Fantastic Four

No more snow fell, but my restlessness to get out, and to get the dogs out, overrode whatever good judgement I might harbor on warmer days. I decided that with the amount of snow we had, I probably wouldn't destroy the runners too badly on the road, and that I could probably control four dogs even with the minimal snow. 

Probably.

It didn't take much to decide on taking the four DewClaw dogs - Reese & Xtra have been running great together in lead, and Parka & Devilfish are a solid, hardworking pair that have only caused some minor trouble at hook-up with tangles but never on the trail. I had Peter stand on the drag-mat while I clipped my chosen four in, trying to ignore the insistent voice in the back of my head noting how very thin the snow was in the yard.

Norrin screeched with indignation at being left behind, but there was no way I was going to risk dealing with a melt-down without enough snow to set the hook. Peter commented yesterday that he is very much like the character Terry on True Blood - a really nice, capable, stand-up kind of guy who's been so traumatized by his past that he could lose it at any time. You really want to count on him, but you just can't. And today was not a good day for an episode of doggie-PTSD.

The team surged out of the yard while I stood on the drag mat, bracing hard for the ninety degree turn at the bottom of the hill.  Our speed stayed reasonable, much to the chagrin of Xtra and Parka who kept looking back at me. Their message to "get your foot off the brake" seemed quite clear. We made the turn without incident. The trail out to the road was rough. The deep, frozen-in ruts from some summer ATV rider had me jumping from runner to runner, trying to keep the sled from bottoming out or lodging altogether while keeping one foot on the mat to keep our overall speed down.

The berm onto the road is still steep and mostly exposed rock. I jumped off and ran up with the sled to keep it from flipping or tearing up the runners. The dogs made the left turn and then took off at a dead run the second they had the open road in front of them. My arms nearly came out of their sockets as I jumped to hit the runners again. The road had enough packed snow that the drag mat wasn't hitting too much rock and gravel. I still had a foot down hard, trying to keep our speed down between eight and nine miles an hour. It was hard. Without the heavy ATV behind them, I could feel the dogs pulling for more speed, and I wanted badly to let them stretch out. But not today.

My plan was to run down the road to a new-to-me trail-head I had found out about just past the farm. This new trail requires running further on the road, but bypasses the need to cross Rosie Creek, whose ice is still a bit thin for my taste. I figured we would head down this trail for a mile or so and see what it was like, then turn around. This would keep us at about five miles, which is what we'd been running before we lost the ATV. I wanted to get a feel for these four dogs, the sled and this new trail, while keeping the speed and miles low.

I was surprised that I still had a foot solidly on the drag mat two miles after we started. Last year, with my little proto-team of four (with three solidly geriatric members) the drag-mat was put away after a quarter mile, and I was kicking or running with the team up anything resembling a slope. If I didn't contribute, we weren't going to go anywhere. The old dogs were very clear about this rule from day one. I was shocked when we hit the first little hill and the DewClaw crew hardly slowed down, much less looked back to see why I was still on the runners.

We got to the trail and Reese figured out the turn without my having to come to a complete stop even though he's run past it without batting an eye on every other run over the last month. There was a fork just a few yards down and since I had no idea where either headed I let Reese have his pick. He took the straighter shot and were were quickly on badly rutted jeep-trail through frozen marsh. I let them go for about a half mile, keeping our speed at nearly a crawl to prevent injuries, before calling it. I stopped the sled, and within thirty seconds Reese had pulled off a perfect around-haw and we were headed home. I was so delighted by this that I tried not to think too much about the fact that I hadn't asked for it. On the way home we did a reprise of that little right-turn jag off the road that runs with the power lines for about a quarter mile before rejoining. Reese took the right nearly on the fly!

On the way home, a woman and three loose dogs appeared on the road ahead of us. I braced myself for the tangles and screeching and drama I've come to expect with Pico. To my surprise, even though I knew the team saw the loose dogs ahead, they didn't pick up their speed. We continued to trot like the road was empty. Two of the three dogs were smart enough to back off the headlong progress of my pack (the other was being held by its person) though all of them were barking and yelping in earnest. The DewClaw crew ran right past the circus like they weren't even there. I smiled at the woman and wished her a good walk, grinning from ear to ear with (unearned) pride and relief. This was the first pass of dogs - loose or otherwise - I've ever made without having to stop and untangle and resort before moving on.

We got home, clocking a nearly-perfect 5.1 miles, fluctuating between seven and ten miles per hour. I was riding the drag mat for 90% of the run. I'm going to put together a duffel bag of emergency gear and throw on a bag of dog food for weight for our next run. I also feel like I can - and probably should - shorten the length of the tugs & gang line coming off the bridle but I want to look into this a little more before I decide for sure. I feel like corners might be a little easier if I'm closer to the wheel dogs and I've been guessing on line length to this point anyway.

Overall, we certainly didn't have enough snow to be running the sled. The drag mat did give me the control I needed, but it was dicey and just one more dog would have been too many. I felt every rock on the road and I really dodged a bullet that my runners came out alright.  There isn't enough of a base for the bar brake, and if anything had gone wrong there were a lot of places I would have been hard-pressed to find something to tie a snub-line to.

But this won't last forever. We got two inches this morning with more on the way, and I bet the White Mountains have plenty of pack already. Now we just need to get the dog box on the truck. That sounds like a good project for a lazy Sunday afternoon.

little victories

Today was a perfect day. The sun was out, the sky was a clear baby blue and the temperature was sitting at about 15F. We are still in that part of early winter where the sun is high enough to make real, bright, squint-inducing daylight. The snow is sparkling and even though we aren't really in winter-wonderland territory, we are getting there.

After yesterday's trouble getting out of the yard, I was apprehensive to put Xtra up front right out of the gate. I don't want to put more pressure on her than she can handle, especially since I've made that mistake quite a bit with Norrin early this season. My options were limited. Pepper was out, as was Norrin. I really like how Devilfish and Parka are doing as a wheel pair and don't want to mess with that quite yet. I know Pico will run up front, but I don't trust his ADHD brain once we are off the trail and on the road. He is likely to pull an otherwise straight-ahead and focused team into an oncoming car or after a stray dog. When he is in team, his attempts to pull this kind of behavior off are thwarted by their momentum and Norrin's steady bulk.

I waited until the last second to make my decision, and it was this: I would hook Xtra up with Reese just before we left. If she tried to turn and follow me back to the ATV more than once, I'd switch her for Pico and then switch them back as soon as we were on the road. To my surprise, Xtra lined out next to Reese, leaning into his lanky side and watching me as I walked back down the line. Encouraged, Peter and I jumped on the ATV and we were off ... through the yard and down the trail without a hitch. I was elated.

I kept a close eye on Pico as we headed out. We've been having intermittent trouble with his right front foot. There is no injury or irritation I can find, but he chews on it constantly, to the point we've had in an e-collar on several occasions over the last month. The fur is discolored from all his attention, and there seems to be black crud collecting between his pads but for the life of me I can't fine the source. His pulling has been off, too. Although he is a distracted pup, he is usually happy to work hard for all of the miles I've put on him over the last two winters. This season, however, he seems to be maxing out between two and three miles, and then dropping back and refusing to pull. He isn't limping or being dragged along, he just won't keep his tug line tight. I would chalk this up to laziness, except it is new, and there is that foot. I've been treating the foot alternately with Desitin and an oil-based ointment but to no solid result. Today, I put booties on his front feet, to see if this would have any affect on his work ethic.

We ran out a little further than we've gone so far to put in a solid five-and-some-change miles. With Peter on board, I was a little more confidant in making a tight u-turn on the road with extra hands for tangles. When we reached the turn-around point, a place Reese hadn't seen yet, I slowed the ATV and pulled to the right, calling for him to turn left. He hesitated for an instant, then pulled the team around in a picture perfect around-haw! We hardly even came to a complete stop! I cheered out loud!

A few minutes later, I decided to push my luck and slowed the team when we came to a little side-trail that parallels the road for about a quarter mile. We've been on this jag once, but from the other direction. Reese and Xtra looked back at us when we stopped, but quickly took the right. No tangles, no confusion. Norrin hardly even noticed. I was so happy.

Reese & Xtra in Lead

Pepper in Swing

Pico & Norrin in Team

Devilfish & Parka in Wheel

The only low note was Pico. His boots stayed on his feet, and didn't seem to irritate him after the first few strides, but they didn't seem to help with his pulling issue much. He still backed off his tug at about the four-mile point (although maybe getting that far was an improvement?) There is still no limp, and I still can't figure out what is causing the trouble.

Overall, however, it was a spectacular run. A pile of little victories makes a mountain.

shuffling

Against my better judgement (and it was) I put Norrin in single lead while Reese was on the bench. Things seemed to go ok for about half the run, although there were a few concerning moments when Norrin simply stopped running until the swing dogs slammed into him and pushed him forward for a few strides. I left him up there by himself until about a half mile from the house, when he decided to take a sharp left into a random driveway for no reason I could see, and stopped. I got off the ATV and pulled him back onto the road, but he was a wreck. He wouldn't line out or even look forward, and he was shaking with stress. I quickly unclipped Pico from swing and moved him up - the two had run together up front all summer on the bike, after all. Pico, however, was already a bit off and ran sideways, not pulling, all the way home (more on this later.) I'm kind of surprised we made it back without further disaster.

It was a bad idea to put Norrin up front alone, and I think I'm putting too much stock in what I hope for him and not enough in the reality of what he can and can't offer. He is a strong dog with a good work ethic who completely melts down if anything - even a tiny little micro thing like a fluctuation on the speed of the ATV behind him - goes wrong. This is what I have to work with, and I need to start putting him in positions where he can succeed, and build confidence. Forcing him into my pipe-dreams isn't doing either of us, or the team, any good.

Due to scheduling and hesitation on my part, we didn't run again until Reese was back to 100%. I put Norrin and Reese up front together, still hoping that my big foster boy would shine. Norrin did great initially, but when we had to U-turn on our out-and-back route, the few seconds of chaos was too much for him. He twisted in his harness and lay down in the road, unwilling to straighten out or move forward at all. I dropped him back into the team, switching Pepper, our new girl from Skunk's Place Kennel, up front. She ran great and pulled hard, taking my "gee" command before Reese responded to it on the way home. Yes! I figured this would be our new line-up - the two white dogs up front and Norrin secure in the team, free to pull hard without the stress of leadership.

Ever-happy Pepper, on the ride home from SPKennel.

On the next run, I hooked Reese and Pepper up and they held the line out like champs. Reese has taken to laying down with tension on his line, yelp-howling and rolling lazily in the snow until hook-up is done. I am thinking that Pete's initial moniker for him - the Dude - is more apt than we realized. Peter had decided to come with me on this run, so he was waiting on the ATV while I made some last adjustments and ran back to join him. I released the brakes and the team surged forward. They ran straight for about five yards - just to the beginning of the trail - and Pepper darted off into the woods, dragging the team and tangling the lines around several bushes in an instant. I was confused and disappointed. After some quick untangling and reassuring of the team, it was clear that Pepper was headed anywhere but down the trail with Reese. I unclipped her and switched her out with Xtra, who I had in swing.

Our little dynamo was pretty nervous up there with no dogs ahead of her. I stood her next to Reese three times, only to have her turn and follow me back to the ATV, dragging him along with her.  Finally, I had Pete start moving forward, and I ran alongside the leaders. As soon as the team outpaced me, she picked up on what was happening and surged ahead. I hopped on the ATV as it passed and we were (finally!) off.

Xtra did great up front and I have put her up with Reese on the couple of runs we've done since then. She's still hesitant at the start, but once we get going she pulls hard alongside Reese. Neither of them seem sure about the turns but they both try hard.  When we stop at an intersection, they both surge towards every possible trail, track or opening in the trees to figure out which way I want them to go. They are thinking, and at this point that counts for a lot. It should be more straightforward once we have real trails with simple two-option intersections to work with. Road-running with the quad is not a good setup for attempts at command-leader training.  Norrin, in the mean time, continues to have little melt-downs back in the team and I'm really not sure what else I can do for him except try to make the runs as smooth as possible.

Reese & Norrin in Lead

Xtra in Swing

Pepper & Pico in Team

Parka & Devilfish in Wheel

We've gotten a little bit more snow, but not quite enough for sleds. I got a second loaner sled from a friend, and am casting around for another dog or two (without success, so far) to give us enough for two small teams if Pete wants to tag along some this winter. In the mean time, the ATV is going back to its owner this week so he can start his trap line. We'll have a couple more ATV runs, and then it'll be a waiting game for some good snowfall and a few more inches of ice on the creek.

points of contact

Even though I've been taking Pico and Norrin out on the bike this fall, it has been with no little trepidation each time. Given Pico's proclivity to bolt after any distraction and the general instability of a bike on a rough dirt road with two powerful animals attached to its front fork, I feel my hesitation is justified. An injury at this point could put a damper on the snow season.

After the arrival and settling-in of the DewClaw dogs, part of me wanted, badly, to take Norrin and Reese out to see how they would do together and mostly how Reese would do in lead. However the thought of hooking up and even bigger and unknown dog to the bike was unsettling. It took me a week to ramp up my courage, but I finally gritted my teeth and (with assistance from Peter, since I don't have a snub line on my bike) hooked my two big boys up.

Reese knows his job. He and Norrin ran out of the driveway and down the road like they were born striding along together. At the bottom of the hill, where Norrin still insists on breaking right despite the fact that we have NEVER gone that way, I was pretty sure Reese started to take my "haw" command before Norrin's bulk stopped him. I got off and redirected the two of them to the left, and we were on our way again in seconds. The two boys ran without further problems, Reese ignoring several driveways with just an "onby," taking two more "haw" commands - which Norrin was more amenable to follow. We passed a few yards with barking dogs without hesitation. We were flying, and I was elated.

Then we passed the horses. Pico has had some trouble with the horses, but has always managed to pass them with only some rubbernecking. Reese, however, must have a major weakness for the huge, fuzzy four-legged beasts because the second he caught wind of them his whole demeanor changed. He charged down the driveway to their pens, nearly flipping my bike and completely ignoring my pleas to pass on. I dropped the bike and hauled him back to the road, but where horses were concerned he suddenly had a single-minded, border-collie like focus. There was nothing else in his world. Norrin, a little freaked out by all the chaos, managed to back halfway out of his harness (a trick I'd heard of but never seen) and create a remarkable tangle for just two dogs in the midst of it all.

The horse's owner, at this point, was standing on his porch laughing at the spectacle on the road as I struggle to untangle one dog and break the zen trance of the other so we could move on. The minutes dragged on and Reese was still in another world. Norrin, now untangled and relatively straight on the road, finally decided he'd had enough and bodily dragged Reese by his neckline back in the right direction. Norrin succeeded where I had failed, and Reese turned and began trotting again as if the horses had never existed. The rest of the run went without incident, and I was heartened by the general success as much as I was concerned about the sudden and utter loss of focus.

I have been trying to find an ATV to borrow for the rest of the fall and first part of the winter, so that I can run all the dogs with less risk to my own limbs, until the trails have enough now pack to safely use the sled. After much asking around, my boss' husband was generous enough to lend me his, and I brought it home last week. Our first ride was a rousing success. With a team behind him, Reese took his turns and ignored our equine neighbors like a champ. Although he didn't respond to "Gee/Haw" commands, if I tapped the brakes and said "NO" when he started to take a wrong turn, he immediately corrected and lead everyone in the right direction. Even if it isn't the power steering I got used to last year with Leo, it is certainly leadership I can work with!

(Don't be fooled by Norrin's perfect "haw" - he just recognizes the driveway!)

Once everyone was settled back into the yard, I noticed that Reese was favoring one of his wrists. I brought him inside for the rest of the afternoon to keep him off it, rubbed it down with an emu oil that Jodi had given me when I picked up her crew and tried without success to find a cause. Although I know that injuries are a part of running, seeing him limping (and after only one run!) got me a little worked up. I felt awful! After some consultation with Jodi, we decided on a treatment course of rest and more rest. With my one probably-leader off the table for at least a week, the success of future ATV runs was certainly, at least in my mind, in doubt.

plus four makes six

I was ecstatic to wake up to ice on my windshield on the last Sunday in September. The temperature was still well below freezing after I fed Norrin, Pico & August and double-checked the houses, fresh hay & tie-outs I'd been getting together in the yard. I headed out around eight, bound for the old mining district of Chatinika in the southern foothills of the White Mountains and DewClaw Kennel, home of Jodi Bailey and Dan Kaduce. The drive was beautiful, although more stark than our previous visit last month. On that initial trip, when we met the dogs and sealed the arrangements for them to join us for the winter, the hills were covered in deep fall gold. This trip, the birch and aspen were bare, reaching black branches into the icy blue sky, waiting for winter and snow.

After spending some time with Jodi over coffee, talking about everything from our experiences teaching for the local community college and observations on generational differences on Facebook to the ideal size of trail snacks for the dog team and comparative merits of various ointments & oils for sore paws, we went down to the yard to get the dogs. X-tra was already chilling in the cabin when I arrived, recovering from a spat with a team-mate. We let Reese, Parka & Devilfish loose and all three made a beeline up the hill. Reese was the first at the door, waiting to take his place on the dog bed inside. He spent most of his summer in the cabin, and was eager to return. Jodi graciously let us all back in the house and showed me how to go through range of motion and back-loosening exercises with Reese and X-tra and talked a bit about about dog-bootie use now that we're going to be putting in longer miles.

While my head spun with information overload, Jodi and Dan helped me load four still-unfamiliar dogs into my truck and we headed back towards Cripple Creek and home. Reese and X-tra were in the cab with me, and brother-sister pair Parka and Devilfish rode in the back. X-tra sat nervously at the other end of the bench seat for about a minute and a half before walking over and all but crawling into my lap. She slept with her nose in my hand for the remainder of the ride. Reese, sitting in the passenger seat well, inched his way over until his paws were resting next to my feet and his head lolled onto my knee. Parka & X-tra settled down quickly in the back and we made good time on the dry roads home.

Peter helped me settle the dogs into the yard, and we spent the remainder of the morning getting to know these four new crew members, introducing them to Pico and Norrin, then letting them settle in with snacks and fresh hay.

Reese - as in Reese's Pieces - is our big mellow addition.

All four are eight-year--old Iditarod & Quest veterans. Reese is a big boy, an experienced swing dog who we hope will step up and lead with Norrin, is a sweetheart who loves to be cuddled and is happy to stand, tail beating the wind, while you scratch his ears and rub his back. He ran the Quest on Jodi's team last year and Dan's Iditarod team the year before that with many other races under his paws. He's seen more of Alaska than most Alaskans ever will, and I'm eager to see how he and Norrin do together up front.

X-tra (in a rare moment of stillness) and her big brown love-me eyes.

X-tra, named for the classic Alaskan boot X-tra Tuffs, is a little girl who would wear a pair out in no time if given half a chance. She is a crazy bundle of energy (when not attempting to curl up in my lap) who has already worn a deep trench in her spot trotting solid mile after mile. It is hard to catch her standing still unless you are scratching behind her ears and under her belly.

Parka says drop the camera and pet me.

Parka is much more aggressive about getting attention, and will wrap her paws around your waist if you get close enough, daring you to walk away. She loves to bury her head into your chest or armpit and just sit there, soaking up the attention we've been lavishing on her, tail swinging wildly. She and her brother are solid team dogs that will make a valuable addition in power and experience to our growing winter team.

Devilfish, looking good.

Devilfish, the most wolfish looking of the four, loves attention, too, and hovers at your hip when you are working in his zone. But his most remarkable trait is his ability to make food disappear in an instant. At feeding time, when the other dogs are just beginning to dig into their meal, he is already pacing at the end of his line, bowl licked clean and hoping for seconds or thirds.

Devilfish's scar is from unauthorized canned-food reclaimation efforts.

All four dogs, not only veterans of racing but of travel and the change that comes with it, have settled nicely into our yard and into our pack. All six are getting along well,  eating like champs and howling together after meals. They make good company as we work around the yard finishing up fall projects before the snow and cold hit. I have been a picture of bliss, spending tons of time in the yard and house bonding with them. I'm chomping at the bit for snow, and I don't think I'm the only one eager for some good trail to run.

Parka gives one last high-five! To a spectacular season!
 

::: Editorial Note: Dog Profiles will probably change as we get to know our new members better. :::

theories

I found an old book on training lead dogs that I've been reading over the past couple of weeks. The training method is based on a system of natural consequences drawn in part from observations of dogs' interactions & socialization with their peers. At this point in my life with dogs, I've read a lot of dog training books, some of which fly directly in the face of this method and others which take this tack a lot further than I (or this author) would ever be comfortable with. I think while there are broad strokes on dog training that can absolutely be applied across the board, every dog and every situation is different and your best bet is to read everything you can, then adapt and hopefully overcome.

I should have known better than to take the boys out on a Saturday afternoon. I think I would be more willing to confront problems with Pico head on if I felt like I had some idea of where to begin to address them, but most of the time I am at a loss. We headed out on Saturday and had a nice run for about half of the hilly two-mile loop of gravel road we've been running. At the top of the hill, I was peddling hard to keep our momentum high and encourage the boys to keep running around the left turn. No no avail. Pico stopped to sniff-and-pee before we'd even started to turn. At the moment he dove into the bushes, dragging Norrin with him, I heard voices off to my right. Just thirty yards down the road, a group of ten adults and a small dog on a leash were approaching us, out for an evening stroll. I looked back at Pico, who was still 100% focused on bush-marking and hadn't seen them yet. I dropped the bike and pulled both dogs back onto the road facing uphill, then ran back hoping to get them moving again before they saw the group approaching.

No luck. The little dog spotted us and started yipping and it was all over. Before I could even straighten my bike, Pico had spun himself and Norrin 180 degrees, arcing the lines down and tangling them around my bike handles and pedals. We were now facing downhill towards the approaching group,  with Pico shaking and yelping and struggling to drag us all into the crowd and managing to block the entire road with the bike and lines. I ran forward and grabbed them both, dragging both dogs away from the little dog as the group passed us laughing and commenting on how nice it must be to go for a bike ride and not have to do any work at all. Pico was in hysterics. Knowing we would never be able to make a successful pass at this point, I turned us around and headed home the way we'd come. Even after they were out of sight, it took several tries to get the two boys lined out and moving forward in the opposite direction.

We were retracing the long straightaway when I saw two dogs on the road at the corner. I knew the second Pico saw them about thirty seconds later because he surged ahead, slamming into his tug line. His movements transitioned from smooth and graceful to jerky and frantic as he fought the harness to gain speed and get to them. I saw Norrin move as far to the right as their neckline would allow, trying to away from Pico's frantic energy. I rode the brakes hard, trying to discourage Pico's crazy bolt, but despite forcing them to a slow trot he didn't stop trying to run, digging his claws into the gravel road and surging with every stride. When we reached the dogs, they bolted into the woods to the right and Norrin managed to mostly block Pico from following them (I was expecting a crash here, if they both dragged me and the bike off the road and into the steep ditch the dogs had launched over before they disappeared.) Once Pico's chase was thwarted by Norrin's bulk and the targets were out of sight, he calmed down and stopped. I had to do some untangling before we could move on, but managed to get us going again pretty quickly.

One turn and a hundred yards later, two more loose dogs appeared in a driveway. We were already nearly on top of them when they emerged, and Pico managed to push Norrin over enough to get a straight shot, bouncing and wagging and yelping and slamming his harness.  At this point, I decided to give what I'd been reading a shot. I dropped the bike, walked over to Pico without a word, picked him up by his harness just enough for his feet to come off the ground, gave him a little shake and laid him down on the road. I held him there until he stopped struggling to go after the loose dogs, then gently let him go and walked back to my bike. I never said a word past my first ignored command of "NO" when he'd first seen the dogs. To my shock, he jumped up, shook himself and lined back out on the road, ignoring the dogs who were now disappearing down the driveway, running forward perfectly the second I straightened the bike and let off the brakes, tail wagging. We only ran another 700 feet up the hill to the house, but he was totally focused on his job for every step of those 700 feet.

I know that this method would never work for Norrin, given his sensitive personality and history of physical abuse. But for Pico, with his wild puppy ways and rough-and-tumble day-to-day life, the calm, silent correction spoke louder than any verbal command (or tirade) ever did. He seemed to immediately understand that his behavior was unacceptable and he was expected to get back to work. We haven't gone out again since that incident, but I'm going to be curious to see how this continues to play out.

losing dogs

Dottie and Sawyer went home yesterday. I had those old girls for nearly a year, and they taught me a lot about running and managing dogs and managed to get their geriatric little paw prints all over my heart in the process. The departure was as sudden as Rsta and Arwyn's two years ago. I had been halfheartedly trying to get in touch with their owner, but we'd mostly been playing phone tag. Yesterday afternoon, I got a call that she was in town and could pick them up in a few hours. And as suddenly as that my dog yard was nearly empty. I spent my evening raking up old hay and cleaning out boxes instead of feeding and poop scooping and cuddling.

one last snapshot of Sawyer & Dottie, in my truck on the way into town

Despite my mixed feelings at seeing them go, and returning to a nearly empty yard and frantically lonely Norrin, the timing was perfect. I have a few days to get the yard set up before this winter's batch of loaner dogs begin arriving. After all the uncertainty and lack of response to mid-summer inquiries, I contacted Jodi Bailey of DewClaw Kennel. She ran as a rookie in both the Quest and the Iditarod last year (the first person ever to make two rookie runs in one year, and has a great blog to boot!) and her partner Dan Kaduce is mainstay in the competitive distance world. I met her briefly this summer, but certainly didn't know her well enough to start asking for dogs from their close-knit kennel out of the blue. Yet my cold-call request for loaner dogs was greeted with support and enthusiasm and, after some discussion, four solid eight year old distance veterans! With the addition of a dog from Aily Zirkle's kennel, that puts our team up to seven - just a single dog shy of my pipe-dream winter goal of running and eight dogs.

I've spent a lot of the summer debating and worrying about the coming winter - our last in Alaska for a while; Should I go ahead and buy used dog houses off Craigslist as they pop up, just in case? Should I buy rope from the remainder bin at ColdSpot to make more lines I may never need? Do I purchase a load of bargain used harnesses from the retiring Quest racer at a yard sale, even though I don't know if I'll have any dogs, much less what size they'll need, in four months? Back when I was deeply steeped in religious subculture, I would have called this sort of thing "acting in faith." I don't think I ever actually acted in faith so wholeheartedly a single time in the religious sphere. Yet I did so all summer long on these dogs, though not without a good deal of anxiety. It turns out my blind hope that things would work out wasn't utterly futile after all. And ultimately, having the money trickle out on good deals over the warm months was probably a lot less traumatic for our bank account.  

a summer's worth of combing craigslist ... plus seven dog houses & an 8-hole dog box.

Now it's just a matter of picking up dogs, and waiting impatiently for snow.

This week, a friend's chocolate lab, only three years old, died unexpectedly of complications from a massive bowel obstruction. It was an awful thing to happen, both to such a young dog and to such a dearly adored companion. Molly is heartbroken, and watching her grief brought back some of my own horror and shock at losing my first dog Nyssa suddenly (though not nearly as suddenly) to lymphoma nearly a year and a half ago. I still tear up if I let myself think about her for too long, and I know Molly is going to be a wreck over losing Kahlua for a long time to come. I still miss the two young huskies I ran my first winter on the runners and wonder about their life now that they are four years old and working full time on a trap-line in the Brooks Range. And I know when the time comes to find Norrin a permanent working home, it is going to be so hard to let him go. These dogs work their way into our hearts and our lives, and we are better for them, and grateful to them for what they bring and what they teach us. The ever present corollary is that losing dogs is hard, harder when pets die unexpectedly, but also hard when dogs we build working relationships with go on to other things, or when fosters we love on and work with find a perfect home that isn't ours. Better though, always, to have had them in our lives.