and Badger redirected his digging. Snow was flying in all directions; Badger barked and dug. I shoveled the vast white mound furiously; steam from my breath fogged up my sight.

Mike’s leg shot straight up in the air. When he began doing ankle circles, I knew he was okay - my goofy wilderness buddy. Badger pounced, then rolled where Mike’s torso had to be, so I gently scooped snow using a plastic funnel. Finally, I saw his grin, with his elbow positioned in a protective stance.

Mike hugged Badger, his face licked clean of snow.