Recovery

The Disreputable Dog is amazing. The surgeon told me that this leg might take longer to heal up. If anything, it's healing faster. On Friday he was a miserable lump of a dog. We got him out of the vehicle and whenever I wasn't visible or was more then 5 feet away he would whine. His eyes were cloudy and drugged and he fought the drug induced sleep all he could until he would just keel nose first into the rug. He refused to eat all weekend and had to have pills thrust down his throat and he was completely and totally uninterested in his hedgehog (a stuffed toy that he carries around like it's his baby and that he has to show every visitor). I think the drugs must have made him nauseous. And his leg was this nasty purplish swollen thing. Frozen peas helped but he didn't tolerate them for very long.

I pedaled home yesterday wondering how he'd be and out came this bounding dog with his hedgehog in the mouth full of energy and a sparkle in his eye. He ate - of course he did, he got hare that my boss gave me - and he even lifted the other leg to pee - putting all of his weight on the newly operated on leg. His joy in all things has been revived. He tussled his cat instead of the other way around. He threw his hedgehog in the air a few times. Still, he set up howling when I left this morning and twice I had to bike back to pacify him. If that were me post surgery I think I'd still be whining on the couch.

Fatigued

It's been a heck of a week and a half. I wanted to write last night but I was exhausted beyond reckoning and actually went to bed at 7pm. Here it is roughly, in sequence and bulleted.

*The day before the lightning hike I took the Disreputable Dog to an veterinary orthopedist. Over the past few weeks he has been limping so badly in favor of his front left shoulder that he can no longer walk around the block without having to stop for a rest. The orthopedist ruled out any of the usual suspects and concluded with the thoughts that there is a strong possibility of either bone or nerve cancer. Neither of which are good. He recommended us to a osteology research clinic/ school ~250miles (~400km) to the north of Town At The Confluence Of Two Gold Medal Trout Streams (where I live) in Town Known For It's Veterinary College.

*Lightning Hike - a good break from reality - see previous post.

*Lucky for us we didn't overnight because the retina in my mother's other eye ripped that night. An early morning drive to Oil Drilling Town (~110mile/ ~180km to the west of Town At The Confluence Of Two Gold Medal Trout Streams) for more surgery.

*Next day a 5 hour drive to Town Known For It's Veterinary College. First we manage to arrange for Life Long Friend to take the Parental Dog for the day, and for Life Long Neighbor to come check in on my mom while my father and I get up at 4am for the drive. We get to the college and they take a bunch more x-rays, convinced that the orthopedist may have missed some views (can I say at this point - thank goodness I signed up for veterinary insurance for my dog while in grad school as I didn't want to ever have to choose between rent/food and my dog. If you don't have pet insurance, and you are in North America, I recommend VPI - it's better then human health insurance in the US).

*Good news: there is nothing in his lungs or soft tissue so if he does have cancer it hasn't spread there. Bad news, they still don't know what it is so we will be back for bone scans (for bone cancer) and MRI's (for nerve cancer).

*We leave Town Known For It's Veterinary College the same day, I have to get back to work, and unfortunately I'm late due to road construction (which is hard to plan for when you are driving 10 hours) an so a series of complicated phone calls ensue. Luckily my co-workers are most understanding.The Dalai Lama came to Famous Intellectual Ski Town and the bookstore had put together a bookstore for it which means that everybody is working this week and there really wasn't anybody to call but a few people who are willing to extend their hours (thank you!)

Lama who is in town the day after trip one to Town Known For It's *Because we have the bookstore we also have free lawn tickets to the actual talk by the DalaiVeterinary College. I take the bus up with my sister's step sister and my bike and we find a nice place among the aspen trees to listen. It's an interesting talk although he's a bit difficult to understand. He has a childish giggle that we understand more clearly then anything else. But forget zen (I'm kidding!), I have 1.5 hours to bike ~30miles (~50km) from Famous Intellectual Ski Town to Town At The Confluence Of Two Gold Medal Trout Streams before I have to be at work. I'm desperate to fit some exercise in here - usually I bike/ run/ hike at least once a day but with all this driving there hasn't been any. So I pedal like a mad woman and get to work with 5 minutes to spare.

*Next day is my day off. I go briefly to a summer festival then there's more news. Brother-in-Law's mother is ill with heart problems so he rushes off to Kansas. Sister's mother is in town to work on more permanent care for step father (original Marlboro man) and as they come west over the Continental Divide I go east to Mile High City where the Disreputable Dog and I spend the night at sister's step-sister's house (how's that for confusing?) alone and get up bright and early to make a 730am appointment at the veterinary college which is still a bit north. The Disreputable Dog spends the whole day getting a bone scan - they use the radio active element technetium to scan for unusual growth in the bones - and waiting until he is no longer "hot" and is safe to be picked up. And then it's back home again with another late arrival.

*Despite tiredness I cannot help but notice how beautiful the mountains are on our way back. There has been a rain and the mists are rising up the treeless hillsides. The small town we stop in for a walk is spotlighted in evening sunlight with a rainbow arching over it.

*Get up super early because a) the vet has called with results at 6am - the results are inconclusive. There seems to be unusual turnover in the left shoulder but not enough to determine whether it is cancer, and b) because my parents are back off to Oil Drilling City for another eye appointment. I'm off to work early and I'm so tired I feel like I'm hallucinating. And despite the fact that I have several telephone calls to return, some bills to pay, and a blog to catch up on I ignore it all and go to bed at the soonest possible moment.

The Iditarod Starts

I don't usually post on weekends but today is the start of the Iditarod Sled Dog Race, also known as the great serum race...probably the most famousest of sled dog races out there. For those of you who are unfamiliar with this race it is a 1150 mile race from Anchorage to Nome. From the Iditarod web-site:

The Iditarod Trail, now a National Historic Trail, had its beginnings as a mail and supply route from the coastal towns of Seward and Knik to the interior mining camps at Flat, Ophir, Ruby and beyond to the west coast communities of Unalakleet, Elim, Golovin, White Mountain and Nome. Mail and supplies went in. Gold came out. All via dog sled. Heroes were made, legends were born.

In 1925, part of the Iditarod Trail became a life saving highway for epidemic-stricken Nome. Diphtheria threatened and serum had to be brought in; again by intrepid dog mushers and their faithful hard-driving dogs. The Iditarod is a commemoration of those yesterdays, a not-so-distant past that Alaskans honor and are proud of.

This race is a bit different then then the Yukon Quest in that there are more checkpoints and it goes through more communities, i.e. mushers don't have to rely so much on wilderness camping. This year there is a record 96 teams in the race. For both the Yukon Quest & the Iditarod mushers must first qualify for the race through other shorter races. One year there was no snow in Anchorage so they had to hold the start in Fairbanks - two dear friends of mine (who took the pictures on this page) from Europe were particularly fascinated by the range of clothing you could see even at 40 below zero; everything from shorts & t-shirt, complete homemade fur get-ups (including a skunk hat!), carhardts and bunny boots, and military fatigues for the folks from the base.

Skijoring

Skijor = to ski while being pulled by 1 to 3 animals

Pulk = to skijor and then also pull a sled behind you

Well, due to all the questions on my mushing posts about whether or not the Disreputable Dog pulls, I thought I should address skijoring. Of course the Disreputable pulls! Not only that but if you were to google my real name many of the top posted items would be skijoring races. Now, the Disreputable Dog is not a very fast dog but he's not supposed to be; he's more along the lines of what you need to pull a heavy sled and believe me, he can pull twice his body weight all day if need be. He's a great skijorer (see pictures) on long skis especially overnight trips or hut trips. He's game for racing too but he's never in the top league because he's too big, he's not a sprint dog but a dog built for stamina. He's the type of dog the post office would have used to haul the mail across the tundra.

He's never been part of a mushing team but has raced together in two dog teams in skijoring. And done trips. Once when we lived on a sandbar on a tributary to the Yukon River (umm...we were doing field work) some of the locals (meaning they lived in a town upriver from us, about 4 hours by boat) tried to steal him because they thought he would be the perfect trapline dog. And he would. Except he is extremely loyal and wasn't having anything to do with being abducted. When a 120lb dog digs his feet into soft river sand you can bet that no one will get him to budge, but I digress.

The point is he loves to pull and I love to ski and we spend lots of time every winter hooked up into a harness with me skate or classic skiing behind him as he pulls. That makes it sound easy but it isn't. It's a lot of work for both of us. It is important for the skier to maintain a rhythm that doesn't work against the rhythm of the dog. It's great fun and it's particularly useful when you are on a trail that requires your dog to be leashed because he is, and yet you have your hands free.

When we first took up skijoring (in Fairbanks of course, where else?) I happened to mention it to a relative of mine who is one of the original Marlboro Men (seriously) and he mentioned that in his youth they used to do it down Colorado ski hills pulled by horses! Now that, sounds a little crazy to me. A dog, at least, will notice and stop if you fall down.

A Cat & Her Dog

"I've got it, I've got it...will someone else help me out here? I'm not sure I can hold onto it all by myself!" So I imagine the caption for this picture of the Disreputable Cat holding onto her dear Disreputable Dog's tail for all she's worth. I wish I had the camera out earlier when she was fast asleep with her nose nuzzled into it. Her doggy. Her beloved doggie. And his scrumptious tail which one can play with when needing to vent some predatory instincts and then sleep with when one is done. That is pure cat happiness. I just had to share it.

The Disreputable Dog does a Meme

The Disreputable Dog on boat guard duty in Ft. Yukon, Alaska

You might think I'm prevaricating; I am. I am swirling with so many thoughts that I can't yet commit them to blog or form tangible evidence of their existence...but since Penny & Parlance have tagged the Disreputable Dog for a meme I shall do that instead.

Here are 5 random facts from the Disreputable Dog:

1. Although I am a fixed male I am rather maternal. In fact that's how I got the Disreputable Cat - I just couldn't bare to see that little kitty out on her own where the bald eagles would snap her up. I knew if I got the Boss' niece into her she'd be permanent. But shhh! don't tell anyone, it might get in the way of my tough dog exterior.

2. I am not a treat inclined dog. I like treats now but when I was a puppy the Boss could drape a piece of bacon by nose and I'd run right past it.

3. Everyone loves to give me nicknames. Every human I've ever spent any time with has come up with a new one. I respond to them all. What can I say? I'm adorable and sweet.

4. I can respond to commands in English, German, French, and Tagalog.

5. Boss got me at the pound or animal control in Fairbanks. I was 6 months old and had been with 6 families already by the time she got me! She moves a lot but at least she always takes me with. I've been on planes, trains, boats, and of course, automobiles.

I tag anydoggy who wants to do this...have your owner leave a comment so we can follow along!

Rules: Link to your tagger's owner and post these rules on your blog. Share 5 facts about yourself on your blog, some random, some weird.

The Disreputables & the Parentals

Many of you have asked how the Disreputables survived the trip from Alaska to Colorado and how they are doing in this new house with the two Parental Pets. The Disreputable Dog has made the trip before. I wouldn't say flying is his favorite activity but he's okay with it. He loves his kennel and feels safe there; he also loves flirting with the check-in people who tend to suddenly forget all of their holiday stress when they see him and several times have even concocted a long joke about how he resembles their husbands but is better behaved. He long ago made friends with the Parental Cat, Mr Nibbs, with whom he got along great, and the Parental Dog, Maggie, both of whom seem fonder of each other with each visit despite very disparate play tactics.

The Disreputable Cat & Mr Nibbs

The Disreputable Cat was new to flying but she too is very fond of her kennel. She has no problem being in it and will even enter it on command. However, being in it for 17 hours was a rather new experience and she got bored. Unfortunately, she proved, somewhere mid red-eye, to be very capable in finding her way out of her kennel including undoing the clasps and zippers which meant I spent a considerable amount of time poking paws & a curious head back into the kennel as opposed to sleeping as I'd hoped. Eventually I asked the flight attendants for tape and taped the whole thing shut. I had visions of her escaping and clambering over heads and causing an outcry before hiding out in a lavatory.

The Disreputable Dog with Maggie & Summit (in the foreground) on a hike

However, she made it quite well and the minute that she and the Disreputable Dog were re-united in my parents' car she happily accepted a full doggie tongue bath. On the four hour drive back, the Disreputable Dog was wedged between my niece and my mother and the Disreputable Cat spent happy hours intently watching the back windshield wiper. She loves riding in the car and has absolutely no qualms about it. Because she had been flying so long my parents brought her a litter pan and my niece inquired in a very adult tone to her grandfather "Excuse me, papa, May I ask why my boots are the kitty toilet?".

Maggie & the Disreputable Cat share a bed

The Disreputable Cat quickly made friends with Maggie, even allowing her to put her feet on her while they shared a bed, but not going so far as to allow her to lick her as she does her own dog. The pair we were the most worried about were the cats. Mr Nibbs is 17 and suffers from liver failure which means he is cranky and sick. Their initial meeting resulted in Mr Nibbs flying at the Disreputable Cat but since she is young and agile there was no harm to be done. Since then they have become reluctant friends, if only because the Disreputable Cat is determined and brave and repeatedly makes attempts at friendship. Their first friendly interactions involved them pawing at each other under my opposite sides of my closed bedroom door. They've since evolved into a follow the leader game. I think Mr Nibbs' main objection to the young upstart is that she is easily distracted and refuses to be intimidated for long before she's off following reflecting sun beams.

All in all, the Disreputables are doing well. However, due to having lived in a tiny little house they now being in a much larger one they insist on following me around everywhere, because you just never know which room will have porthole through which I'll escape and leave them.

Canine Instincts

The other day the Disreputable Dog and I were on our way for our usual evening walk in the woods. I was lost in thought, decompressing from the day, and wasn't paying particularly close attention to my surroundings when suddenly the Disreputable Dog came to a complete stop. His nose stretched up as far as it could, every muscle taut as the string of a bow, one foot paused in mid-step. This brought me to a halt behind him as well. "What's up?" I asked him. In response he tucked his tail down and turned heal back the way we came. I stared at him for a moment then followed suit. I thought perhaps he take another loop but he headed completely out and away towards home. I didn't question him - there's not a lot that gives him pause but I figure if he sensed something we didn't want to mess with he had his reasons. I tried to think of what would make him act like that - a young black bear or moose wouldn't make him react like that. I could only guess that maybe there was an old grizzly or perhaps a wolverine up the trail. But whatever it was, I wasn't over eager to find out after watching the body language of the Disreputable Dog.

So instead we headed over to the shoreline which has been abandoned by all the RVs and campers. The evening was so still that I could hear the rasp of teeth as a sea otter chewed on a mollusk, hear the clinking as it broke the shell open. The quiet, soulful eyes of a seal peered over the lip of the water starring at us while a playful group of young juvenile male Steller seal lions got up to mischief further up the coast. The Disreputable Dog was playful, tossing sticks in the air and sniffing at the dead fish, gallivanting through the fallen leaves as if he had gotten a reprieve, the cold nipping at our cheeks. I am grateful to the Disreputable Dog for his company, for his alertness when I am less then I should be, for his light playfulness at the end of long days, for always being willing to go on a walk.

Dog-Gone Fishing

It's that time of year when I have to put my dog on leash when we go near a salmon stream - and it's the time of year that every stream is a salmon spawning stream. He is, a most accomplished fisher-dog. As a pup he would get so super excited by the thrashing fish that clog the stream that he he would just merrily run around. As he got older though he learned to focus on one fish and chase it down. I don't mind if he gets one but one a week is the limit I'm imposing on him. Any more and I'll have to buy him his own fishing license. He pounces on the fish and then once he has is shakes his big bear head until it's dead. He'll then carry it all the way back to my rig, jump in the back with it, jump back out at our yard, and after leaving it to sit in the grass for about an hour eat it. Which is good - we're a subsistence household I tell him, if he catches it, he's got to eat it. Salmon does wonderful things for his fur and usually he doesn't need a kibble meal for a day or so after feasting on his self caught one. (And the Disreputable Cat would like it known that she would be a good salmon hunter if she was only let outside - at the very least she would be able to snag some of Dog's.)

Oh, the furry cuteness

DOG and I have a new family member who has adopted us. She's widget sized but she's rather brave and I think she makes a better vaccum cleaner than DOG does. She cleaned up every scrap of breakfast that he dropped. If he doesn't watch out she'll start stealing it out of the bowl.