OCR Text |
Show u The owner had walked away to talk to Mr. Carmody about his truck. Finally he returned, folded the garage bill into his pocket, nodded to the boy, and climbed into his truck. With a lump in his throat Josh stepped back, slowly waving two fingers to the whining puppy with the black mask. The truck backed out. As it passed, the man studied Josh O'Tosh for a moment, then stopped the truck and got out. "Son, I was just thinking," he said as he walked up. "We show our malamutes and want to keep the breed as pure as possible. Sometimes we get a 'throwback'-you know, a puppy that's like its great grandparents a hundred generations back." Josh nodded, trying to figure out what the man was talking about "Well, the Eskimos developed the malamutes, crossing with a strain of Arctic wolf-who knows when?" The man paused, pulled his hat low, and massaged his crinkled chin as he studied the boy. With a furrowed brow he said, "Once in a blue moon we get a throwback, like this pup here, with the traits of its old wolf ancestors. Bigger, with the wolf lines, wolf gait. Not square and stocky like a malamute should be for show." He shook his head in distaste. "Wh-what do you do with them then?" Josh asked, holding his breath. The man frowned. "Most breeders do away with them right off. But that one," he pointed to the big grey puppy who was scratching at the wire cage to reach the boy, "my wife won't let me." His heart pounding, Josh gazed at the pup. "That one's the best dog I ever saw," he said in awed reverence. "As a matter of fact, I'd let him go real cheap-without papers, |