I spent a lot of time last summer wandering the streets of Kotzebue and I found myself meeting a new dog at almost every turn.  They are central to the culture of the arctic--just as they always have been--though the role they play in most households is different now.  Snow machines have replaced the dog team.  Mail is now delivered by plane.  Mushing has become a luxury sport.  Even some of the people who keep teams to race fail to feed their dogs adequately in the summer--it's cheaper that way--or maybe they are failing to feed themselves as well.  I wouldn't claim to fully know or understand what I was seeing.  I do know there is no resident veterinarian in Kotzebue.  Anything a dog might need beyond water and salmon will cost a small fortune over time. And still there were dogs chained in front of almost every house. They are  guardians.  They are scapegoats.  They areicons of a lost past.  They are, less often, companions, familiars, pets.