"In Just spring when the world is mud-luscious and puddle wonderful" e.e. cummings

Transition is difficult for me, I admit it.

Transition from sleeping to waking and visa versa. My body resists the transitions from consciousness to semi-consciousness.

I am probably the only person alive who finds spring unsettling. Transition from winter to spring has always been a challenge.

So, today was particularly confusing. Spring was positively seeping around every corner, and yet, it was the start of the Iditarod today.

I try to embrace every season. Really, I do. Except spring. I bristle.

Spring is the messiest of seasons. It's a sloppy toddler with enormous feet who spreads mud everywhere. Spring is wet. And dank. It smells bad - all that wet and dankness.

Today I ventured for a three mile hike with Gwennie in the puddle-wonderful thicket of spring. This was her first solo outing with just me since the puppies were born. It was gorgeous and obnoxious: a blinding sun filled the sky. There was still a good snow base in the woods, but evidence of spring thaw was every where in the bubbles below the frozen pond.

Spring gurgles to the surface, gasping for air like it nearly drowned. Calling attention to itself. Such drama. Spring. Even the name itself - "Spring" - is an obnoxiously dramatic onomatopoeia.

But I suppose spring will spring whether I like it or not, so I try to embrace it.

What better way to embrace it than by having a puppy reunion in the snow!


Lucy frolics in the snow with her siblings


Bolt, 9 weeks


Amanda and Bolt, 9 weeks

Kerouac and Lucy got to frolic with their sibling, Bolt, who is near us. Her other siblings are now far away in Michigan, Minnesota and Iowa. But we are so happy Bolt is still nearby at our friend Amanda's small "farm." The puppies went exploring in a major way this weekend, and discovered the fun of playing in a wood pile...


Lucy and Kerouac exploring the wood pile

And the strange delight of chickens!


Lucy boldly ventured right into the chicken coop. Bolt has been afraid of Amanda's chickens, but she figured if the runt was undaunted, she could be brave and enter too!

They played with each other, and with each other's toys...


Kerouac inside Bolt's crate with her Kong toy! Trying to look inconspicuous

And they grew tired of playing with each other and got crabby as only siblings can do.


Lucy may be small, but she's learned how to dish it out when she's had enough of being picked on!

At the end of the day, all puppies were super tired from several hours of romping together.


Lucy sleeping

Except for Bolt, who is like an Energizer bunny!


Bolt trying to sneak up on a sleeping Lucy. Go to sleep, Bolt!

Puppies weren't the only ones who became sleepy after the play date.


Byron, Amanda's husband, stuck to napping with Lilly the kitty during puppy play time

May your transitions into slumber be peaceful, puppies (and Byron)!

"I can't go back to yesterday, because I was a different person then." Lewis Carroll

We are made up of the days that come before today. Our personal histories, and the people who come into and out of our lives for various reasons help shape and change who we are.

One of my favorite quotes is this one above. Change is the only constant in life. Rolling with those changes is sometimes difficult. But the atmosphere, the weather, even our own cell make up is all different today than it was yesterday. A few days ago, buckets of snow fell and I was breaking trail with my dogs. And today, the sun sparkled in millions of glinting smiles in millions of crystalline flecks of snow! Is it really March? Can it be?

The dogs pad around in the snow, which is now nearly an ice rink. They celebrate the sun; they celebrate the moon. They have squabbles, and forget them almost immediately. Dogs are masters of change. They adapt. I recently learned that huskies can actually change their metabolism to suit their environment and the food available in that environment.

We can learn a lot from dogs.

Our own squabbles and dramas of our little lives really are insignificant. When I am presented with a challenging situation (which usually involves people), I always ask myself one thing.

"Will this matter five years from now?"

Nine times out of ten, the answer is no.

People reveal much about their characters in how they treat animals.

Are animals something to be bought and sold, turned over the way some people flip houses? Are we motivated only by what that animal can bring to us, whether it be money, fame, some idea of success?

Dogs are loyal. I can communicate an idea or thought to my dogs with just my posture or the way I look at them. They know me. They trust me and my judgements. They look to me as their leader, and they trust that.

We can learn a lot from dogs.

My dogs are "lifers." They come to the ranch, and, as long as I have anything to say about it, they will die on the ranch. I do not keep dogs solely for what they can bring me (money, fame, some idea of success); I keep dogs as part of an extended family. And I am loyal to that family.

Today, there was a squabble in the kennel over a nasty, soggy tug rope toy that had been laying under several layers of snow half the winter. As the snow has melted, it as revealed misplaced and discarded pieces of yesterday: a toy car, a piece of a stuffed animal, this tug rope.

Like children, the dogs were eager for this new discovery and tore after it during free run time today. Marley, the Aussie, and Yeti, my leader, met at the tug rope equally.

There was a showdown.

Yeti reached for the rope first, inciting attack. A sudden tangle of fur and growling testosterone ensued.

Trick: if you want to separate two dogs who are fighting, grab the tail of one of them

I grabbed Yeti's tail. Confused, he stumbled to regain his balance, in doing so, let go of Marley. I checked both dogs. Marley was protected by his woolly-mammoth coat. Yeti, however, had a chunk taken right out from under his right eye.

But, within five minutes, Marley and Yeti were scampering around the yard together, having completely forgotten about their squabble. Water under the bridge. Dogs don't dwell.

We can learn a lot from dogs.

I can't go back to yesterday, because I was a different person then. All I can do is move forward and look to tomorrow. And walk away.

Puppy update and 400th post!

The house is filled with what sounds like tiny horses galloping ta tump, ta tump, ta tump

Kerouac and Lucy have been coming inside more frequently now that all the other puppies are gone, and they are learning how to acclimate and socialize with the house dogs.


Kerouac and Lucy trying to understand our strange cattle dog rescue, Karma. "What is it?" Kerouac asks Lucy. "I don't know," says Lucy. "Let's attack it!"


Ambush!

They enjoy some of the luxuries of the house, like sleeping on warm people.



Yesterday evening, I loaded up six dogs, two sleds and three kids and headed out for the snowmobile trail to make the most of the rest of our fabulous snow. The days are beginning to warm up. It won't be long before everything melts and spring will be upon us.

Sophie took her friend Drew in her sled basket and I hooked up two dogs to her sled. Elise rode in my sled basket with four dogs, and we went for a fun run. Elise giggled as we bobbed up and down moguls made by snow machines on the trail. Gwennie seemed so happy to be back in harness and doing what she loves to do: run!

As we came back to the truck, the beam of my headlamp shined bright in the night. The trail, which had warmed in the sun during the day, now froze over, and my sled runners slid effortlessly over the bright white snow. "This is contentment," I thought. It's like nothing else on earth to me. I will be sad to see winter fade this year.

But, big changes are in the wind for the Lazy Husky Ranch soon.

And I'm already so pleased with the way my pups are turning out and looking so forward to harness breaking them in the fall.


Miss Lucy the Luck Dragon at 8 weeks and 2 days, turning into quite the little beauty

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In other news, this is my 400th post on this blog. I started this blog nearly four years ago as an effort to communicate with family and friends about the goings-on in our hectic life. I never dreamed it would turn into something I am so committed to and look forward to so much. I have made so many very good friends from my blog. Like Cici Birnberg in Illinois, who mushes with her Golden Retrievers. Like Ginsberg's human mommy, Kathleen Kimball-Baker, who is always so positive in her outlook on life. Like Bolt's human mommy, Amanda Stanoszek, with her small kennel and chicken house in Hinkley, Ohio.

People come into and out of each other's lives at certain times for definite reasons, in my opinion. Every person who has come into my life has taught me something. I am so thankful for true friends - those who take me for who I am and accept me completely. Thank you, guys! And thanks for reading.

An homage to dogs: in fierce defense of a lifestyle

The team trekking along a frozen lake on the Jack Pine 30 trail last weekend

"Come, see my dogs.

They carry me
into all things, all things I will be;
all things that will come to me
will come to my dogs.

Come, see my dogs.

My dogs are what lead me,
they are what move me.
See my dogs in the steam,
in the steam of my life.

They are me."

Gary Paulsen - Dogsong

Occasionally, people question or test my loyalty to my dogs. This weekend, I have been tested.

I currently have eleven dogs. This is small compared to other kennels.

The person who comes closest to expressing in words my relationship to my dogs is musher and writer, Gary Paulsen. The passage above is at the end of Dogsong.

Love me, love my dogs

The dogs are not something I have part-time; they are not a fad, a hobby, or a passing phase. Keeping dogs is a lifestyle, and numerous sacrifices go into that lifestyle. There is never a "day off" from caring for my dogs. There are no vacations without the dogs, and Christmas morning finds me doing kennel chores same as any other day.

We are a team, always. I will spend money on my dogs before I will spend money on things for myself. My dogs eat better than I do, with fresh meat and high-octane kibble at every meal.

I am the dogs and the dogs are me. Our connection to each other is deeply rooted. They are an extension of my family. My dogs are not "pets," although they live a wonderful life. They are part of a team, and each has a role to play. I, too, have a role to play. I work for them, and they work for me.

The dogs connect me to the earth through the many trails we have ventured on together; they connect me to history, through the many people who have hunted, lived and moved via dogsled. Like Paulsen says, the dogs carry me to what is important, and conversely, away from what is not important in life.

I am grateful for my dogs.

I have learned from them as much about life and about myself as from anything. Sometimes we communicate best in an ancient language of quick short grunts, glares or tail wags; sometimes we have extended conversations.

My connection to my dogs is as intrinsic and important to me as the air I breathe. There will not come a time when I will not have dogs, work with dogs, laugh with dogs, live with dogs.

For a well-written editorial about Why Sled Dogs Run featured in the NY Times, click the link.