Let the Sun Shine!

So it is still cold enough in the shade to freeze a dog bowl full of water and two days ago when I woke up, it was -33 degrees, but you better believe it, it looks like the worst of winter is over here at Miortuk Kennels. Probably because I just wrote that, we will have a blizzard tomorrow, given the fact Mother Nature has been quite an ornery brat during the past few months, but for now and for the past couple afternoons, our thermometer sits at a blessed PLUS FIFTEEN (yes, it is mounted on a beam that gets direct sunlight all day, but hey, temperature is all in your head).

Being an Arizona kid, I can’t help but sing the praises of a sun that actually gives off some warmth as opposed to the useless orb that has been hanging around up there, teasing us and doing very little to cut through the negative 20s, negative 30s, and negative thoughts that rage in your head when your fingers feel like they are going to freeze right off. Before coming to Quebec, weather was much simpler for me: if the sun was out, it was hot. If it wasn’t out, it was probably night time.

Don’t get me wrong, I have enjoyed the challenge of my first winter, but it sure is nice to go outside and just BE, instead of feeling like you need to be actively surviving. According to most of the weathered Canadians I have spoken to, I really am not just being a desert baby either. When you hear a Canadian say “coldest winter in 20 years,” you know it has been friggin cold. And when the Canadians are sick of winter, everyone is allowed to be sick of winter.

But now that the sun is doing more than just getting my hopes up, I can’t get enough of being outside. I knew I was an outdoorsy person (you don’t move to the forest to train sled dogs if you aren’t….), but sunshine that has been prescribed for my cabin fever has really turned into a gateway drug for a much more severe nature addiction. (Did you follow that Dr. House diagnosis there? (lupus! he has lupus! it is always lupus!)) After we finish morning chores in the kennel, with 30 dogs hanging about, I don’t have to search to hard to find ways to stay outside for hours. Walk a dog, mush a dog (haha), pet a dog, brush a dog,  (Actually, the dogs might be getting annoyed with how often I brush them; they probably see me put on the brushing mitt we have and think: “There’s the crazy brush girl again. Give it a rest before you turn us into naked mole rats.”) to name just a few activities. I also have taken up some cross-country skiing, a real challenge for someone who grew up around mostly cactuses and has difficulties getting all four limbs to move and cooperate in tandem; today I even managed to pick up a great rhythm between the poles and the skis (when in doubt, ski to the tune of “22” by T Swift) and to fall only twice (it is a flat lake, so this still needs some work…). After skiing today though, I still hadn’t quite gotten my fix yet, so I picked a puppy (Nicky, who is not actually a puppy, rather full grown booger who has never picked up the knack for running with the team) and we went for a walk/run/climb around the lake and through the forest. Nicky played his old game of pretending he doesn’t know what a leash is or how to walk, let alone pull, but all of the sudden, he was ready to go and only turned around to look back at me if I wasn’t running as if to say “Ok, lardy, let’s go already.”

After all this moving and breathing and wandering and living though, sometimes the only activity left is to take a nap on a dog house. Some dogs are perplexed by this behavior (“First you want to take all our fur, now you want our houses too??”), but most of them enjoy the addition of a permanent dog-petter to their homes, and take the opportunity to take a nap on the napping human.

So yes, I have survived winter. I have embraced the cold, the snow, the wind, the nose that never stops running (literally, when it is cold, everything just seems to turn to liquid in your face. Snot, tears, etc, you really have no control), the frozen fingers and toes, the strategizing of clothing, all of it. And boy have we had a blast!

But now, here comes the sun* and I have just a few more weeks here to live and breath and love its warm rays. With 30 dogs, 2 feet, and an endless forest, I don’t intend to waste a minute!

*(the real sun. Not quite Arizona status yet, but we are getting there =D)

Thanks to fellow handler Cecile for all of the great photos! Check out her blog here for more!

Foreground: Hokee.

Midground: Lila

Background: Julia, Hinto, Max

                                           

        

For the honor and glory.

Myth Busters: Sled Dog Edition

It is always an interesting and tedious game trying to recount my experience in the mushing world to those who have never been there. There are usually two preconceptions of sleddogs and the sports that I have to debunk within the first 45 seconds of the conversation, misconceptions that can be attributed to the Wonderful World of Disney and the wonderful world of negative journalism:

       

      1)   All sled dogs look like this:

 Or like this: 

and

 2) Sled dogs are sad creatures who have had their rights infringed upon and work like slaves for mushers. 

It is an unfortunate reality of the today's media that causes news consumers to believe that this is the case for every dog that has ever been placed in front of a sled. I am not so naïve to say that there are more than a few irresponsable and infamous mushers in the world; the bulk of exposer that the mushing community recieves is from this group of individuals. The articles about the rest of the community, the majority of the community are few and far between. Try to remember the last time you read an article in the news about the love, care, and time that most mushers devote to their dogs. Outside of the annual "living section" piece that is usually written in time for the Iditarod, there are far to few articles written about the mushers whose dogs eat better than they do, about the hours of petting and brushing and massaging, about the attention that is paid to every slight physical and mental change in every dog.

Maybe, just maybe you know the names Buser or Butcher, mushers whose love and care and hard work have been recognized from time to time outside the world of sled dog racing. It is a great injustice to the sport that so many people work and live with their dogs just like them, and yet face opposition from the media and therefore the public anytime they talk about their passion; these are the mushers with last names like Morgan and Gonsolin and so many others that I have had the pleasure to meet and learn from during my "survive-Canadian-winter-leave-college-and-become-a-musher" adventure.

So, to all of those unharolded mushers, I may just be a desert kid from Arizona, but I recognize your dedication to your dogs and the hours you spend in your kennels: the poop you pick up; the soreness in your back, your arms, your legs from carrying buckets of food, buckets of water, buckets of poop and bending to put on booties, to massage legs, to scratch ears.

I recognize you and I applaud you because you do all you do not for recognition, but for your dogs. Your passion is an example for people in any field, following any dream, interacting with type of animal or human being. If everyone treated people the way you unsung mushers treat your dogs, the world would genuinely be a better place.

This is what I like to call FaceTime.

Which I guess would make this Butt Time, because if there is one thing that a dog likes more than having his ears scratched, it's having his butt scratched. 

A beautiful moment...."Halona, I love you too, but please don't lick my mouth. I have seen you eat your poop."

Sun bathing in Canada really has nothing to do with tanning, as the suns rays are inhibited by parkas and insulated overalls. They are more of an act of rejoicing that for the first time in months, the sun actually feels warm instead of just being a useless ball of light in the sky, doing nothing to render the -35 degrees more bearable. 

For the honor and glory.