Foxy: A Tribute. 12/28/96 - 8/30/12

Writing about grief is difficult for me. To be honest, I get squirrelly. I learned how to compartmentalize uncomfortable feelings well from working in hospitals for years. It's not necessarily a skill I am proud of, but one of self-preservation - a necessary evil when working around the tragedy of the human experience.

But this is not a tragedy. This is a heroic tale of an amazing canine athlete, one exalted to magnificent heights; indeed, Foxy lived a full and amazing life. I had to take some time away from this subject in order to write a proper tribute. In the quiet of a rainy post-holiday, it seemed the perfect time to slip away and lose myself in reflections of Foxy.

She would have been 17 on December 28. Seventeen in dog years is...119 years old. She was born on what I'm told was one of the coldest nights ever in Eagle, Alaska: December 28, 1996.

There are many stories from many people about Foxy and how she touched their lives, but I will start with my own.

I first met Foxy in September of 2006.

 
She was the first sled dog I bought. Her dense, woolly coat was unlike anything I'd ever seen on a dog; it seemed to almost glisten with an oily sheen that protected her skin and kept her dry and warm. Her huge paws had long tufts of hair growing out from between the pads to protect her feet; the same tufts grew out of each ear. Everything about Foxy made her perfectly equipped for the tundra of Alaska.

She had been transported from her home in Eagle, Alaska by one of the few other mid-distance mushers in Ohio, Tom Roig.When I brought her home after buying her from Tom, I spoiled her in ways she'd never been. She adjusted quickly to life inside, however. ...

I had hoped to use Foxy for at least one season, but when I got her, she was already nine years old, and pretty much done with being a sled dog. And really, she had earned the right to relax on the sofa. After all, she had run 950 miles of the 1,000 mile Yukon Quest sled dog race in single lead for Wayne Hall in 2002, and had literally run thousands of miles in her lifetime to that point.

She was in a book. She was in a movie. And she became the educational ambassador for my dog sled presentations; as such, she touched the lives of so many. Here are some photos from the many dog sledding talks we've done over the years:

Foxy learned quickly how to "work the crowd" in our talks. She walked up and down the aisles during our talks, stopping to visit each member of the audience for a pat on her fuzzy head. She taught Miles, my current education dog, how to work a crowd too.

Miles at only four months of age during one of my dog sledding presentations

A couple years ago, Foxy developed painful arthritis and retired fully from everything, spending her days sleeping peacefully here at the Ranch and wandering our seven acres.

This spring at the Ranch. A week old hen watches as Foxy walks by

Over the last week of her life, she woke me up crying out in the night - something Foxy never did. Her body was finally failing her after almost 17 amazing years. Her body may have been elderly, but her heart was still strong and refused to give up. Finally, I had to make the painful decision to ease her into the final stage of life.

Mushers have such a special, unique relationship with their canine friends and team mates. We spend so much time with them, are responsible for their happiness, health, and often witness as they take their first breath. But, we also have a responsibility, I think, to be with them when they take their last. I am honored to say I was right beside Foxy when she took her last.

Foxy lived a very full life. She touched the lives of so many, first with her athletic prowess and sharp mind, and later in life, with her gentle demeanor and patience with all people. I am honored to have had nearly seven years with Foxy, and to know well her life story. I am honored to have worked beside her both when she was in harness and in the classroom. She brought such joy and light to everyone she met.

My eight-year-old-daughter, Elise, bravely came with me to the vet on the final day of Foxy's life. As I knelt beside Foxy crying in the sterile office, Elise said, "don't worry, mommy. I've said a prayer for Foxy."

"What was your prayer?" I asked through my tears.

"I asked God to take away Foxy's pain, and take her spirit up to Heaven where she can run in the snow like in Alaska, forever and ever like a puppy again."

Here's to Foxy, with mush love.

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?

It ain't always easy: a word about discipline

"Discipline is remembering what you want." David Campbell

Okay, I admit it: some days, I don't want to run dogs.

Some days, I would rather curl up with a book and a cup of coffee and just watch the sun set like any normal person.

There's a cavernous ocean of space between the romantic image of a team of huskies gliding effortlessly across a frozen white landscape and the discipline and determination it takes to get to that point. Many, many people do not realize what it takes to get to that beautiful image of a team of huskies.

It takes countless hours of conditioning the dogs, a lot of not-so-beautiful training runs, potential balls of huskies tangled, bleary eyed mushers desperate for sleep, and hours of training beginning as early as late summer.

And it ain't always easy.

To have the discipline to go out in the cold, often in the dark, for hours on end takes a huge amount of motivation. Most people I know spend easily three hours or more straddling a four-wheeler at this time of year to gain the kind of mileage needed to compete in races - races that aren't even happening until January.

It's not just the dogs who must have endurance.


Tak after a 12 mile run, still ready for more

From the outside, it's probably not immediately clear the amount of time, sacrifice and determination that goes into this sport. You have to remember what you want, and remember it often.


Some of my dogs on a training run. Because of my schedule and temps, we train in the pitch black more times than not

It's hours and hours behind dog butts, watching each tug line to make sure it's tight, watching to ensure each dog is on its side of the centerline, watching to make sure no one is being grumpy or goofing off. Someone said to me once, it's like hooking a bunch of second graders to a line and taking them out to the zoo, hoping for the best. Some days, that sums it up!

And, add to that, the preparation that goes into this sport. I spent four hours yesterday with my good friend and fellow musher, Amanda, hacking up and grinding hundreds of pounds of deer, beef and beef tripe for the dogs. I spent an hour tonight before my run making new tug lines. The feeding, harnessing, hooking up, running, unhooking, unharnessing, feeding ...

This sport has a way of taking over your life. Because at the end of the day, it's not just a sport; it really is a way of life. A lifestyle.

Here is a snippet (just a snippet!) of a 12 mile run I did tonight with the dogs. Enjoy, and mush love!

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.

People come and go, but my dogs are always a constant

Today was a gorgeous day for a run.



The puppies now have teeth and are four weeks old, ergo, the demand for kibble is increasing!


Puppy socialization: Bolt attempting to befriend Stripes

My days are full of all things dog: runs for meat, kibble, straw, running dogs, which got me thinking about how much we provide for each other.

Yes, I provide for my dogs, but they provide for me as well.

People come and go, but my dogs are always a constant.


Chris and Lucy

People come into each other's lives for various reasons. The Japanese poet Royokan said "We come and go, leaving traces so faint, hardly a soul notices."

Many people have come and gone, for whatever reason, in my life; some I miss. Some, not so much.

But dogs - my dogs - I know I can count on. They are my family.

My kennel might be small, but it is growing.


Kerouac will be a permanent member of the Lazy Husky pack

I have trained every one of my current racing dogs myself, most from puppihood. I know them and they know me - better than most people do. Most mushers say it's not lucrative to raise puppies - that it's more economical to buy proven adult race dogs.

Not me. There is nothing like hand raising a racing dog from "scratch." Teaching it all it needs to know, your ways, your voice.


When I come into the whelping room, all the puppies look up. They already know my voice

Yeti is a prime case in point. I got him as a four month old, awkward pup, super shy and scared. I harness broke him, and he's now running as my full-time leader. At two years old.

I am already looking so forward to fall training and harness breaking Gwennie and Yeti's phenomenal puppies. Fall training is my favorite time of year, when everything is a clean slate, and hopeful for the upcoming season.

And to those people who have come and gone, I say, "Happy Trails."


Elise and Bolt celebrate the puppies four week birthday

Photos from the sidelines

It's hard when you're the photographer, but then you're the one on the runners.

I stood on the sidelines until the wee hours for both the U.P. 200 and the Midnight Run snapping photos of teams as they passed by through the night.

So when it was my turn to race Saturday morning, I had resigned myself to the fact that there would be no photos of my team. This is the problem when you're the photographer: no pics of yourself typically.

But then, I saw a man along the sidelines as I was coming into town along the shoreway of Lake Superior....and, could it be, he was snapping pictures of teams! I yelled out, "hey, look me up and send me a copy would you," thinking I'd probably never see that photo.

Today, I received an email from that man! He writes:

"Dear Mrs. Miller,

I am trying to find who wore bib #13 at the Jackpine 30 this past weekend in the UP. I had taken a photo of the musher as she was crossing a bridge near the finish line and she had asked me to forward her a copy of that pic. I believe the person was you ... Congratulations on the race and I look forward to seeing you and your brethren (I don’t think “sistren” is a word, but you know what I mean!) at next years events!

A fan of mushing,
Aladino Mandoli"

And here is the awesome photo Aladino took.

Look how the leaders, Star and Tefa, are in perfect stride together!

Thank you so much to my new friend Aladino, aka "Dino"

Here is his web site with a gallery of more of his impressive work.