You might assume that Dan and I and Theo are not dog people. That we have no place in our lives for any creature that barks and doesn't meow. Not true.
In Alaska, we're privileged to visit a place that trains dogs for the famous Iditarod, a yearly long distance sled dog race where man and dogs travel for 938 miles (from Anchorage to Nome) and compete to come to the finish line first. It's a grueling trek, requiring intense training for man and dog. But who are these dogs and where to do they come from?
They are huskies--some Alaskan, some Siberian, and of course, start out as puppies. They spend the first few years in a training camp with other puppies--the owners looking for those few rare dogs that can pull a sleigh through snow and sleet and ice, up and down mountains, across wide expanses of Alaskan wilderness. They race through blizzards, white out conditions, sub-zero temperatures and gale force winds. The wind chill can dip as low at 100 degrees below zero.
This is no task for the faint of heart.
Theo wanted to come to visit the puppies. We were concerned though that a cat roaming around near all these dogs would cause needless chaos.
"I'll be good," he promises us, but we've already decided.
"Too much of a risk."
His tiny face is looking through the car window at us, at the puppies he (maybe) can see from the parking lot.
The Iditarod is a tradition that began in 1973 in order to test the best sled dog mushers and teams, but it's now a highly competitive race. Each team has a musher and between twelve and sixteen dogs that pull the sled. Nowadays the winning mushers and their teams are local celebrities. The usual number of competitors is around fifty teams--most Alaskan--but mushers have come from 14 different countries. In 1985 the first woman musher won the race. The next year another woman won and then won again for the next three years. The fastest time was clocked in 2017 at 8 days, 3 hours, and 40 minutes.
Some animal rights groups consider the Iditarod animal abuse, noting that over 150 dogs have died during the race over the years. They believe the intense competition results in dogs being pushed beyond their endurance or capability.
All of these thoughts swirl through our heads when we visit the puppies. We are totally enthralled. In this training center, these dogs are loved and well cared for. They're trained from an early age to pull a sled and work together. They are prized for their potential.
We have the wonderful opportunity to pick up a puppy and hold him. He is the cutest thing and cuddles in our arms as if he wants us to take him home. We hear a story that a visitor fell so in love with a puppy that she tried to smuggle him out of the facility. So we know that as we're holding our gem, we're being watched.
It's interesting to note that we learn that these puppies--although cute and friendly when they're babies--are not bred to be someone's pet. They're not socialized for home living. They're taught the skills they need to pull a sled, obey commands. They're groomed for a grueling race.
Afterwards, Theo is all about sniffing. Me. Sometimes he's jealous. After all, I was cuddling a dog. But this time, when we get back into the car, he sniffs and sniffs and then seems to be okay.
"That little puppy was cute," I assure him, "but not as cute as you."
Meow!
