It’s been cold out. When you walk outside in the morning the cold air hits you like a slap in the face. It’s a great way to wake up. We’ve been slowly building the mileage up on the dogs. They’re back to doing 20 mile runs again. You can tell they’re happy to be running further but our lack of trails means we are simply doing more and more loops of the same. We tried venturing out onto some of our old training trails early this week only to discover how badly they’d been hit. The soft, small gravel that once graced these paths was swept away and replaced by large rocks that are not good for dog feet or dog wrists.
So, with that, we decided to pack the dogs up and head twenty minutes down the road to another set trails. Unfortunately, when we got there, we discovered the same thing: wash out. It was a little demoralizing to say the least. On the drive home, the clutch on our truck went out. It seems like its just been one misadventure after another or as they say: when it rains, it pours. While we’ve seen our fair share of rain, I’m happy to report that we’ve had beautiful, glorious sun shine for almost two weeks now. The cold is good for that.
The winds have been picking up slowly too. We wake to snow covered peaks then watch, slowly, as the snow gets blown from the mountain tops. The dogs are happy in their houses, safe out of the wind, their own howls muffled by mother natures’. When we’ve run the dogs, we’ve been tremendously impressed by the cadence and rhythm of the team. They move with grace, style, and ease. We’re happy at their progress, not only in terms of miles covered but also in how they’ve become their own unit. They are a team.
Watching their gate, the subtle movements of their legs and hips and shoulders all in unison, it’s easy to get lost in the moment. On a dog team is a very peaceful place. As we pass the trees with their shriveled leaves, it’s hard not to think of all that’s happened this last year. Fall has always seemed to be a natural time for reflection for me. The stark change between summer and winter begins settling in, and it’s impossible not to reflect on all that’s happened, as you see the myriad changes unfold before your eyes.
Last October was such a pivotal month. Humbling, really. It’s hard to forget the things that bring you to your knees. The dogs who made you, who changed you, and who inevitably had to leave you. It’s impossible to forget the dogs who got you to where you are today, so we’ve been thinking a lot lately about both Hatchet and Chena who passed away almost a year ago. Even though we are in a completely new home and have a completely new dog lot, it’s still strange not seeing them here. They would have loved calling this place home. I don’t think the pain of losing someone whether it be a person or pet, ever truly goes away, but I do think that time can wash over it, dulling it a little. We’ve found new things to pour our hearts into: new dogs to love on and who loves us, but there are always little reminders — like the pictures we print and display or the paw print you so desperately cling to. I like to think that each dog changes us, whether you have one dog or forty of them, and when you lose that dog a part of you changes
We’ve come so far since last year. It’s hard not to be proud of our dogs or ourselves. We moved. I started my qualifiers for Iditarod and Travis finished his. We bought a house. We started a business. We reclaimed our back yard. We built a dog yard. Travis signed up for Iditarod. We built a gift shop. We built a garden. We did many, many dog tours over the summer. We built a bunch of brand new dog houses and then painted them whacky, fun colors. We had 3 (thankfully small!) litters of wonderful puppies. We flooded. With help, we built a new dog yard. We made new friends. We are rebuilding our basement. We are rebuilding our giftshop. We signed up for several dog races. We went to a tourism conference. We are conquering the obstacles that are in front of us. We are working hard. We are going places.
