"...and miles to go before I sleep." - Robert Frost

She walks gingerly through the grass, picking her feet up high in a sort of prance, as if the grass contains some substance she detests. She lifts her long slender legs, exposing the shaved ring around her left forearm which betrays her gallant attempt to pretend all is well. That ring tells a story; it hasn't been too long since that horrible night of relentless seizures I thought would kill her. The discharge papers from the hospital said status epilepticus.

That night, as I carried her convulsing body into the hospital, a tech ran toward me.

"Permission to cath?" the tech yelled to me over the chaos. She wanted permission to place an IV line.

Life for Big Brown - B.B. - would change irrevocably that night.

"Yes! Of course!" I yelled back.

We returned home with Keppra, an anti-epileptic medication B.B. would take for the rest of her life, and questions, mainly, why? Why would a 10-year-old dog suddenly have violent grand mal seizures? My suspicions were that things were not good.

Since that night we've returned for more tests and x-rays in a more controlled, less acute and chaotic climate, and my suspicions were confirmed. I've put off writing this post because somehow I thought if I didn't write it, it wouldn't be reality. But it is reality.

B.B. has always been thin, and for a sled dog, a finicky eater. But her weight has held consistent her whole life at 38 pounds. This day, the scales revealed she'd lost five pounds in just 13 days.

Dr. Kaegi met me in the dark x-ray room. 

"Can you see anything?" I asked. 

"Yes," she said as she flipped the lights off "and unfortunately, just as we suspected, it's not good." 

On the screen were two films, one clearly showing B.B.'s ribcage, heart, and trachea illuminated from behind, and the other of her gut. She's had relentless diarrhea since this whole thing started despite my best efforts to alleviate it with over-the-counter remedies, so we elected to take x-rays of her gut to get a clear picture of what's going on inside. 

On the film on the right, in front of the iridescence of florescent light, beside the darkish mass of B.B.'s heart was another, darker mass. This dark mass, a dull cloud in an otherwise normal film, was home to rampant and unchecked cell division. Cells gone to the dark side and run amok. I pictured them as wild, unkempt, unruly children laughing manically. It was undeniable and evident even to an untrained eye.

Cancer.

The film showed three small metastases or "mets" within B.B.'s lungs. About 20 months ago, I discovered a small, quarter-sized lump on her chest. I promptly had it removed within a week of discovery, with clean margins that I'd hoped meant cancer would be gone forever. Breast cancer metastasizes to two places, primarily: the lungs and the brain. 

In the nine days since learning this news, my focus has been on comfort care. We left that office visit with more drugs and probiotics, and I've kept beef, chicken and rice stocked in the kitchen to whet B.B.'s palate. She has good days and not so good days. On good days, she prances in the grass in what's become her trademark high-stepping stride. She eats heartily and goes for car rides. On not-so-good days, she quivers on the sofa, seemingly cold, but simultaneously panting and drooling. On good days, the light is in her eyes and she smiles. On not-so-good days, she seems disoriented, confused, and sleeps a lot.

This last winter, I took B.B. and four other dogs one what would be her last sled run. Of course, I didn't know it at the time. I wonder now if those mutant cells were working to proliferate even then.

As she pranced through the grass today, it struck me that these are the final days of her life. But then I remember what an extraordinary life she's led.

B.B. has become my main education dog, doing presentations and dog sled demos all over Ohio and into Michigan. In March, B.B. attended her biggest school presentation in Logan, Ohio, meeting and greeting about 500 elementary school students as we presented about dog sledding.

B.B. at a library presentation in 2014

With about 500 students of Green Elementary School in Logan, Ohio

My daughter, Sophie, came over from Ohio University to help with the presentation at Green Elementary

I think of all the dogs I've lost over the years for a variety of reasons: Kahlua, Gracie, Foxie, Gwennie, Thelonious, Mojo, Punk, Feist... and all the dogs I've known, trained and worked with - literally hundreds - over the years, and I don't know if I've spent as many solid hours adventuring and working as I have with Big Brown.

She has been with me on almost every single race I've done in my mushing career from triumphs

 and through adversity.

Over the last 10 years, we have spent hundreds and hundreds of hours in the deep recesses of forests in the midwest hiking, camping, running, and racing. She has helped train young leaders...

And shouldered dogs twice her size into turns.

We have grown together, from our humble beginnings...

Punderson Sled Dog Classic. Photo by Nicolas Skidmore

Taquamenon Sled Dog Race. Photo by Sigurd Utych

to larger races...

Midnight Run. Photo by Aladino Mandoli

Tahquamenon Sled Dog Race. Photo by Aladino Mandoli

Midnight Run. Photo by Nace Hagemann

We've run along the shores of Lake Superior...

in fierce blizzards and storms...

And magical places that look like something out of Narnia.

We've run at night...

Copper Dog. Photo by Brockit

We've run alone in the silence only winter can bring.

We've camped out...

And stayed in...

B.B. has met many people, from tiny ones...

To grown ups ...

To people who cared for her...

With one of our favorite members of the Copper Dog veterinary team

We've loved...

And in the end, that's all that matters, right?

Thinking about losing B.B. is so painful I haven't wanted to write about it. I intermittently become emotional at the strangest times. I think of all the adventures I still wanted with her. I owe my entire racing career to this dog... and she is so much more than "just a dog." Mushers spend more one-on-one hours with their dogs than anyone I know. The bond that develops is so, so deep from those hours spent in the woods.

For now, B.B. sleeps contentedly on the sofa as I type. And we wait, cherishing every moment.

Big Brown's story: this week's featured dog

This week's featured dog doesn't live up to her name at all. See her there, in the picture above, yelling out orders to go? That's Big Brown - BB for short -  and she is neither big or brown. But I didn't name her.

She was named after a race horse, along with her sister, Ruffian (next to her in the above photo) by my good friend, mentor, and horse racing fan, Joann Fortier.

Big Brown at four weeks in 2008

I bought Big Brown and Ruffian from Joann in March of 2009 when they were only 10 months old. She had barely been harness broken with only four runs under her, but from the very minute I met her, I knew she was special. She was clearly very smart, and I loved her outgoing and silly personality. Joann says she gets her silliness from her mom, Odessa.

BB looks at me upside down in her house

Over the last two seasons, I faithfully ran BB in point position, behind the leaders, without thinking much of trying her in lead until this past season. Ruffian was a natural leader, but a little too intense for Yeti, my main leader. Ruffian would bark in his face if he didn't take a turn immediately, and things got to the point where Yeti cowered from Ruffian's intensity.

So, on a whim, I put BB up front with Yeti one training run early last fall. BB looked so small in her 40 pound frame next to a hulking Yeti, who is about 65 pounds. But, suddenly, BB had found her birthright.

I blinked my eyes in wonder as I shot this photo last fall in Michigan, BB holding the line taut and strong in lead. How could I have not seen this before? Without hesitation, right from the first time in lead, she shouldered big Yeti into turns the second I called them out. What's more, she kept a naturally fast pace - far faster than Yeti. Suddenly, I had found my natural "crack" leader. Right in my kennel. (For a detailed description of a "crack" leader - as well as other types of lead dogs, click here.)

Navigating a twisty part of the Tahquamenon trail last winter. Big Brown and Ruffian in lead. Photo by Dino Mandoli

Big Brown blossomed in lead last season. At just three years of age, she led every race I competed in.

Munching on a Cliff bar on the second leg of the Midnight Run last season. BB in lead with Yeti. Photo by Dino Mandoli

Big Brown models her new dog jacket at a race in upstate New York

Big Brown is, paws down, one of the most valuable dogs in my kennel. She is a super leader, super sweet, super smart, and doesn't take up much space :)

On the trail in Michigan with Ruffian and Big Brown in lead

I am looking for a sponsor for Big Brown for the 2012/2013 season. Won't you consider sponsoring a dog?

Happy Birthday, Yeti: Lead Dog Lingo, and What It Takes to be a Leader, Part II

Fall is really the most wonderful time of year. It bombards the senses with the colors, the smells, and the cool crisp morning air. I love fall!

Fall training in the Upper Peninsula outside Nature's Kennel in McMillan, Michigan is especially beautiful.

I recently returned from another trip up north for some training time with the amazing canine athletes I call Team Diamond Dogs. We have logged many miles toward conditioning goals so far this season, and are looking forward to the time when we head back up north.

My team of amazing canine athletes all muscled up on a training run. Oh, how I love and admire them!

See that dark dog up in front of my team? On the right in the photo above?

Here. This is a close up shot of him.

Look at those eyes. Such intelligent, expressive eyes.

These eyes belong to my main squeeze dogger, Yeti. He has been my main leader since he was 10 months old.

Today, Yeti turns four. This blog post is for Yeti, the backbone of my kennel and my main dude.

I wrote last winter about what it takes to be a lead dog. That post is here if you are interested in reading further. 

Yeti began leading long strings of dogs almost as soon as he was in harness. There are several "types" or levels of lead dogs. At that time, Yeti was a natural trail leader - a dog who naturally is comfortable being out in front and getting a team down the trail. He or she doesn't necessarily know commands, but has a knack for leadership and command.

Then there are gee/haw leaders - dogs who mature into knowing commands and following a musher's directions down the trail. This involves high intelligence levels and a keen sense of direction. Gee, in mushing lingo, tells a dog to turn right; haw, subsequently, communicates a left hand turn. There are more commands, but for the purposes of this post, I will focus on these two simple commands.

Yeti has finally graduated into what I would technically call a "gee/haw" leader. He has logged hundreds of miles on the trail in his four short years - enough to confidently follow my commands, even on unfamiliar trails he's never been on before.

Finally, there are crack leaders - dogs who are like power steering to a musher. They will turn on a dime the second a command is called, without hesitation, even if it means driving into an area that looks like there's no trail. Their command and understanding of words is so precise and finely tuned, that some mushers recount tails of driving large teams of dogs through a slalom-type course with crack leaders.

In just a little over three short years in harness, Yeti has mastered many skills. He passes through large areas of standing water without pause, as is illustrated in the video below.



He's raced through crowds of strange people without hesitation. He's learned how to navigate felled logs and unfamiliar trails. And this past summer, he fathered his first litter of future athletes, and, hopefully, lead dogs.

I couldn't put a price on Yeti. He is such a special boy to me. And what's ironic is, he was given to me.

Indeed, Yeti is the best "free" dog I've ever gotten! Happy Birthday, Yeti!

A word about conditioning
Conditioning with the dogs is a lot like people training for a marathon. It takes months to build up the muscle, stamina and endurance needed to compete in races when the snow flies. The beginning part of the fall is spent primarily on muscle-building. We do this through training with a four wheeler.

There are varied training methods and theories. For me, I generally train my dogs in 2nd or 3rd gear on the four wheeler, allowing them to alternate between slower, harder-pulling training runs to faster, easier-pulling training runs. I may alternate between training slower and in gear on the quad one day to training with the quad completely off and in neutral the next and allowing the dogs to lope more to build up their speed.

Anyone who has ever been a runner knows this routine. And like runners training for a marathon, the dogs have their good days and not-so-good days.

Mostly, we have had great days lately. The mistakes made have primarily been made by me, not the dogs!

My little canine carnivores resting during a 10 mile training run. Yeti (left) and Ruffian (right, standing)

Stay tuned as we up the mileage heading into November!

Lead dogs and a "snow emergency"

What makes a lead dog?

Famous Iditarod veteran, Martin Buser, says lead dogs show signs of being leaders from puppyhood. They are usually very curious and spunky. As they get older, they show that they like to be in charge and can learn the commands very quickly.


Now retired, Foxy once led during the Yukon Quest

It is also said that leaders possess intelligence, initiative, and the ability to navigate a trail in a variety of conditions.

I've developed my own theory lately about leaders.

It's all in the eyes.

My main leader, Yeti, is only three. I acquired Yeti when he was just four months old from a musher named Mike Murphy. Mike gave him to me for free, and Yeti was extremely shy. I didn't know if he would be a sled dog, and I never dreamed he would be a leader. Our bond was quick right from the start. He seemed to hone in on me, looking up at me with his beautiful almond-shaped eyes that still melt my heart today.



That next season, he was leading 10 dog strings as a yearling. This season, he has blossomed into a true "gee-haw" leader - that is, a dog who definitely knows and follows directions. Still painfully shy, Yeti will break down shaking in a crowd and always gets stress diarrhea at races, but when he is in harness, he never falters. He is certainly the best "free" dog I've ever gotten!

Leaders have a willingness to please beyond other sled dogs. In my opinion, my leaders seem connected so strongly to me with their willingness to please, that it almost seems as though my leaders look at me adoringly. Nothing can sway their focus or loyalty; they are steadfast in their commitment to me and the team.

Take my young up-and-coming leader, Ruffian, as an example.


Ruffian stares at me lovingly. She is only two 1/2 years old and 45 pounds, but already shoulders Yeti into a turn if he hesitates on a command

I acquired Ruffian when she was barely harness broken at 10 months of age from Joann Fortier. She was a wiley, silly yearling, and again, - unproven - so I didn't know what I had gotten myself into


Ruffian as a youngster

Ruffian is supremely intelligent and is one of the few dogs in my kennel I trust completely to free run and come to me when I call her.

I have been so fortunate to have such a great bunch of dogs in my kennel. They all get along and are all super with my kids and very loving and friendly with anyone who approaches them.

In addition to a very strong willingness to please, I have a theory about something that creates not just a great leader, but a happy kennel: social time. Dogs are social animals, and I have always been a proponent of daily free run play time. It helps the pack sort our differences and figure out their place in the scheme of things, as well as blow off steam.

Last night, I went to bed watching a light mist of rainy snow fall from the sky. Nothing to write home about, I thought, and wrote off the talk of NE Ohio getting dumped on.

I was surprised, then, when my phone rang at 5:30 this morning to tell me school was canceled.

I woke up to a winter wonderland! six inches of fresh powder had fallen on our already eight inches over night. The neighboring county declared a "snow emergency." I had to laugh. The only emergency I could see was getting outside to play in the white stuff fast enough!

Here is a small clip of our run today. Until next time,