Suka was a one-of-a-kind pup who loved running free, stealing pizza, chasing rabbits, and sunbathing.



From the moment we came across her in the shelter, we knew she was special. While every other dog in the shelter barked in effort to capture our attention, all Suka had to do was quietly stare at us with her big blue eyes and we were sold. We weren't sure if the shelter would give her to us, since she was a Siberian Husky in Durham, North Carolina, a notably different climate than the kind she was supposed to be in. But the Husky rescue the shelter was talking with didn't snatch her up, so she was ours.



We quickly discovered how much she loved laying outside in the hot sun, the light reflecting off her pristine white coat in a way that blinded anyone who tried to catch a glimpse of her in her true natural habitat. Even more quickly we discovered her free-spirited nature, which is a kind way of saying she loved to break out of the house and run around the neighborhood for hours while we tried to chase her down. 



The first time she ran, we had only had her a couple days. The only reason we found her was because she ended up in someone's driveway pulling an entire pizza pie out of their garbage can. We named her Suka because we read somewhere online that it means "runs quickly" in Inuit, but the validity of that claim is unknown. 



Suka was a companion, a protector, and above all, family. Though guardianship over her changed multiple times over the course of her life, from my mom, Angel, to my dad, Jim, back to Angel, then settling with my brother, Adam, she rolled with the beat, adapting to her  homes, her new dog and cat friends, and to the kids she lived with until she died. 



She had an attitude; not a bad one, but she had opinions and voiced them. She was not obedient, she wasn't constantly at our side, and if she slept with us, it was at the very bottom of the bed, as far away from us as possible. If she cooperated with us, it was because her best interests aligned with ours. I always thought of her as more of a cat in a dog's body. Her independence was undeniable, so when she relied on you or when she showed you affection, it was a sign that she truly loved you because she respected you, not just because she was a dog. And if you gained her respect, she was loyal until the end.



I will never have a dog like Suka again. I've never met a dog even remotely like her. Living without her already feels different. She was a staple in our families, a uniting force between my amicably divorced parents that helped me feel like part of a family unit despite their separation.



She was conversation starter for visitors who admired her beauty, unaware of the many times I had to hose her down after she rolled in cow poop, the instances she'd killed a rabbit and started eating it raw before we caught her, and her "submissive peeing problem," which just ended up being the result of her excitement to see you walk through the door. 



I love you, Sukabee. Thank you for caring for me and our family in a way no other dog could have.



- Alyeska