Ennutsiak’s work often proceeded from what he had seen. Unlike many of his Baffin Island contemporaries, he repeatedly elected to depict observable, lived moments over emblematic “types.” He favoured carvings that read as small tableaus of communal activity, showing how bodies gather, work, and care for one another in scenes of hunting, travel, and domestic life.

Here, in this somewhat unusual work for the artist, two sled dogs are buttressed against one another at the hindquarters, pressed so closely that they read first as a single unit, then as a pair moving away from one centre. The backs rise in matching arcs, and the legs are planted squarely, giving the forms a braced, working stability. Each is set in a low, forward-leaning stance, with the head dropped close to the ground and turned slightly outward, so the line of the body runs from the tight point of contact to the ground-facing muzzle. Only one dog’s tongue lolls out, a small softness against the hard polish of the stone.

While we cannot know why this small scene held the artist’s attention, we can imagine any number of simple reasons. Perhaps these were his favourite sled dogs, caught in a moment of play, braced back to back before peeling off in opposite directions. Maybe Ennutsiak was drawn to the simple observation of the way animals touch, adjust, and move on. Whatever its source, the observation is affectionate, and the subject carries its own appeal.