Thoughts on snow (and grudges, and dogs)

I just sat down. It seems days and nights are running together lately in a whirlwind of puppy squeals and feedings with Lucy.

Abigail Thomas says in A Three Dog Life that, "Dogs are never in a bad mood over something you said at breakfast. Dogs never sniff at the husks of old conversations, or conduct autopsies on weekends gone wrong. An unexamined life may not be worth living, but the overexamined life is hell. We talk too much."

It's true. We are the ones who hold grudges. Dogs are so utterly in the moment.

So, I just finished feeding Lucy, scooping and feeding the rest of the dogs and was tallying miles and finalizing my race schedule when, out of no where, Yeti and Jack had a huge dog fight. Then Chris's brain dead Aussie decided it looked like fun, and he jumped in the mix.

I admit, I'm not one to get overly excited about a dog fight. I've learned over the years when it's serious and when it's just mostly a noisy display of testosterone. So, I watched for about eight seconds to see if they were even serious or not. Yup, they were serious.

Sigh.

I set my kennel records and calendar down on the deck and moseyed over to pull apart the testosterone that had congealed into one mass of fur and teeth. I tied the boys up, but they seemed perplexed, having forgotten already about whatever was worth practically eating each other about not five minutes before.

Truth is, I'm not in a mood to get too excited about much of anything today, even a dog fight. I feel as flat as white paint, lacking luster and as apathetic and unforgiving as concrete.

This is what happens to me when the snow melts: I'm left to face a dull, gray, lifeless January in northeast Ohio. And the glorious foot of beautiful perfect snow has all but melted. Today, I'm definitely holding a grudge for January in northeast Ohio.

Snow is nature's highlighter, calling attention to the spaces in between - things often missed. Where winter without snow is drab and depressing, a snowy January is lively and festive.

Tonight, I am praying for snow. Until then, looks like I resume cart training with the dogs tomorrow.

Happy Birthday Sophie and Elise!

At 4:20 Mountain Time (6:20 Eastern Time), Sophie was born in Jackson Hole, Wyoming 10 years ago.

Amazing how time flies, isn’t it?



Last night, she was upset about a homework assignment and crying. I started singing her favorite Bob Marley song to her: don't worry about a thing cause every little thing's gonna be alright.... I thought back to when she was a colicky infant who wouldn't stop screaming. I used to sing Bob Marley songs to her to quell her colicky cries. The sound of the streams swelling full with mountain run-off seemed to lull her. She's always been my easy going nature girl.



Ten years ago yesterday, I was holding a newborn in my arms for the first time. Tiny and impatient from birth, Sophie came three weeks early while I was eating carrots and watching Star Wars II in Victor, Idaho. She’s always been gentle and easy going, a sensitive and compassionate child with a love for nature and animals. Her father and I spent the first part of my labor in Grand Teton National Park hiking between contractions, searching for coyote scat as a distraction. She was easy on me, coming quick in only six hours and weighing only six pounds. Conceived among 180 Alaska Huskies at Frank Teasley’s Jackson Hole Iditarod Sled Dog Tours, she was destined to be a dog person.


Sophie in 2006 rounding up puppies at Nature's Kennel, home of Tasha and Ed Stielstra and their 100 or so racing Alaskan huskies

She didn’t cry when she was born, but she sure made up for it later: she cried constantly during the first four months of her life. I walked endlessly through the tiny town of only 300, trying to quiet her. Being in nature, hiking through the forest with the sound of the streams and the sway of my walking with her strapped to me seemed to calm her. Though she was born during the tail end of May, it snowed the night she was born there in Jackson Hole, where snow lingers long. She was destined to love snow.


Sophie with Foxy (left) and Mandy (right), the original Lazy Huskies

Five years ago today, I held a much different newborn in my arms: Elise.



With the fiery spirit of her father and the tenacity of me, she is a rough and tumble kid who can dish it out and take it.



Even in the womb, when she kicked me, I knew she was going to be strong, a fighter. At eight pounds two ounces, she took her time emerging into this world and put me through a hellish 22 hour labor. And even today, no one can make Elise do anything before she wants to. She screamed and cried when she was born.



Curious, with a fierce determination and a proclivity for music, Elise is a natural entertainer. She is charismatic. Born to musicians and writers for parents, Elise was destined to be an entertainer.


Elise singing in the backyard

Sophie and Elise are typical sisters. Most of the time, they are in harmony.


At Dussel Farm, fall of 05

But sometimes they have their differences.

Watching my girls grow up has been one of the greatest gifts I've ever been given. And though our lives are hectic and probably a bit unorthodox, with eight dogs at home (and more on the way), sharing their lives with the dogs is all they've ever known. My girls are flexible and resiliant, and I am proud of them. And I love them so, so much. Happy Birthday, Girls!


Elise swimming at her pool birthday party


Elise on her 5th birthday celebration


Sophie takes a break from swimming to open some presents from friends

A final fling: unfazed by the weather

Big Brown (foreground), who is named after the 2008 Kentucky Derby champion Thoroughbred, is our newest addition to the kennel. She is Ruffian's (who is also named after a champion Thoroughbred race horse) sister.

Spring. A time of renewal, birth and sunny days. For mushers, spring means movement. After moving hundreds of miles through fall training and winter's racing season, spring finds us moving equipment and dogs. It seems mushers never stop moving.

Tuesday morning, when northeastern Ohio was blasted by what will likely be a final winter storm, we headed north. In a last minute decision guided by the luxury of spontenaity I have been blessed with over the last year and a half, I made a final winter trip to Michigan to see my good friend Joann Fortier, have some fun, and bring home a new pack member, Big Brown.

You see, Odessa is expecting a litter of pups next month. So Joann had to make room in the kennel for their upcoming new additions.


Joann gives some lovin' to one of her top dogs, Odessa, who is expecting a litter of puppies next month. Ana looks on in the distance.

This meant another long car ride to northern Michigan.


But the girls sure have a blast when they're up north! I think they're yooper girls at heart.


Sophie bonds with Big Brown


Unfazed by the weather, Sophie and Ana played in the snow, along with Elise, who was out back "digging for treasure" in the snow!

The girls wore themselves out playing.

Sophie and Elise loved Ana



And when the girls finally fell asleep, Joann and I stayed up until 1:30 a.m. drinking wine, watching Iditarod videos and talking dog. Joann is like my soul sister. We think alike, want the same things, love the same things. We both have girls who are four years old, and have a lot of the same viewpoints on life.

So many people I've met in Michigan have become my second family. I know the sounds of their voices in my mind, the smells of their homes, and know I'd be welcome on any of their sofas anytime. I am always happy to head north, and always sad to leave.


Joann Fortier and me squinting in the bright sun as Sophie snaps our picture