I guess it’s about time I update this blog. I could’ve sworn I wrote here more recently, but apparently three months flew by in an instant. I’ve also been making small but more frequent updates on Patreon, but I don’t expect (or want!) a ton of people to subscribe to that.
Where do I begin? I started my last entry with “The entire world has changed in the few weeks since I last wrote.” and this one is no different. The global pandemic seems to be trailing off in most places outside of the United States, and (thankfully) in the northeast. However, it seems to be thriving in the south and west, and as a country, we’re far from out of the woods. It’s hard to plan anything for the future, or to feel optimistic about it.
We’re also in the middle of a historical civil rights movement, which began in response to the killing of George Floyd by Minneapolis police. (Although police brutality and systematic racism Black people have faced goes well beyond Floyd’s murder) I’ve been trying to donate to as many organizations and funds as I can, but there’s still so much that needs to be done, and so much more I hope to do as an individual. For right now, I’d encourage you to find BIPOC leaders in your community and support them. Of course, vote, donate, educate, amplify Black voices, sign petitions, march, do everything in your power and use your privileges. But also, listen, and know when it is not your turn to hold the megaphone.
I know, this is a blog about a dog sled team, but human rights are incredibly important to me. If that bothers you, or if you prefer to bleat, “All lives matter”, you’re more than welcome to fuck off.
OK, so what else.
In my last post I wrote about chickens and gardens. Much has changed in the homestead since, unfortunately not for the better. To start, I killed almost all of my initial seedlings by planting outside prematurely. But that was only the beginning of my woes.
A few weeks into owning the chickens, they began free ranging a bit. I only let them roam when the dogs were inside, but I didn’t anticipate how much the sight (through the window), sounds, and smells of the birds would set them off.
The mayhem started after I had been kneeling in their coop, submerging my work pants in their scent. After tending to their needs, I went to the backyard with the dogs. Denali and Willow started sniffing my pant leg with great interest, and I didn’t think much of it. I wanted them to grow accustomed to the chickens’ presence, without putting them directly in their line of sight.
In a split second, the two girls were at each other’s faces, biting and snarling. I have no idea who started it, but my guess would be Denali, as she’s the more grumbly boss lady around here. The fight was gnarly, but I was able to get them apart by shoving one off the porch. I ended up bringing Willow to the vet for a 1” gash near her ear, but neither of their wounds were severe.
I’ll pause to mention that these two have fought maybe three times before, in the nearly five years I’ve had Willow. The last time was in Big Bear, and it was pretty mild by comparison. Aside from a quick crate break, I didn’t need to separate them afterwards; they both were over it fast.
I mistakenly assumed this fight would be no different. After the trip to the vet and several hours to calm down, I let the girls out together, and another fight happened almost immediately. I got it controlled quickly, but it was shocking to me. And, man, did I feel like an absolute asshole.
I proceeded to rotate the girls for a week or two (at this point I don’t even remember), until I felt confident enough to let them loose together with heavy supervision. Things seemed to return to normal, until one day Knox caught sight of the chicken trio roaming and set off a group howl. The excitement lead to a series of fights: first Denali and Willow, then Dexter and Hubble, and finally Willow and Laika. Thankfully no one was hurt and they were all minor scuffles, but obviously this was not OK. That same day, I reached out to my NoCo friend circle about rehoming the chickens. The next day, I loaded everything up and brought them to my friend’s place where they’re now living happy lives. It’s heartbreaking for me, as I’ve dreamed of keeping chickens for so long, but I needed to reset.
Once the chickens were gone, things improved almost immediately. The fights stopped. I restarted the crate and rotate cycle with Denali and Willow, but soon found they could be loose together without issue. I was proud and relieved. For about a month.
But then they fought again. I almost predicted it. We get Amish horse buggies passing the house every so often, maybe once a week tops. On this particular day, multiple buggies went past, and this fired the dogs up. Denali and Willow fought again. I did finally have a pattern, though: excitement (Willow rushing around/barking) and Denali feeling cornered. Everyone came out of this one OK, and I adjusted accordingly. I’d have to be careful in hallways and the backdoor area, where Denali feels more defensive. If I could avoid having them in those spaces, things seemed to be OK. They never had any fights in the big, open play yard.
Another week and a half went by with things once again going back to “normal” (whatever that word means). As we got into June, the temperature was high and the dogs were much lazier. I was outside working on my laptop and all the dogs were loose in the small dog yard with me. Denali and Willow had been lounging in the sun all day together without a problem. I let my guard down, I guess.
Denali was asleep on the porch and the younger dogs were milling about the yard. A robin landed just outside the fence and Willow leapt across the porch to chase after it. Just as she made her dash, Denali sprung up and, expecting an attack, lunged at her. The two girls began their typical brawl, but this time Laika joined in, so it was two versus one. The younger girls had a grip on Denali’s neck that screamed “life or death” situation, and I dove into the brawl. Denali bit down on anything she could reach in self-defense. This mainly ended up being me; she broke my thumb with her first bite.
Despite my injuries, I managed to pull the three girls apart. I threw Willow into the garage, Laika in the house, and made sure Denali was OK before getting everybody safely crated and myself to urgent care. They cleaned me up, took X-rays which confirmed the break, and set my hand in a splint. They also set me up with an orthopedic surgeon, expecting I’d need surgery to fix the bone. I cleaned Denali up when I got back home and gave her antibiotics I had on hand. My vet handled a few staples the next day.
My parents came up from New Jersey to help me sort life out, but the streak of bad luck wasn’t over. Within 48 hours of breaking my thumb, my dad stumbled in my hallway and fell down the stairs, breaking his wrist. At this point, it’s hard not to laugh (through the pain).
It’s been almost a month now and I’m cautiously optimistic about the immediate future, at least. I’ve gone through three splints, surgery to insert pins, and a hard cast for another week and a half. Dad’s had surgery to insert a plate in his wrist. Denali healed and had her staples removed.
As far as Denali and Willow’s relationship is concerned, things are strained. I have been rotating them between crates, gates, and the two separate yards. The only time I’ve let them out loose together is when we’re sitting on the couch and I’m physically between them. Denali is very wary of Willow while Willow actively avoids Denali. It’s not ideal, but it’s better than having two dogs that are actively out to get one another. It’s a rather dramatic misunderstanding that I’m hoping they’ll eventually forget.
If they don’t, then we’ll live with these adjustments. As Denali gets older (along with Dexter and Knox), it makes sense to separate the team into smaller play groups, for everyone’s safety and happiness. I’ve also been applying a bit more structure and enforcing more rules, mainly more time in their crates to “cool down” after play or while I’m cooking/eating. It’s been going well—they all run straight to their crates after coming inside. In the Covid-19 era, I don’t leave the house much at all, so they got a bit too comfortable with 24/7 freedom. That said, they all seem to enjoy crate naps in their own quiet spaces.
Mushing has been an ongoing learning experience and this is all part of it. My thumb might end up weaker, but I hope my character comes out of this stronger.
