My lead dog is called La Coureuse, because she’s swift and elegant. The big black one, who still snarls at me, reminds me of Carcajou, the wolverine. Then there’s Gros Museau, the one with a huge head, gray coat and square shoulders. The last two animals are younger. There’s La Sorcière, with her narrow muzzle and almond eyes, lost in her long coat. The last one is Mouffette. He is stocky and has a beautiful black-and-white coat.

I have a full team, but I have to train them. I love running them along the path with La Coureuse, who soon follows my commands. Each day we go farther and farther.

It’s too early to take the sled out, so I get Charlotte’s big metal washtub and fill it with some good-sized rocks. I tie one end of the safety rope to the steps of the porch and attach the gangline to the dogs. I harness the dogs in pairs. First the two biggest and strongest, Carcajou and Gros Museau. Then come La Sorcière and Mouffette, the young ones in the middle on the outside. Far in the front at the end of the line is the leader, La Coureuse.

The dogs are all sitting nicely in perfect order, as if they have been doing this their whole lives. I get the feeling they’re smiling. I settle down in the tub, ready for a quick departure.

I’m ready. I just have to undo the safety line and give the signal to go.

Suddenly Pinamen rushes onto the porch.

“Nipishish! My washtub!”

La Coureuse rears up, and the other dogs throw themselves forward at full speed.

The shock is brutal. The washtub is lifted into the air like a feather, the stairs are literally snatched from under us and we are off down the path at a dizzying speed. The trees rush by on both sides. I lean back and hang on to the sides of the washtub with both hands as it flies and bounces over the mounds of frozen earth.

“Whoa! La Coureuse! Whoa!” I scream at the top of my lungs.

But it’s no use. The team is yapping with joy, and they are having a wonderful time. I can hardly hold on. At any moment I risk tumbling head over heels onto the path.

We’re about to arrive at the stream. Maybe that will stop them. But no, they throw themselves into it as if as if it isn’t even there. The washtub sinks and fills with water. I barely have time to leap out. I’m in water up to my knees. The dogs are in water up to their necks.

Now I’m mad, but I take a deep breath and calm down. I wade up to La Coureuse, grab her by the collar and put the team back on the path home.