self mutilation

For some reason, when I came home and found this on our breezeway last evening, it struck me as completely hilarious. A glamorized image of the ideal husky, this toy, now matted with slobber, missing an ear and most of its face met me on the floor of our porch, a gift left by our huskies. Chris said it looks like it has a cleft palate. Imagining three huskies ripping the face off of a stuffed replica of themselves reminded me of how I used to give my Barbies mohawks when I was a kid, mutilating idealic images of the "perfect" person. My dogs probably look at that stuffed replica of the idealic husky and want to vomit.

What does Disney know about sleddogs anyway? Sleddogs are not glamorous AKC beautified show dogs. They're down-and-dirty, "git-r-done" working dogs who are often stinky; usually voracious in their appetite for food, exercise and companionship; sometimes timid; almost always vocal; sometimes downright ugly, floppy-eared beasts who appear more suited to work in a junkyard than on a trail hooked to a gangline.

My daughters recently wanted to rent Iron Will, a Disney rendition of a boy who runs a sleddog team to victory to honor the memory of his dead father and preserve his family's farm. Typical glamorized Disney images of what people think of when they think of sleddogs: 70 pound Malamutes, with steel-blue eyes and glossy black and white coats thick as blankets.

My dogs seemed to give their opinion of Disney and the "traditional" husky by chewing the face off this one, leaving only the blank empty expresion of steel blue eyes and a big hole where the rest of its mouth would have been.

Go get 'em, kids!