Yes I Want a Puppy!

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As I closed my truck door in the darkness, I could hear howling through the trees. First one, then two, until all had joined and the forest vibrated with the rise and fall of their voices. The night closed around me on the way to my door. I followed the faint outlines of my footprints in the evening snow, moving faster, pacing myself to the beat of the wild playing in my ears.

Sunday was when I finally danced with these voices. Brent Sass, a Fairbanks musher and 2008 competer in the Yukon Quest, welcomed me to his home. I had attended a bonfire at his home two evenings earlier and had held one of the newborn puppies. Cameraless at the time, I asked if I could return sometime during daylight hours to take pictures.

That Sunday, after church, Melissa, Peppi and I parked the car near the driveway entrance. Dogs howled as we approached, leaping in excitement on their wiry hind legs. Brent has over forty mushing dogs that, when not our racing, are either chained to rings in the yard or in chain-link corrals. Wood dog houses, also called boxes, full of straw for insulation are situated next to every dog. To the left of the dog-filled yard is Brent’s home, a two-story log cabin that faces the road.

The snow was patted flat by boots and soft paws. Pine trees, their lower branches long broken away, shaded the yard from an overcast sky. I moved among the dogs, petting soft heads, and grabbing paws with my hands before they pressed me over. Close to the house was a corral of chain link. Inside each corral was a box. Brent opened the gate, Jerry, (named after the ice cream) nosed her face into our hands before running back to her puppies and Brent, who was in the process of pulling the lid of her box. The puppies, two brown and one palomino, were all males, and they squirmed and squeaked as daylight burst into their warm home of straw and fur.

I reached for the palomino, cupping his belly in my hands, and lifted him out of the box. He cried at the cold air, quieting as I held him against my black fleece. The puppy’s eyes had just opened, and he looked around dimly, before hiding his face in the crook of my arm. “They look like guinea pigs!” Melissa commented, and we laughed at the truth in their stubby faces.

We placed the puppies back in the box with their mother, Jerry shivered in excitement and relief at the return of her puppy. They nuzzled against her fur, searching for mouthfuls of warm skin and milk. The rest of us began to wander around the yard, petting various dogs, and continuing to take pictures.

Coming from Southeast Alaska, I had noted the differences in subculture of the interior during my stay. In Southeast, everyone fishes and hunts for recreation. In the interior, while fishing and hunting are also popular, activities involving dogs are much more prevalent. Even one dog, usually a former sled dog, is used for skijoring during the winter months, a time that spans almost half the year in the interior. Peppi had two sled dogs of her own that she had received from Brent. In the papers, whole teams and their sleds are often listed for free from mushers tired of the expense.

Mushing fever, the lifestyle of Carharts and bunny boots, is a life consuming activity. Many individuals forgo work and travel to care and train for their dogs. Work comes through sponsorship and investments, or odd jobs on the side, while travel comes from moving dogs from one race to another.

“If I lived here year-round I would totally get into the dog sledding culture,” I commented to Peppi as we climbed into the car. But as we passed trees and snow I stared out the window and knew that mushing wasn’t a life for me. But it is fun to visit, if for just an afternoon.

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Photos

Bored
Appearantly, we were not that interesting.

Me Want Puppy!
I fell in love with this little guy!

Brent Sass
Brent with the mother of one of Peppi's dogs.

Two is Better Than One
I should have been a dog musher.

Waiting for the Run
Sled dog chained outside the dog box, waiting patiently to be taken out for training.