It's late autumn in the Yukon, with nighttime temperatures down to -10C and just a degree or two above freezing in the afternoon. The days have been bright and clear lately; there's still a little warmth in the low yellow sun. In the kennel, most of the bitches have come in heat. It is more than time to think about the next generation. We have quite a few bitches who have never been bred; quite a few males nine to twelve years old who haven't any progeny. The dogyard has been maxed out, nobody was interested in us for the past five years, so our breeding programme suffered.
Now things have changed. There's a little interest, finally. It's time to play catch-up in the breeding pen. We have a big exercise yard on a sloping, well-treed part of the property, about 55 meters on a side. Our canine couples can run around together in the afternoon sun, getting familiar with one another and bonding, while Isa and I sit on a log bench and watch. When things get serious, we are there to lend a quiet helping hand or restrain a nervous virgin bitch. Seeing our Seppalas follow one another around the perimeter of this big pen, backlit by the low sun, we see a natural beauty that makes show dogs seem grotesque and ugly. Seppala colours harmonise and blend with the northern landscape; their markings are often a quiet kind of canine camouflage. I would not trade the least of these guys for the Siberian Husky Club of America's National Specialty Winner.
Seppalas amaze me with their co-operative attitudes in all they do, even in mating. The males seem to expect that we will be present and help; some of them will not get down to business until they are sure we're ready to assist. The females accept and expect that I will restrain and hold them for the first (sometimes agonising) minute or two; if it's painful for them (as it sometimes is at first), they may bite gently at my gloved hand to say "owee, it hurts, Boss," looking at me sheepishly and apologetically, then lapping my face to assure me no harm was intended. Nature has played the dog a cruel trick in making mating such a tricky and potentially painful affair. I'm more than happy to stand by and make things as easy as I can for them, and yes, to take a record shot with my camera just to prove that the mating of these two particular individuals did actually take place as stated. Laugh if you like. It's cheap, easy insurance against the malicious rumour-mongering set, so of course they are the very ones who are most determined to ridicule.
I pay for my relaxation in the exercise yard on these bright days, though. When the breeding's over, I pick up the chainsaw and hit the bush, cutting winter stovewood. Chainsaw work hits me right in the lower back; I can't keep at it for very long. So I cut firewood one tank of gas at a time. That's more than enough wood to tucker me out hauling it in and stacking it, anyway. Tomorrow is another day; if we don't get enough wood in before the snow flies, then we'll just do what we did our first winter in the Yukon, and haul firewood out of the bush with the dog teams. Somehow I just can't quite imagine that on these sunny autumn afternoons. But the firewood is serious business, because this halcyon weather won't last long.
Posted by jjeffrey at October 15, 2003 07:55 PMReading about the next generation and old dogs so well described the joys and sorrows of sharing life with dogs.
There are some dogs who tell us that they are not getting enough attention and after breeding is done, usually by age 4-5, that we re-home. And then there are some who are such a part of our hearts that we could never part with them unless they also said they were not happy here.
As these friends age, they teach us life lessons on how growing older can be done gracefully and taking joy in life. Our older dogs as they have had arthritis limit their mobility, taught us how to notice their changing needs and help them up stairs or get a boost on the couch. Aches and pains rarely have made them grouchy but they never have shown senility.
Only once has one of our dog partners reached the point where she said life was not enjoyable and needed assistance in letting go of her body. She could no longer stand or even lay upright without help. There was fear and dullness in her eyes. We gave her a large dose of asprin. She lost the fearful look but still could not control her body.
We do have a vet we knew would do it right and he came to our home. While waiting, we gave her all the goodies she loved to indulge in. Beer, ice cream and she finally got to rip apart that special squeak toy.
We held her as she left, with words of gratefullness for all she shared with us for over 13 years.
She and other friends gone ahead live on in the coming generations. We also don't breed often and must make the decisions of when to breed and which to keep for breeding. Being cowards, we stagger our breeding so that there are no big age gaps. Losing several close together hurts so much.
It's been a relief to hear from people whose animals are part of their hearts. I've been in a heated debate with professional members of an ethology list who seem to think animals are either to be eaten or are slaves. One man who works in beef management criticizes any animal trainers who train for 'entertainment', guess that includes people who have sled teams for fun as having dominion over the animals who are stockholm syndrome victims and perform only because they are robots. I don't think this man has a soul or a fully functioning brain.
Anyone who has worked animals knows the partnership and 2 way communication and learning that goes on.
Here's to the next generation! May they and we all share many years of joyous life! And here's to the old ones and those gone ahead! Thank you for it all!
Julie