Dog Profiles: Willow

After reaching the 3-dog mark, things were pretty quiet for awhile. The dogs were learning how to be a team and I was learning how to be a musher. As Denali and Knox matured and got faster, I could see that Dexter’s interest was fading. I knew I wanted to keep mushing, so I started thinking about dog number four.

There was a second litter planned between Denali’s parents and I was excited by the prospect of owning another well-bred, easy to manage dog. Sadly, the breeding didn’t work out, but I was given the next best thing—an opportunity for a pup bred out of Mia, Denali’s sister. 

Mia and Denali are very similar. They’re great leaders and both have boss bitch attitudes. I didn’t know much about the litter’s sire (Merlin out of Kelim Siberian Huskies), but I trusted they’d make great offspring.

Willow (originally “Snow”) was born June 10th, 2015. I was told I had first pick of the girls after the breeder made her choice. I knew right from day one that I wanted the oddball with the mismatched ears. 

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Two months later, Willow was ready to join my pack. My cousin and I piled into my SUV with Denali and drove up north to camp in New Hampshire for the weekend, with plans to nab the pup on our return drive. We hiked the Franconia Ridge Traverse that Saturday—a hike that truly destroyed our asses. The next morning we packed up camp and headed to Sibersong, where Willow was freshly bathed and waiting. (I wish I could say the same for us.)

Denali was very confused by this new little girl, encroaching on her all-dude pack. It must have been very stressful for little Willy—her mom looked almost identical to Denali and yet this new, strange dog gave her nothing but grief.

Despite the rocky beginning, Denali learned to tolerate Willow’s presence. Knox, on the other hand, was thrilled to have a pup around that was willing to play with him and wasn’t Dexter. 

My first run with Willow on the team was magical. I had never run four dogs before, and her presence even seemed to give Dexter a boost. Each dog ran better with a partner at their side. Denali was more focused in lead with Knox and Dexter was less intimidated by his female running mate.

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It wasn’t long before I bumped Willy up to the lead position with Denali. She’s fast, smart, and intense—and runs in perfect unison with Denali. She’s every bit the rockstar sled dog I wanted, with the added bonus of being a really sweet pet.

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If an evil Disney-style witch turned me into a dog, I’m 100% sure I would be Willow. She’s a serious worker when there’s a job to be done, but take the harness off and she’s a lovable weirdo with a tendency to expose herself.

She can be a bit nervous, though, especially around strange men. (A girl after my own heart.) She doesn’t like to be squeezed and gets a bit anxious if you try and hold her—same. After all, she’s the smallest one in my pack, weighing in at a whopping 38 pounds. 

People often ask me if I have a favorite dog, which is hard to answer (other than “not Dexter”). I’d definitely take a dozen more Willows, though.

Dog Profiles: Knoxville

My plan was to adopt, buy, adopt, buy, and so on with my dogs. Knoxville isn’t a total disaster or anything, but I don’t think I’ll be adopting any more puppies in the future. There's definitely something to be said about sound, well-bred working dogs.

Knox started out as a tiny cotton ball of a pup. I found him on Petfinder, when I knew I wanted to keep growing my little 2-dog bikejor team into something more. He’s just six months younger than Denali, but they couldn’t be more different. They both love to run and to kill, but the similarities end there.

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When I brought Knox (originally named "Keiko") home, his paperwork said he was around 8-weeks-old, but it didn’t sit right with me. He seemed much too small for the date given as his estimated birthday. I was seriously worried he was half Pomeranian and considered returning him to the rescue. After consulting a few breeder friends, they concluded he was probably closer to 6-weeks-old, which explained his size and how difficult he was to train. (He liked running across my couches while peeing.)

From tiny teddy bear, Knox morphed into an awkward llama before he finally grew out his guard hairs and became the magnificent beast he is today. Since adopting him, I’ve found a handful of other huskies that look suspiciously similar—all from the southern United States. My guess is that someone is breeding up these crazy, woolly, agouti Siberians because they look cool, without much consideration for their temperament or physical health.

Knox does look cool. People have stopped us on hikes to take selfies with him. But he’s got some behavioral issues I would’ve liked to avoid. He plays rough and a lot of dogs are intimidated by his bite-your-butt-and-roar move (sorry, Strudel). He resource-guards and hoards everything (mostly from Dexter, he doesn’t care that much about the other huskies). He wedges himself under chairs and tables and into small spaces… for whatever reason. Out of all my dogs, his personality is closest to the wolves I volunteered with at Howling Woods Farm. I don’t think he has an ounce of wolf in him, to be clear. He’s just always been a bit of a recluse. He’s currently outside alone while the other five are curled up tight around me.

Despite how beautiful his fur looks, it’s actually a bit of a nightmare to deal with. It mats up if I don’t brush it often, and of course, he hates to be brushed. In the winter, I have to wax his paws to avoid snowball buildup during our runs. Whoever bred him didn’t have mushing in mind. That said, he’s been a solid sled dog. He isn’t cut out to lead, but he’s a strong and steady follower. The colder and more miserable the weather, the more he loves it.

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In our early years as a 3-dog team, I had a bit of trouble with Knox passing other teams. He would bark and lunge, though he never actually made contact with another dog. The one time we did get tangled with another team, he stood there silently and didn’t make a move—so I think he's all bark and no bite. I pulled Dexter from the “race team” (due to his own, er, inadequacies) and went back to bikejoring with the huskies and Knox’s attitude changed completely. Ever since, he’s been able to walk by teams to get to the race chute and pass on the trail without issue. I’m not sure what psychological drama went down between Knox and Dex, but I'm glad I'm learning how to manage it.

I spoke in a previous post about Knox’s future as part of our team. Since he wasn’t bred for this, I wonder how long he’ll keep up. He’s more prone to foot injuries and overheating, and it’s hard to say how much his weird structure affects his running (he’s got sort of a German Shepherd hunch under all that fur). I’ll let him decide when he’s ready to retire, but I hope that’s many years away.

Dog Profiles: Denali

It took a bit of time before I found my first true sled dog. The mushers of the Jersey Sands Sled Dog Racing Association were able to give me both experience and referrals. Combined with my volunteer work, I finally had the “northern breed experience” I needed. Now I just had to find a reputable breeder with a litter planned.

Sadly, finding a good dog breeder isn’t easy. Most people breed dogs because they like their dogs or the breed. Not because they’re knowledgeable about genetics or care to improve the breed as a whole. I didn't want a frumpy pup from unproven parents—I didn't even want a dog that fit the typical show standard. I wanted a dog that was built to run. (I won’t even get into the world of pet stores and puppy mills, since I know to avoid them.)

Eventually, I found Jaye of Sibersong, based out of New Hampshire. Her huskies were leggy, muscular, and athletic. The races she competed in further proved their health and abilities. Out of her entire kennel, two dogs stood out to me—Weyekin and Tristan. Oddly enough, a litter was planned between the two, and a NJ mushing friend was able to connect me with Jaye as a trusted buyer.

On March 10th, 2011 Denali (then “Summer”) and her siblings were born. When she was only a few weeks old, her mother picked her up and managed to cut her face, near her eyelid. She’s had a scar there ever since, but it doesn’t affect her vision or bother her at all.

In late May, I drove up to New Hampshire with my then-boyfriend to scoop up my new puppy. I think we went fishing before heading to Jaye's kennel the following morning. Even though it was already late May, it was still cool out and she was able to take us for a run with her team—on the back of an ATV. It was exhilarating to be around so many sled dogs and to be trusted to help handle them. It must’ve been obvious I barely knew what I was doing at the time. I only had Dexter and a bike back at home.

After the run, we met the puppies. I had two to pick from, but I always knew the bi-eyed, scar-faced pup would be the one I chose.

Denali was perfectly well behaved on the seven hour drive back home. Dexter loved her immediately. She was a no-nonsense dog from the start. I barely remember her as a puppy because she was so smart and well-mannered, but she still liked to wrestle.

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Denali grew up in the blink of an eye. When she was old enough to run, it clicked with her right away. She learned commands by following Dexter and soon she was the one leading him. 

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As I added dogs to the team, Denali somewhat faded into the background—not because she isn’t great, but because she requires very little effort. She remains a strong leader, like many of her siblings and relatives. She has ran in ten races (some sanctioned, others just "fun runs") and has always done beautifully when competing.

Her love for running is only matched by her love of hunting small animals, which is really her only bad habit. When she isn’t running or hunting, she’s snoozing or policing the younger dogs. Or demanding pets from whatever human is nearby. 

She’s the closest thing I have to a full-time handler—she just has four legs instead of two.

Dog Profiles: Dexter

The holidays always conjure up feelings of nostalgia. It's my final week in New Jersey. Between spending time with family and friends, I’ve been reflecting a lot about the last decade and how dogs have changed things. As we're about to embark on a new chapter (lol dog joke), it feels like the appropriate time to reintroduce the dogs.

Let’s start with oldest; Dexter.

Dexter is the only non-husky in the bunch. He sticks out like a sore, smelly thumb. He isn’t a bad dog, but I learned a lot about what I don’t want in a dog through owning him. I’m still not sure what he is (if someone wants to spring for a DNA test, lemme know), but I’m guessing there’s some lab or hound in there. Whatever he is, he loves eating, pissing, and being obsessively close to me. 

I adopted Dexter with my college boyfriend. I knew, even then (2008), that I wanted a husky. Not a single husky rescue would even consider us and, in hindsight, I don’t blame them. On paper, we were a terrible fit for a high energy breed. We were in our early 20s, renting an apartment with barely any yard (no fence), taking classes all day, barely employed, and lacking northern breed experience. (This lead me to volunteer for Tails of the Tundra and Howling Woods Farms, but that’s a different story.) They had no way of knowing I’m a batshit dog lady.

We eventually found puppy Dexter (then “Cody”) on Petfinder and decided to apply. He was listed as an Australian Cattle Dog, which he almost certainly is not, but some of his siblings did bear the black and white freckled coat. I suspect his mom was a hussy, carrying pups from two separate dads. 

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His foster family agreed to let us meet him, and after talking to me, they realized I could handle the responsibility. A few days later, Dexter ate a bee and was stung in the face. Later that day, we brought him home.

Dexter was an only-dog for three solid years, but we spent many evenings at the dog park near our campus. We learned his favorite breed of dog was the pug and that he preferred peeing on things (and people) more than running around. But he ran around, too.

I started training Dexter to mush in 2010. I bought a bikejoring attachment (the kind that let him run alongside the bike at first) and an x-back harness. He learned commands on our hikes. By the time Denali entered the picture, he was able to help train her. We made a sweet little bikejoring trio.

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Dexter had a few good years of mushing, to the best of his ability. He was fast and strong, but only when he wanted to be. He wasn't great in races, since he had to say hello to every dog we (tried to) pass. 

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Shortly after Denali, Knox joined the team and we expanded to using a dryland cart and wooden dog sled. A few years later, I brought Willow aboard. As the huskies matured and became solid sled dogs, it got more and more difficult for Dexter to keep up. He hated to be left behind and still screamed at hookup, so I kept bringing him. But after a few minutes of running, he’d slow us down dramatically. That was OK though—as long as he kept up, I didn’t mind going his pace. 

In the Fall of 2016, Dex finally called it quits. He was 8-years-old at this point, which is on the young side for a sled dog to retire, but Dex isn’t really a sled dog. The team had gotten much too fast for him, and instead of trying to keep up, he pumped the brakes.

It was a sad day for me. Running a 4-dog team was such a delight, even if we were going really slow. Willow had just joined the team in early 2016 and the whole pack ran with more confidence when I had them in pairs. I wasn’t sure what to do next. (Obviously, I quickly rectified the situation when I found Blitz, but again, that’s another story.)

One of Dexter's final runs with the team.

For the past year, Dexter has enjoyed the benefits of not having to do much of anything. He’s my only dog with any guardian instincts, so his only “work” has been to guard the van while I’m out on the trail. (He barks menacingly if anyone comes close.) Since Hubble has joined us, he also serves as a decent pup-sitter.

In the summer, Dexter will be 10-years-old. It's a pretty big milestone for us both. 

Musher's Guilt

In the tri-state area, mushing season usually begins sometime in late September and ends in March or April. Sometimes we’re lucky and we get a few random cold days in late August or into May—but those are not the norm. More frequent are the long stints of October where summer heat returns and training is sporadic. Things usually don’t get into a groove until November. 

Then comes December. It's always a chaotic month. Work gets busy as we try to wrap up the year’s projects and cram everything into three weeks. Every weekend is devoted to holiday parties with friends or family. This year we’ve had random snow storms—of course, because my sled is currently in Big Bear, CA—and random warmups (it's supposed to be 60 degrees this weekend). I also fell off my rig and needed a few days to recoup. This all culminates in just a few runs so far this month and it's bumming me out.

I should note that unlike many of my musher friends, I am not training for a major race. I do set a mileage goal each season. Last year we reached (and surpassed) 200 miles; this year I hope to reach 300—but this is mostly for my own amusement. It keeps me motivated on those below freezing mornings when I'd rather stay in bed. It forces me to make the most out of the precious months we have to run.

We quickly hit the 100 mile mark this season, but things have slowed down. I have this ongoing guilt about it, as if I shouldn’t have so many dogs if I’m not running them at least three or four times a week. As I write this, they’re all comfortably snoozing around me. They’re happy and I should probably chill out.

Big Bear may not be as cold and snowy as the Northeast, but it’s way more consistent. Generally, we start running when temperatures are under 60 degrees with low humidity (many use the formula temperature + humidity < 100, you’re good to run). The sweet spot only really lasts a few months in the east, but the higher altitudes of SoCal seem devoid of humidity, with average lows in the 40s and 50s even in July. If I’m able to pull off night runs, this could mean mushing year-round. 

So, for now, I won’t beat myself up. It’s time to enjoy friends and family while I’m still here. 

Ramblin' Ma'am

I keep meaning to write up a new post. There’s plenty of topics I want to write about, or experiences in training I want to share, but my time has been especially limited. As we enter the holiday mania I mean season, I figured I better take a moment and write some things down.

Hubble has been with us for a month now. He’s been an interesting puppy so far. He’s a lot more mischievous than Blitz and Willow. I think those two spoiled me with how easy they were to house train and crate train. Hub made it known that he did not want to sleep in a crate while everyone else piled on the bed. He isn’t too eager to hold his bowels so that’s what he gets. Things have improved drastically over the first few weeks, but something so much as switching up the crate—he’s in a plastic airline style crate while my other crates are packed—is enough to make him howl all night.

Despite all the pee accidents and late nights, I can tell he’s got a really sweet disposition. He’s also the only dog I’ve ever had that chases after the vacuum and tries to bite it, so I expect him to be pretty fearless as he matures. I was a little worried he wouldn’t get along with Blitz (he was the only one to show obvious displeasure in Hub’s arrival), but they’re becoming best buds:

Aside from raising a new puppy, mushing enough mornings to reach the 100-mile mark fairly early, and working a full-time job, I’ve spent the past month preparing for our journey west. My life has been reduced to about a dozen boxes and bags stuffed into my SUV, which will be used to haul an enclosed trailer with Will's belongings. He makes the first jaunt next week, then returns in January to make the final trip with me in our vans—hauling a car and stuffed to the brim.

As of ten minutes ago, I decided I want to video log (video blog? vlog? what do the kids call it) the trip west, as well as the fist few weeks of settling in Big Bear. I won’t make any promises as to consistency or quality, but stay tuned for that… experience. 

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Let Me Explain...

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Just when you thought I was done adding dogs—aw shit! Meet Hubble. Okay, yes, I know. I’ve been working towards a solid 4-dog team and Blitz filled Dexter’s spot. The team is doing great and I’m very happy with all the progress we’ve made. 

Except… two things have been on my mind.

The first is planning for the future—maintaining this hobby (obsession) for the years to come. I don’t know where the years have gone, but Denali will be 7-years-old in March. Knox will hit seven six months after that. While I’m confident Denali will run into her double-digits, I’m not sure Knox will keep up. As a structurally weird rescue dog, I’m thankful for every day he runs. Still, this means I have roughly three more years with the current team. If I’m lucky, Denali and Knox will keep running into their teens, but it’s hard to know for sure. In order to keep running a full team, there will need to be new dogs to take their place upon retirement.

Second is a goal that I’ve mostly kept to myself since I started mushing, because it sounded crazy. Before I even got my first husky, I asked a friend how many dogs were needed to successfully carry a passenger on a cart or sled. She recommended at least six and that number has stayed in the back of my mind ever since. As I added dogs, the thought of having six seemed wild, so I kept that goal a secret. It became a dream for later, when I was “grown up” enough to manage it and to afford it.

Several years into this sport, I find myself wondering what I’m waiting for. I’ve adjusted my entire life around these dogs. I found a remote job so that I can care for them fulltime. I’m moving to a cabin near a trail system with colder temperatures and less humidity year round. I’m getting paid well enough to follow the dreams I set almost a decade ago. I find myself thinking, “Oh shit, am I grown up?"

As I mentioned in thought #1, the window for my current team is closing. If I want to run a 6-dog team, it’s time to get moving. Denali and Knox have three or four seasons left. Willow and Blitzen are young and (hopefully) have a decade ahead of them. Hubble (and whatever dog I add next) will also have around a decade to run. When Denali and Knox retire, I’ll still have a solid 4-dog team for awhile.  

I know, I know. This all sounds like an elaborate scheme to have a ton of dogs, but really, that’s what I’m trying to avoid while still pursuing my dreams. As a recreational musher, I want to cap at six dogs, with at least four in harness. That way, when the oldies retire, I can still keep up my hobby. And when they eventually pass away, I’ll introduce new dogs to the team and fluctuate between four and six actively running.

This mushing algorithm sounds pretty cold, but it comes out of love—for these dogs and for the sport. I don’t intend to go large-scale. My dogs are pets first, sled dogs second. While many are perfectly happy living outdoors, I want my team small enough to live inside and travel with me. I also can’t bear to adopt dogs out to retirement homes—they’re with me until the end.

Ride Along

I finally put together a YouTube channel dedicated solely to the team. Check it out and be sure to subscribe! There's also a link to my old channel under "Featured Channels", if you want to see how far we've come.

Hopefully this will inspire me to bring the GoPro along for more of our adventures, and maybe learn how to use video editing software. Maybe.

Talking Dog at the Trade Fair

Last weekend, the pack and I piled in the van and drove four hours north to the Northern New England Sled Dog Trade Fair and Seminars in New Hampshire. I've been mushing for about seven years now, but never had the chance to attend the trade fair. Realizing this might be my last opporunity if I move west, I decided to make the trip.

This was also the furthest I've ever driven without another human along for the ride. I expect to do a lot of solo traveling in California, so this was a good trial run—just me and the dogs. Four hours (well, more like five with traffic) wasn't a bad drive to do over a long weekend. Hell, I did four hour round trip commutes when I took trains into Manhattan, and that was all in one work day.

The trade fair was a really fun experience and definitely something any beginner should make a point to attend. It's a great place to learn about the sport, stock up on gear, meet experienced mushers, and run your dogs. For more seasoned mushers, it's nice to see familiar faces from throughout the northeastern mushing community. And of course, who doesn't want to talk about dogs for two days straight?

Jaye and Hanky go over harness fitting.

Besides seeing old friends (and meeting internet friends for the first time), my favorite part of the event was the seminars. Jaye of Sibersong (Denali and Willow's breeder) gave a great talk on the mechanics of dog mushing. Even though I'm not new to the sport, I still picked up some useful tips. Lisbet Norris (3-time Iditarod finisher) spoke about her mushing heritage and how her family has preserved the function and appearance of the Siberian Husky in Alaska for over sixty years. I might have teared up several times during her talk. My favorite seminar was by Charles J. Berger. He spoke about "the big bang through chihuahuas", and basically wrapped my two favorite subjects (evolutionary science and dogs) into a beautiful presentation. Unexpected and delightful.

There was plenty of dog talk, dog gear, and dog friends to occupy my time, but I can't forget the dogs themselves. Aside from being a little bit overexcited to see other dogs while on the dropline, they were easy to manage and faired well in the cold, rainy weather. I walked the purebreds around the trade show and had them visit with their breeders (Blitz's reunion was especially sweet). We even got to do a quick training run with some Sibersong relatives and their musher, Megan, on Saturday and competed in a dryland fun race on Sunday.

Photo snapped by Steve Renner of Team Snowspeeder

The most surprising part of our race was how well the dogs passed another team. They've always been good about getting to the race chute and returning to their dropline afterwards, but passing during a run has been hit or miss. I was especially curious to see how Blitz would do, since he's never ran a race before—or even trained alongside other teams. I think he must have been the missing piece of the puzzle, because he and Knox (who is prone to being a jerkoff) passed flawlessly. I hope I don't jinx it, but I couldn't be happier with how they did. We got third place behind two very speedy Alaskan Husky teams, completing a 0.8 mile trail in 2 minutes and 43 seconds.

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We're back home now and picking back up with fall training. We have plans to head back up to New Hampshire later in the month (or beginning of next, not sure yet) to attend a camping weekend with some of the same mushers from the trade show. I've got a lot of big plans in store for the remainder of this year and beginning of next, so stay tuned for what will (hopefully) be our most interesting season yet.

Two Miles Down

The first run of our season is complete—put it in the books. Mid-August is definitely the earliest we've ever run and the temperatures are just barely there. I woke up at 4 AM to get to a new trail just before 5 AM. It was in the mid-50s in the woods (according to my temperature gauge) but the humidity was rolling in fast, so we kept things short.

Mostly, I was excited to find a rail trail 25 minutes from the Pawling house, with lots of level dirt and gravel. I can squeeze out almost eight miles total in this spot, though we started with a quick 2.4 miler this morning.

The next few weeks look relatively warm (and I'm taking a quick camping trip up to Maine next weekend) so I doubt we'll log any more miles until September. In the meantime, I'm enjoying the calm that only comes after a solid morning run.

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