Nostalgia

This morning I got to help out at Martin Buser's Happy Trails Kennel. I scooped, helped hook up, and rode along on a four wheeler run. It was a blast, and, despite a lot of new construction that has taken place since I first started mushing in 2000, really took me back to my early days.

I remember everything about the first time I ever ran dogs. I had asked Martin, really nervously, if I could have a sled dog ride as part of a school project I was doing on the Iditarod. Honestly, I'd been jonesing to be on the back of a dog sled for years. Being friends with the Buser boys had me so close to mushing... But so far. My brother and Martin's two sons and I would all play Legos, build forts, and do what kids do. We played with the puppies a bit-- This was one of our "jobs," to help socialize the young dogs. But that was the closest I ever got to sled dogs, really.

So finally I asked for this ride, and Martin had said yes. I remember walking out to the dog yard wearing whatever silly winter gear I'd found. The dogs went nuts. Martin showed me how to harness a dog. He talked about the way a dog's legs move. ("They don't have ball socket shoulders, like we do, so you can't pull their arm sideways.") He showed me tug and neckline and gangline. It was spring, after Iditarod, and getting warmer. Martin, his son Nikolai, and I all headed off on a puppy run, training young dogs how to run in the team. We did five runs that day. On the last run, with me driving, and Nikolai in the basket of the sled, Martin hopped off the runners just before our loop. It was a huge surprise! But off we went, Martin waving and grinning behind us, letting us figure things out on our own. We came to our turn, and called "Gee." I think I braked too late, or the dogs were excited to go "Haw" instead, so we had to stop and show them the correct trail. Nikolai and I worked together and got it done and in short order had picked Martin back up again.

Refreshment after the run

Going back to the kennel where I first learned to mush was very in keeping with the theme of this year. Moving back to my hometown has been a series of flashbacks, but also a poignant reflection on how much I have changed. This place has changed, too, in a lot of ways-- And in other ways, not at all. The dogs are older. Wandering around Martin's lot was a very old man dog, a black dog with distinctive orange and white markings. I thought I recognized him. I asked Martin who it was. "That's Van Gogh!" he told me, and I laughed, because I remember that dog well. I knew him as a puppy when I worked at Happy Trails fourteen years ago. He was a litter of one, and for some reason-- I can't remember why-- something happened to his ear. Maybe his momma bit it, or maybe someone else. Anyway, one of his ears was missing a chunk, so he earned his artistic name. So strange to remember that rough and tumble solo pup, now an old, old man, free to roam where he wanted.

The past two weeks, I've gotten to help at various kennels all over the state. I'm really grateful to be able to work with dogs, even if I'm not handling or mushing right now. It's incredible to see all these different folks working in different ways towards a kind of common idea. There are the races-- and that's important-- but more universally, there's a great joy in just running those dogs. Yes, everyone is eager for snow. But most of all, all these mushers walk through their lots, and you can see they are family with the canines who bark and keen to go. It's a dirty, messy, sloppy love. It's silly and not at all nice and neat. It's expensive, and time-swallowing, and hard work. I absolutely love it.

How I Feel About Things

Whatever your stance on things, currently, I think we can all get behind this. Chase Tingle, Judy Currier's handler this season (lara-ke.blogspot.com) features in this brief message brought to you by sled dogs everywhere. Especially in America.