Rez Dogs

Back home in Boston, Malian is usually one of the first students to hand in class assignments. She is frustrated with the unreliable Internet connection on the rez, which is making her fall behind with her schoolwork. Her teacher is understanding, but her father’s words about staying ahead to “avoid being seen by narrow-minded people as a ‘lazy Indian’” (41) stick with her. Even though Malian loves being with her grandparents, she misses her parents. As Malian’s mood sinks, her grandmother appears with a plate of warm frybread and a jar of honey. Before taking a bite, Malian and her grandmother place a piece of frybread under the cedar tree for the Manogies, the little guardians of the natural world. Malsum seems to know that the bread offering is not for him and waits. As Malian’s grandmother sings an old “thank-you song” Malian thinks about the origins of “frybread.” It is made from rations the United States government gave Malian’s people after they took their land. As much as she loves frybread, Malian knows that it is made from “[t]he cheapest and the worst kind of stuff in place of the old-time nutritious food” (49).

Malian’s grandmother talks to Malian about Malian’s mother, her daughter-in-law. Social services took Malian’s mother away from her parents, claiming that her parents were “unfit” because they were poor and Indigenous. The same thing almost happened to Malian’s grandparents by “Indian School Attendance officers,” who would show up and drag kids away (51). Grandma Frances remembers the words of the American philosopher, Henry David Thoreau— “if you see someone coming to your house with the express purpose of doing good for you, leave quickly by the back door” (53). Grandma Frances admires and respects Henry Thoreau who loved the Penobscot, but died before he could write about his time with them.

Malian’s mother was placed in foster care before being adopted by the Wintons, a “nice white family” (55). She traced her biological roots when she was in college and the Wintons brought her to Penacook to visit the reservation. She met Thomas, Malian’s father, during that visit. Malian smiles as she remembers her father sharing his first impression of her mother, who “looked like Indian Miss America, but talked like a Valley girl” (58). Malian appreciates her parent’s efforts to stay connected to their roots.

Malian and Malsum spend their days on the front porch steps, occasionally waving to their neighbor. Malian marvels at how much she has connected to Malsum, her “wolf who had a lot of dog in him” (62). Malian never had a dog because her family lives in a city. On the rez, dogs run free. Twice, Malsum brings back game to eat, first a partridge followed by a snowshoe rabbit.

When Malsum licks Grandma Frances’s face, Grandma Frances sarcastically jokes that Malsum will lick off all the make-up she put on for the TV crews— knowing that the last people that the media care about in a crisis are Indigenous Americans. This is despite the fact that Indigenous people are disproportionality affected by COVID, with higher infection and death rates. As Grandma strokes Malsum’s back, she tells Malian the story of why dogs are the only animals who have always lived with humans. According to the legend, before humans were created, Gluskonba, “the first one shaped like a human being” was allowed to mold things to better suit the future humans (70). At that time all of the animals were huge. For example, Mikwe the red squirrel was as “big as three elephants” (72).

Gluskonba spoke to each animal and asked what they planned to do when they met the humans. Gluskonba shrunk the animals that said they would kill or harm the humans, and left the ones who said they would run away (like rabbit and deer) alone. Dog was the only animal who responded positively, listing all the things he wanted to do with humans—hunt and run with them, live in their homes, guard them, play with human children and “be their best friend” (74). Gluskonba told dog that is how it will be and called him “Alemos—the one who walks with us” (75). Malian says “Nialach […] So it is” (75). As Grandma watches Malsum she agrees, adding that it is still like that today.