"You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed." - Antoine de Saint-Exupery, The Little Prince

Friday evening, I finished evening chores and was looking forward to relaxing. I showered early and slipped into new pajamas I recently bought when the dog yard erupted.

I ran outside to find my beloved Big Brown - B.B. - in the midst of a grand mal seizure. A mean-looking storm was brewing on the horizon. It was exactly seven years ago that she had one isolated seizure, at this same time of year in the same weather conditions. Otherwise B.B. has lived a healthy happy life. She has been my main gee haw leader and run every race with me since 2009. This month, she and her sister, Ruffian, turn 10.

B.B. (driver's right, spots) and her sister Ruffian (driver's left, white) leading the team during the Tahquamenon Country Sled Dog Race

The other dogs barked incessantly as she writhed and convulsed on the ground. I knelt down beside her, talking quietly. Even though those afflicted with grand mal seizures lose consciousness during the seizure, I still hoped my voice would calm her. Finally she came out of it. Once the clarity of recognition and consciousness came back in her eyes, I picked her up, carrying her slowly into the house.

The team returning from a training run

Once inside, I hoped the seizure would be an isolated incident, but almost as quickly as I put her on the sofa, her legs began paddling again as if swimming, her face twitched and her mouth bared teeth in an eerie grimace. Drool foamed into a white froth from her mouth, and she urinated on herself. Her head turned involuntarily to the side and looked like it would spin completely around. This time, the seizure lasted longer.

Once it stopped, B.B. looked mildly surprised to find me cradling her on the sofa. She drank some water and shivered slightly; she looked exhausted. I hoped for a reprieve, but like waves, another seizure crashed in on us, and I held her so she wouldn't hurt herself from thrashing. Again, I hoped this was the last.

B.B. had eight seizures in 30 minutes.

On the ninth, when she hadn't come out of it in a few solid minutes, I gathered her up, still in my pajamas, and began the 40 minute drive to Metropolitan Veterinary Hospital, the 24 hour emergency vet clinic. In the car, she seized violently, continuously for the entire ride. This is called a status epilepticus, and requires immediate emergency care.

If you have not seen a grand mal seizure, let me tell you, it's terrifying. It's easy to understand why, during Medieval and Renaissance times, those afflicted by epilepsy were thought to be possessed by demons. B.B. writhed, the demon that gripped her forcing her mouth open, showing her impressive canine teeth. Drool frothed from her mouth, her eyes twitched back and forth; she urinated on herself again. I felt helpless and honestly feared she might die before we made it to the ER.

Finally, I zoomed into the driveway, picking her up into my arms and ran through the doorway of the animal hospital. It was 10:30 p.m. A code was called and a team of medical professionals rushed toward me from different doorways and took B.B. from me. I ran after and one of them said "Permission to cath?"

"Of course!" I said. They told me I wasn't allowed into the ICU. I stood even more helpless in the hospital and finally broke down in tears.

B.B. greets a participant at one of our presentations this past March at Green Elementary in Logan Ohio

I purchased B.B. in April of 2009. She was nine months old, and I had no clue that she would blossom into the best lead dog I've had the pleasure of growing with. B.B. is also my education dog. She travels to schools and libraries across the state talking about dog sledding and the history of the Iditarod, meeting hundreds of children in her lifetime. Kids are B.B.'s favorite humans.

B.B. looks out over the entire student body of Green Elementary this past March

Because of their athleticism, most Alaskan huskies live extraordinarily long lives for larger dogs. A dog who was my original education dog and came from Eagle, Alaska lived two months shy of her 18th birthday! Although B.B. is retired now from racing at 10 years, she still had a lot of years left for puppy training, education with kids, and as a hiking buddy. I couldn't imagine life without her.

All of these things scanned through my mind as I waited in the small exam room at the emergency vet. I watched the clock close in on midnight, when finally, Dr. Fox entered the room. She said the medical team managed to stabilize B.B. with Valium and some I.V. fluids.

"Did you happen to take her temperature when you were at home?" she asked.

"No," I responded. To be honest, I didn't even think about that.

Dr. Fox's face looked serious. "B.B.'s temperature on admittance was 103.8. 105 is the cut off where we start to get concerned about brain damage from fever."

That explained the shivering.

Turns out, fever is a symptom of persistent seizures according to Dr. Fox. Unfortunately, the fever is an indication of brain inflammation. I was so relieved I decided to bring her in when I did.

Dr. Fox went on to say that it's uncommon for older dogs to have acute "cluster" seizures without a serious underlying cause, like liver or kidney disease or even brain cancer. Despite having one seizure in 2011, Dr. Fox felt she did not have a history of seizure activity. She wanted to do an MRI, but that would cost $5,000 or more, and to what end? If I discovered B.B. had a brain tumor, I wouldn't elect to do chemotherapy.

We decided on a conservative medical plan that included an overnight stay for observation, lots of blood work to check liver and kidney function and, if there were no more seizures, I could pick her up by 10 the next morning.

I asked if I could see B.B. before leaving, and a vet tech led me through a series of doors into the ICU. Six cats sat in separate cages, and several dogs, including B.B. were along the back wall. B.B. was slumped in a stall covered in a blanket. I crawled into her enclosure and sat cross-legged on the floor with her. Her eyes brightened for a second and she lifted her head to look at me, then dropped it again, doped up on Valium.

"Hi, B.B." I said, trying to sound cheerful. "This is just like a checkpoint camp out. You even have a blankie!"

She raised her eyes to look up at me through her lids, then fell away again in repose. I felt so scared for her, but didn't want to let her know, so I kept my voice as cheery and up beat as possible.

This is all new territory for me. For having dogs all my life from the show ring to the starting chute of races, my dogs have all been relatively low maintenance and healthy. Navigating this terrain left me feeling helpless and ignorant to dealing with real health issues.

The next morning, I called the vet and was relieved to hear she didn't have anymore seizure activity overnight. I arrived at 9:45 to pick B.B. up, and as a tech walked her out into the lobby, I could see she wasn't quite herself. She was "wobbly" and seemed almost a bit drunk. She ran into the glass of the door as we attempted to leave. Apparently this "drunk-like" state is normal after a seizure. All of B.B.'s labs and blood work came back completely normal, however - a good sign. We left the hospital with a script for an anti-seizure medication called Keppra (Levetiracetam), which is also commonly used to treat seizure disorders in humans.

My daughter, Sophie, and B.B. at Green Elementary for our dogsledding presentation in March

Here's what I've learned so far.

There are three main phases of a tonic-clonic or "grand mal" (a term that's not frequently used anymore) seizure: the aura, ictus, and postictal state.

In the aura phase, there are marked behavioral changes in a dog, and the dog may become aware that something isn't right. They may act lethargic or nervous, may hide, whine, cling to the owner, shiver or salivate.

In the ictus phase, the actual seizure takes place. All of the muscles of the body contract, and the dog loses consciousness. Other symptoms include violent paddling of the legs as if swimming, grimacing or showing teeth, dilated pupils with a fixed stare, drooling, urinating, defecating and, in B.B.'s case, turning her head in an owl-like attempt at a 180 turn, and involuntary biting anything that approached her mouth.

In the postictal phase, there is often confusion, lethargy, disorientation, restlessness, and can even include temporary blindness.

When we returned home, unfortunately, B.B. had three more seizures that afternoon and one in the middle of Saturday night. Apparently it takes awhile for the proper amount of medication to build up in her system to effectively stop the seizures. So far, there were no seizures for Sunday and as of this writing.

B.B. resting in bed with me on Sunday

If you have experience with canine seizures and know of any homeopathic remedies or any other information that might be beneficial, I am reading voraciously about anything I can and would love for you to reach out. Please send your ideas, links or helpful tips to the comments section below! Thank you!

We're Expecting!

It's been a hot summer, and the dogs have been enjoying their time off with lots of free runs, play time and romps in the kitty pool at the Ranch. We are counting down the days until fall training starts (only about six weeks now!) but before training starts, we are counting the days for something even more exciting: puppies!

It has been three years since Diamond Dogs have had babies, and I decided it was time to expand the kennel once again. I am super excited about the gene pool chosen! 

Cinder, who is 4 years old, came to Diamond Dogs late in the 2012 season but quickly proved herself an amazing athlete. Though she had been off training for about six weeks when I acquired her, she jumped right in with the team, started running and never looked back. She ran lead with my gee/haw leader, Yeti and ran the Midnight Run that season. Last season she ran in the Tahquamenon Sled Dog Race and The Midnight Run. She is a beauty to watch run: smooth, straight gait, and light on her feet, she makes loping look effortless. What's more, she always has a smile on her face and gives everything she has on the line.

Cinder this past spring

Cinder's bloodlines are pretty sweet. Her dad, Hobo, is out of Iditarod and Yukon Quest champ, Lance Mackey's kennel. And her mom, Bruny, is out of Beargrease Marathon veteran, John Stetson's kennel. 

I put a lot of thought into choosing a stud. Despite Cinder's bloodlines, which are primarily distance dogs, she is fast. But I wanted a male who could contribute an added element of speed, preferably one who was a lead dog. After talking with a few mushers, I decided to add the speed of Swingley into Cinder's solid endurance lines. The natural choice was Pete and Sharon Curtice's Elrond. 

Elrond has been a natural leader for the Curtice's kennel since he was a yearling. He was on their winning Midnight Run team in 2006 as a yearling, and ran lead on their 2nd place Beargrease 150 race. And his genetics are impressive. Elrond's mom is leader, Hurricane; his dad is  Ceasar who was also a leader (both Swingley origins). It is interesting to note Elrond is also the grandfather to my last litter, the Reggae Litter. 

I made a quick trip up to visit the Curtice's over Memorial Day weekend where Cinder had a date with Elrond. She should be due around July 26th. She is starting to show, and Elise is super excited to help with puppy socialization. 

Elise helping pose Cinder for a photo

We will be at the Green Branch Library tomorrow, July 9, at 1 and 3 p.m. for a presentation of Backyard Iditarod. If you're in the area, stop by! Hopefully my next post will be about tiny little toes!

"We all have our time machines. Some take us back, they're called memories. Some take us forward, they're called dreams." Jeremy Irons

We leave Thursday for our final race of the season, the Copper Dog, in Calumet, Michigan - a gorgeous part of Michigan known as "Copper Country." It was once a hub for copper mining; at one time, this area produced over half of the nation's copper. It is part of the Keweenaw Peninsula, which is a beautiful and remote area of Michigan that juts out into Lake Superior.

It is the longest distance we travel for a race at over 750 miles away. There are two races: a 10-dog, 150 mile race in three stages, and a 6-dog, 40-some mile race in one stage. We are doing the 40 mile race. Both races start at night.

Sometimes, I think I am crazy. I train these dogs for hours and hours (we have 850 miles on the team as of this writing), only to drive for hundreds of miles to races to put the dogs on the ground and drive them for several more miles. But, dreams can make us crazy, and sometimes we do crazy things in pursuit of dreams. Part of being free is having the ability to pursue "crazy" dreams - even if they don't entirely make sense. "Freedom is just another word for nothin' left to lose" said the late great Janis Joplin...

This morning I spent some time thinking about which dogs will race on the Copper Dog team. Here is the line up:

As always, my trusted leaders, sisters Big Brown and Ruffian will lead the way through the darkness.

Big Brown, only 38 pounds but the best little lead dog anyone could ask for

Big Brown's intense sister, Ruffian. She is the get-up-and-go. If we go too slow, she barks at the team to "Giddy up!"

In point position behind the lead dogs, I have chosen Fiona and Dirk. 

Two-year-old Dirk is an up-and-coming leader with a ton of drive and potential. All the boys hate him because he is handsome and all the girls adore him. His nickname is "Dirk the Jerk" because of it

Sweet Fiona has run such legendary races as the John Beargrease Marathon. She is tireless and just getting warmed up after 20 miles 

And rounding out our six dog team, in wheel position are brothers, Tosh and Perry.

Tosh after the Midnight Run last week. Tosh is a super sweet, sensitive two-year-old boy who is  also an up-and-coming leader

Tosh's brother, Perry, is also super sweet and sensitive and is my biggest dog on the team. At about 58 pounds, Perry is a very hard worker who brings a lot of muscle and power to the team

And I am bringing one extra dog, Cinder, just so I have an extra dog in case I change my mind for whatever reason come race time.

Cinder is also only three, but has a lot of drive and is whip-smart

We leave on Thursday after a Skype session I have scheduled for an elementary school in Roaring Brook, New York. It's hard to believe this will be our last race of the season! Our race will end sometime late Friday night/early Saturday morning. We have trained harder this season than ever before. I hate to see it end, but hope we end on a happy note! I plan to spend the weekend helping out other teams at the race and shooting photos of beautiful Copper Harbor. Stay tuned and you can follow our results on the Copper Dog site or on our Facebook page.

Mush love!
Shannon and the Diamond Dogs

Backyard Iditarod at the Portage Lakes Library: a photo album

Foxy loves babies!


After running 960 miles of the Yukon Quest in single lead for Wayne Hall in 2002, Foxy becomes a bit reluctant for me use her to demonstrate how to harness a sled dog!


Foxy loves all the attention she gets at our talks. She goes up and down the rows of chairs visiting the patrons for pets and hugs


Next stop for dogs at the library: December 14th at Firestone Park Library, 7 p.m.!

The "Backyard Iditarod" comes to the Tallmadge Branch Library

Foxy and I had our first dog sledding presentation of the season today at the Tallmadge Library! It was a great way to kick off fall, and the weather followed suit with a chilly rain.

Fourteen-year-old Foxy really enjoys our outings. It gives her a job to do, and she adores all the attention from the kids in the audience.


Foxy feelin' the love from the audience at the library talk today

Recently, Foxy gave us quite a scare.

I came home from work one day a couple weeks ago to find Foxy stumbling. She fell four times heading for the back door; I had to carry her in all of her 65 pounds outside to use the bathroom. Her head was tilted, and her eyes were doing a quick back-and-forth movement, called nystagmus. She was also drooling and walking in circles - all signs of a stroke, or so I thought.

I rushed her to our vet's office. She went reluctantly. Even though she could hardly walk, she still strongly refused to enter the vet's office willingly. I was relieved when Dr. Wittington said she had something called Canine Vestibular Syndrome, a relatively common thing that affects elderly dogs. It is idiopathic in Foxy, meaning we don't know what caused it. Her ears were fine; there was no sign of infection or mites. So we went home to wait it out.

Sure enough, within a few days, Foxy was back to normal, trotting along the puppy paths at the Ranch! We are so thankful!


Foxy and me at the Tallmadge Library

In other news, nothing says "I need a four-wheeler" quite like this bruise!



Six crazy dogs + one 80 pound cart and me = suicide mission #562!

Yes, it's true. I hooked up six dogs to my little cart. We took a corner quite sharp at the end of one of our dirty, country roads, and my leg collided with the post of a stop sign going six-dog-power forward. Lemme tell ya, it ain't pretty! And it's turning deeper shades of purple and blue as I type. OUCH! My dogs heard some extra colorful words coming out of my mouth on that run!

But, I have to remind myself of the words of my friend, Jim Warren.

Jim told me two things a few winters ago as I ran his dogs.

1. They're only dogs doing dog things. Be sure your expectations of them aren't too high because, after all, they're only dogs.

2. Mushing teaches the best of all skills: triumph in the face of adversity. No matter what life or nature throws at a musher, a good musher will pick up and carry on.

After a few brightly colored words and a brief pause, I lifted the brake on my little cart, hupped the dogs, and away we went following the setting sun.