(Click to see my biography, which shows a picture of us on Adoption Day.)

When my parents first met me in June of 2007, they should have known. My dad-to-be let me out of the fenced enclosure at Sarah’s place (my foster home) and was greeted with a jumping, squealing, biting ball of fur. I was about 24 lbs then and 3 ½ months old, but I quickly demonstrated that I had an alpha personality. Little did poor Gryffin (my 2-yr-old to-be-Siberian-“brother," henceforth known as “chew toy") know what was in store for him—and just for the record, my parents think I am a perfect example of why adopters who want a puppy should DEFINITELY have an older dog on hand to help handle it! You can read Gryffin’s success story, too. He was a Pet Harbor dog as well.

A week after retrieving little Phoenix (me, my new name), the four of us made a 12-hour car trip to Maine to visit my dad’s family. My alpha personality was best demonstrated when I screwed up my little face and barked menacingly at several bikers idling near our car (or as menacing as a Siberian puppy can be). Of course, I revealed my true nature when we reached Grandma’s home. You see, I had passed the cat test and was labeled as “cat-friendly." Grandma had two kittens, and my parents and Grandma hoped that we could all cohabitate in a small house on a lake for several days. Right…They brought a muzzle for Gryffin because he failed his cat test with flying colors. But I, being cat-friendly, didn’t need one. Boy, did I fool them! Needless to say, that was a mistake that culminated with my chasing one of the kittens around the house until it tried to escape out a closed window (They called me a “tiny terror," narrowly avoiding the (tiny) jaws of death. I am no longer considered cat-friendly.

In fact, I am not friendly to any small creature. I am especially menacing to bunnies (of which there are many in our neighborhood). Dad has frequently almost had his shoulder dislocated from my lunging after bunnies, which are stupid enough to let a husky get close—for some reason, they run for only a few yards, then stop and look back, as if to say, “Whew, that was close—holy sh*% it’s still after me!"…ha ha, little do they know. And my parents will be ashamed to say it, but they perhaps they ought to admit that occasionally they indulge my brother and me by chasing the bunnies as a family.

I have grown immensely since joining my family (hence the incredible strain on Dad’s arms). As I am writing this, I am one year and almost 4 months, and topped out at a whopping 73.3 lbs at our last vet visit (and the vet said I look great)! I still behave very much like a puppy, however, including grabbing my leash in my mouth on walks and effusive greetings when my parents return home from work that involve much howling and kisses (and jumping—they’re working on that). In fact, I am quite a talker. I have been since the first day I got home. As a eunuch, I have a lovely singing voice, which I am not shy about sharing with my family. We have group howls frequently (Gryffin does not deign to join us). Gryffin and I, however, speak with each other in our own special husky way, which involves barks, woos, bays, and growls. Sometimes at the dog park people think we’re fighting, and our parents have to explain that no, we’re just talking “smack" while we play (which we do at home every day).

I, of course, was an addition to our family largely because my parents wanted a companion for Gryffin. They say they couldn’t be luckier in this regard because from when I was a young pup, Gryffin and I have been more or less inseparable. We keep each other company while they are at work, sleep together in the hallway by the entry door, and each of us will punish the other when the other gets to go outside by himself. Well, of course, I have a right to punish Gryffin, don’t I? I mean, fair is fair, after all. Gryffin and I regularly play what Dad has taken to calling “Siberian-Mexican standoff," where we will position ourselves at opposite ends of the kitchen-living room area and talk to each other menacingly until some unspoken signal motivates us to charge each other (kind of like jousting). This is highly amusing to watch (but dangerous to be in the middle of).

Unfortunately, I cannot be left uncrated for the duration of the day as my parents initially tried to do once I reached a year (Gryffin does not need a crate). This is because I have developed a taste for books. By this, I mean I enjoy eating them. After the destruction of several very expensive textbooks from college, my parents decided that perhaps I needed to continue staying in my crate for a little while longer. I have also demonstrated recently that I cannot be trusted alone on the back deck (where I enjoys sunning), because I have developed a passing fondness for plucking unripe tomatoes off Mom’s tomato plant and eating them.

In spite of my many foibles, however, my parents love me dearly. They say I have been a fantastic addition to their family, and Gryffin and I are really brothers now. They don’t mean to imply that I am just a terror. In contrast, I am a very sweet and loving dog (except to bunnies). I continually amuse them with my antics but at the same time demonstrate a sharp intelligence, desire to please, and love of my parents and my brother. We have already had many adventures together (including dryland dogsledding!) and hope to have many more (We’re going to start bikejoring…) Gryffin and I look forward to our next year with our parents and can’t wait to see what’s in store.

Phoenix Beal