Caribou In The Bathtub

Um, Peg, there's a caribou in your bathtub." A nonchalant comment made by a dear friend after she used the bathroom. Now there wasn't actually a whole, live caribou standing in my bathtub contentedly contemplating whatever it is that these herbivores think about. No, rather there was the frozen hind quarter of a caribou thawing in my bathtub. Where else would you put a 50 lb chunk of ice-encrusted meat, hide and hoof? The bathtub seemed logical then and it still seems logical today. That particular piece of caribou was later skinned - and yes on the bathroom floor - and fed to both me and the dogs. I think I received the best parts but the dogs may differ in opinion there. There was a minor skirmish over bone marrow until I discovered that the marrow tastes much better when the meat is fresh. So, am I grossing you out yet dear reader? I hope not for you see, this is a big part of being a dog musher. Sled dogs, particularly hard working ones, need more than just kibble. Ours enjoy a smorgasbord of caribou, moose, salmon, halibut, beef, chicken and just about anything else that we either harvest ourselves or that people will donate to our kennel. Last year an old mule named Daisy was donated to our kennel and she went on to nourish our crew all season. That's the way of things here in Alaska. It didn't make sense to her owners that after 36 years as a good, honest working pack mule that she be put to sleep and buried in the ground. So we took her, put her down quickly and humanely and used every last bit of her. In a way she carried on working through our dogs. Just two weeks ago a fellow musher sold off a bunch of silver salmon for 40 cents a fish. She had purchased it way back in the fall but climbing temperatures and lack of freezer space meant that the remaining stock had to be unloaded. We bought 160 fish and I'm still cooking up 7 or 8 every night for the dogs. The fish is mixed with their kibble and I swear that some nights the stuff actually smells pretty good!

160 Silver Salmon

In early August I put an ad in the paper for freezer burnt meat people will donate hundreds of pounds of food to our dogs. And then during moose season we get whatever can't be consumed by humans. There was a point last fall that every time I pulled into our driveway there were moose legs, ribs, spines and even a head or two waiting for me to cook up for the kennel. This fall I also got a bunch of moose hearts from the Anatomy teacher but I'll spare you the pictures in case you're eating! Needless to say our dogs are fat and happy.

A ton of kibble - literally

Now I bet some of you are wondering if the cooking goes on in the house. Rest assured we are not that primitive! Like many mushers, we've taken a 55-gallon drum and cut it in half. The bottom is left as is where a fire can be built in it. Then the top is turned upside down and place on a sturdy screen welded to the bottom. And there you have a dog food cooker. Feeding dogs is a serious subject and mushers will either tell you everything they know or will keep their routine and recipes to themselves - particularly if they're trying to win prestigious races like the Yukon Quest or the Iditarod. Me, I will talk about dog food all day long. And don't even get me started on one of the by-products of food - and that is poop. But we'll save that for another day!

Perfecting the Art of Being a Couch Potato

This is Spud....the one facing the wrong way and all tangled up. Despite his working Malamute and Alaskan Husky ancestry, being a sled dog is not his forte.

He earned his name by being as close to a canine couch potato as I've ever seen. Spud was born in the spring of 2006 so he is by no means an old dog. But he might as well be. His favorite past time is laying on something soft.

Even though he is not a pull-the-sled kind of dog, Spud is very good at certain things.

He is patient and kind.


He is a great sleeper.


He is able to tolerate extreme heat. I think he is in love with the heater shown below. It's set to automatically come on about an hour before I get up in the morning and when I pad into the living room Spud is parked right in front of, moments away from combustion.

He is excellent at warning us to a stranger's presence. The minute he hears a vehicle that isn't ours coming into the driveway he runs down the hall to the bedroom and hides under the bed. I once took him for a walk in the woods and we met a man walking his dogs. Spud ran and hid in the trees and I lost him for two hours. Now when we go for a walk he wears a blinking light so I can find his hairy butt.

And lastly Spud can create space where there is none. He likes to curl up between Darrel and I on the couch. Problem is that he's not exactly small and at 70 or so lbs he takes up a significant area. He used to have a lot more room to sprawl but now a few of our old-timers have moved into the house and so his life isn't so cushy.

Who couldn't love a dog with all these quirks?

Pester: Then and Now

Pester, aka Pester Pain in the Ass, is the son of Jewel and Zen. Jewel died two winters ago but let me tell you, she really isn't gone. Sometimes it amazes me how much of her is in Pester.

Jewel was a little sprinty kind of dog I got from a friend when she could no longer keep up with the top speeds of those fast dogs. She easily made the transition into distance running and was just about one of the sweetest dogs I've ever owned. She was a real dogyard dog - wouldn't leave the boundaries of the kennel and always worried when other teams did. She could be trusted to be loose and towards the end of her life the only time we tied her up was when we left home to go to town.

Three of her most endearing habits were this snorting sound she made when she was really happy, her constant woo-woos when you talked to her and her visits to the cooker when I was getting dog food ready. Jewel always came up for a tidbit and wandered happily back down to the yard, prize in her mouth.

And now there's Pester. He snorts when he's really happy and is a real talker just like his mom. Pester has taken the woo-woos to a new level for he always has something to say when I'm just in the yard. I don't even have to be near him. It can be a bit much sometimes and that's what earned him the pain in the ass part to his name.

Here's Pester then.

And here's Pester now.

Enough said.

Wrecking Crew

Solo is a one-dog wrecking crew. Remember the cartoon character Baby Huey? Big, sweet and not the brightest bulb on the tree? Well that's Solo.

She was born on Easter Sunday 2009 and is the daughter of Kiah (Malamute) and Mongo (Malamute/Polar Husky). We were sure the breeding hadn't worked so her arrival was a bit of a surprise. As the only pup it seemed natural to name her Solo. Here's a pic of her first day:

She was not like any pup we'd ever had. She was exploring her surroundings almost as soon as her eyes opened and more than once we found her amongst some of the adult dogs in the yard.


She also developed a fondness for small spaces, a habit which persists today. As a pup a tiny area to curl up in worked. Now as a more than 100 lb dog it's a bit more challenging. She'll belly crawl under the coffee table which is not a problem - until she stands up. More than once she has taken that particular piece of furniture with her.

In the truck she'd squeeze herself between the door and the seat and at night she'd curl up under the bed. Then she started to grow.

And grow......

(She's the same age as the other pup in this photo)

And grow......

(Solo at 7 months with then 9-year-old Amy)

And grow.....

(Solo at 8 1/2 months)

We think she's finally finished growing up but is not quite done filling out. She's an incredibly powerful dog, so much so that it's near impossible to hang on to a leash if she starts pulling. Solo is a monster in harness and has a beautiful, fluid gait I could watch all day long.

Her sweet nature matches her monstrous size. She's a snuggler and more than once she's pinned me on the couch or bed simply by draping herself over me. Solo loves to put her head against yours and she melts when you sing "Lolo Cabana" - with apologies to Barry Manilow.

She'll also occasionally lose her mind and get destructive which turns into a bit of a mess really. Last night I arrived home from work to find this:

How she managed to get almost all of the clean silverware into the fry pan I'll never know but at least she's cleaning up after herself now.

As dogs go she hasn't been terribly destructive but there have been adventures. A pot of noodles left on the stove one day resulted in the house being filled with propane. She had put her paws on the burner dial when she dragged the pot onto the floor and flipped it on. It took an hour before the place was aired out.

At one point we were duct taping the fridge door shut to keep her out. This was after she opened it and ate a loaf of bread, sandwich meat and leftovers. We've also had to use a eye bolt and hook to lock the door to the trash closet. Solo is nothing if not creative.

Despite the moments of exasperation, our lives our enriched by this Malamute giant. We wouldn't trade her for the world.

Here's Poop In Your Eye

Stalagmite definition - a conical mineral deposit built up on the floor of a cavern. Trust me - it's important for you to know the defintion.

One of the daily tasks of a musher is to scoop poop. It's a great opportunity to check in with your canine crew and it's also a time to ponder life's problems and mysteries. Sometimes I find myself thinking about racing, or a trip, or how blessed I am, but sometimes I just think about poop. Today was one of those days.

Anyone who works in a dogyard learns a fundamental rule very quickly - there are times when it's important to keep your mouth shut. Scooping poop is one of those times. A few of my dogs are, well, fastidious I guess. They go to the bathroom in the same spot and while the yard is cleaned regularly little stalagmites greet me every day. They usually have to be chipped at depending on how much they've been peed on. Gee, aren't you enjoying this blog?

The thing about chipping at frozen poop is that if you don't hit it just right with the shovel then little chunks fly off in every direction, including into an open mouth.

And this of course leads me to another kind of stalagmite. The one that builds up, literally, in the outhouse hole. Their sizes vary depending on the depth of the pit and how long the poor unfortunate soul who drew the short straw waits to tackle this nasty chore. If any of you reading this have plans to come to Alaska and live a wilderness lifestyle please heed this most important piece of advice. Never, ever, ever, try to use a chainsaw on your poop stalagmite. Chainsaws tear, they do not cut. And the surest way to be covered in little bits of rapidly thawing crap is by using the chainsaw. Stick to a hatchet or a pick.

Now that we've covered number 2, let's move on to number 1. Particuarly the glacial number 1.

Boy dogs like to lift their legs and pee on their posts, houses, nearby trees and even the dog running beside them. We have a couple of males with issues who continue to pee like girls but I digress.

A pee glacier builds up where they lift their legs and we like to chip those away. It looks nicer and in the spring the dogyard doesn't smell like urine. Two of our boys, Bart and Glacier, have their chains around trees instead of on swivels and so today I decided to free their chains so they'd spin freely around. Bart in particular loves to run in wide circles, jumping on his house and leaping off in seemingly one motion when he's excited. It's fun to watch.

So there I was with my little hatchet in one hand and using the other to keep these super friendly dogs away from the blade. Now wrestling an 80 lb dog with one hand also involves reprimands and admittedly a few cuss words. And since I'm not a ventriloquist that means my mouth was open. A lot. Right at the time a few of those blows from the hatchet resulted in pee-sicle chips landing in my mouth. Yup, I gagged. If they weren't landing in my mouth they were flying into my eyes, my hair and down my shirt. I need a shower!

Here's a couple of pictures. No not of poop. I'm not that hard up for blog material. The pics are of our monster Malamute Solo at 9 weeks on a camping trip and then at 16 months in front of the same tent. I figured you might want to see one of our poop producers.

Warm Days Are A Comin'

People, the ones who don't live in Alaska, often ask me how we live when it gets to 30 below and colder. During a mercifully, brief cold snap last week I was thinking about how different it really is when the mercury drops and so I thought I'd share. This is most definitely not "Sarah Palin's Alaska."

First there's the vehicles. Our oldest is the Chevy pick-up, affectionately named Charlotta, who is nearing 30. The newest is the Cavalier which is a mere teenager at the age of 15. In between are the van and Betsy Ford, the dog truck, who are both 16.

A rear seal on the van cracked during the last 30 below temps and it hemorrhaged oil - took 6 quarts to cover the 14 miles from Fred Meyer to home. For now the van is on the injured reserve list.

The timing was good because of the school holiday so we don't need to worry about my transportation to work right now. Darrel drives the car to work and I drive the pick-up when I need to get to town. Which brings me to the next point. Charlotta is old - very old and requires special handling. I have to plug her in for at least 3 hours before starting, cycle the glow plugs twice and then warm her up for at least 20 minutes.

It usually takes me 2 or 3 tries at getting out the driveway because everything is so stiff and when I do get out we clunk, clunk, clunk down the road until the tires have warmed up and resumed their normal round shape. The heater doesn't really work all that well so one is wise to put some handwarmers in their gloves in this kind of cold. And try not to breathe too hard because you'll frost up the inside of the window.

Deep freezes also mean that the propane for our stove no longer flows and meals are cooked on the Coleman camp stove. Ever try to cook a Christmas dinner on 2 burners? Challenging indeed.

We live in an old mobile home built in California for California weather. Hopefully it's our last winter in it. The walls are 2 by 4 and insulation is apparently not a necessity in that part of the world. My slippers are an excellent gauge of the temperature. If they're stuck to the floor in the morning it's at least 30 below.

I can't mop the bathroom floor in the winter because I create an ice rink if I do. We have to use the hair dryer to thaw out the trap from the bath tub so we can shower and the hair dryer also thaws out the hose running underneath the kitchen counter to the outside tap for the dog water.

Ice builds up on the inside of our windows when it's really cold. The hair dryer comes in handy for that too. We put plastic up on the inside of the windows which helps a bit but it's still drafty.

(Darrel melting ice on the kitchen windown)

And the surest sign that it's really cold outside is when I wake up unable to move. Am I suddenly stricken with some sort of paralysis? No. Spud, Snoop, Candle and Solo are all on the bed. This must be what it feels like to be in a puppy pile.

(Snoop is not a morning dog)

Working outside at 30 below requires layers of clothing. As long as I'm moving in that kind of cold I find myself wearing just my Carhartt bibs, long underwear and a heavy sweat shirt. Any more than that and I start to sweat which is dangerous - as soon as you're stationary you cool rapidly and are prone to hypothermia. The trick is to find a good pace that keeps you warm but not overheated. And when you're going to be less active it's time to add the layers.

I guess in the end you just learn to live with what you have. Me, I don't mind the cold. Sometimes it would be nice to be barefoot on the floor, or not have to thaw something out before you can use it but the stuff I get to do here in Alaska and the things I get to see make it all worth it.

B.A.R.K.

B.A.R.K. - a sound a dog makes but it also stands for Buy A Round of Kibble. My friends Claudia and Lee Nowak, from Traverse City, Michigan came up with this awesome way for mushing fans to help support their favorite teams. We have the B.A.R.K. logo on this blog and I thought I'd explain how it works.

Having a kennel of sled dogs is an expensive proposition and dog food is a big part of that. We're serious about nutrition and feed a high performance food which means our dog food bill alone runs about $9,000 a year. This is just for kibble. We have awesome friends who provide meat and fish for our crew. Our dogs enjoy moose and caribou scraps and salmon and white fish during the cold winter months.

Last year a woman generously donated her aged mule to our kennel. Daisy was 36 years old and worked her whole life. The woman didn't want her to be put down and buried, but she felt that by giving her to a kennel Daisy would continue to make a contribution. We made sure her death was swift and humane and she provided our dogs with nourishment and strength last winter. Sometimes a musher will be called upon to put down a horse that is either old or has broken a leg. The meat is never wasted. That is just part of how life is lived in this part of Alaska.

In addition to the food bill we spend money on veterinary care, harnesses, sleds, lines, booties, nursing the dog truck and race fees. I'm pretty sure the IRS must shake their heads in wonder when we file our tax returns. Whoever reviews ours probably spends a lot of time googling expenses like "S-hook tool", "QCR plastic" and "ganglines." They are probably also stumped by why we spend $250 on dog collars, $2,000 on dog booties, $1,500 on harnesses and $800 on rope.

We have met so many wonderful dogmushing fans over the past few years and have often been asked what they can do to help. I was never able to really give a good answer. I didn't want to say "Well how about buying 80 new harnesses at $25 each?"

But now there is B.A.R.K. How it works is that a person can call up Cold Spot Feeds, our supplier, at 907-457-8555 and purchase a bag or two of food for our dogs. We feed Red Paw 30/20 and we also supplement with a high fat product called Energy Pak (40 lb bag) in the winter. The Energy Pak is a powdered supplement we add to their food. Cold Spot will know if we already have the Energy Pak we need. You can also get onto their web site at http://www.coldspotfeeds.com/ and order food. It's important that you mention this is for Tailwaggers Kennel. Email us at musherpeg@gmail.com and let us know if you've purchased something so we can pick it up and more importantly, thank you for your support!

Now when folks ask what they can do to help I can tell them about B.A.R.K. It's a great way for a mushing fan to support a kennel when they can and I can tell you that the dogs definitely appreciate it!