Ruca Dog Kennel

We were recently the VERY lucky recipients of 1600lbs (you heard me!!!) of meat for the dogs.  The dogs eat a thick, meaty broth for their breakfasts, that is made from 50lb blocks of a frozen beef/chicken/egg/bone meal/fat mixture.  I quarter the blocks and feed 1/4 to 1/2 a block a day in broth form, depending on the weather and how much they are running.  Unfortunley, the entire state of Alaska ran out of the meat we feed in May, and while I still had some, there was not enough by any means to last until September or October when the new meat orders will arrive in Palmer.  So their diets have been changed to only eat meat once a week to make it last.  Something I really hate to do is change their diet.  I have several dogs who are hard keepers and very dog food sensitive.  We have a solid, established routine that they do well on, so it was mildy distressing.  A local distributer that I didn't know about, who sells a different brand/concoction of meat though, had his conex freezer die on him and had 20,000lbs of meat that he needed to get rid of STAT!  We happily took what we could as did several others mushers I know.  Blessed! That is what we are right now!!!  With this extra addition of meat, which will save us about $1300-$1500, the possibilty of running a few races this winter opens up...I'll keep you updated!

Life is good at Ruca Dog Kennel..Summer is here, the dogs have turned into a heard of mini cows when we go on our nightly walks...eating grass instead of romping around..well, they still do that, but the eating of grass comes first     We had a foster dog for 3 weeks and found a home for her!  So short of an amount of time I never even got her on the blog.  She went to a great home with a co-worker so I get regular updates on her, which is nice.  Here is some picutres:

Bridger..snoozing..

Freddles..being a happy, well adjusted dog..most of the time..

Her momma Snow..looking pretty fabulous!

Before..

And after...

My mini cows..

Peebadee..Sweet and innocent..with an evil plan..

Happy Birthday Sista!  My older sister turned 30 on the 26th of April.  She will be coming up this summer to see her dog family..Here is a bio I recently discoverd from the company she works for, website:

Ms. Jessica Drum Jessica Drum, a Senior Analyst at Gryphon Scientific, has several years of analytical experience reviewing and assessing policy related to international security and nonproliferation. Jessica holds an MA in International Policy Studies with a Certificate in Nonproliferation from the Monterey Institute of International Studies. While at the Monterey Institute, she worked at the Center for Nonproliferation Studies as a Research Assistant evaluating critical open source literature on developments in Egypt's nuclear and missile programs for publication. She also authored a paper for the Nuclear Threat Initiative titled: "Vying for Influence: Saudi Arabia's Reaction to Iran's Advancing Nuclear Program." Following completion of her graduate work, Jessica went on to serve as a Nonproliferation Graduate Fellow with the National Nuclear Security Administration's (NNSA) International Nonproliferation and Export Control Office. She concentrated on their Middle East portfolio, coordinating export control outreach and trainings with technical experts from the National labs, foreign governments and domestic partners. Prior to earning her MA, she studied Arabic for a year at the American University in Cairo. She also holds a BA from Colorado State University in Political Science.

We, obviously, live very different lives.  She can still pull on a pair of carhartts and roll with the dogs when she comes back up.  Love you Jess! Happy Birthday!

http://redoubtreporter.wordpress.com/2011/04/06/gee-haw-heal-%E2%80%94-recovering-car-crash-victim-has-ride-of-her-life/ ;

Follow the link!

And survived the whole week with the dogs..and I think, might have prospered..Here is some pics..

Danni and I..She came out with us to welcome him to AK.

The cousin and I..who has a name, but I just call him cousin.

Making friends for life...you'll notice Fiasco in the back ground trying to catch Zak's attention..or trying to rape him...potato patato..

The all loved him..

The Beach!

My fab friend Val cooked for us..because apparently when people come to visit you have to feed them..somehting I didn't plan for..or think of...

Ran dogs.

And were granted that perfect, pink and orange sunset..

W went snowshoeing...and it turned out we really didn't need the snowshoes...and brought 3 white dogs..

Who were really tired at the end..

Madlibs at Moosequitoes..I'm done, Zak is trying to finsih and Val "Hurry the hell up!"..She's OCD..

You know your cousin is the best when he lets Lihsto the 100lb beasto sleep on his lap on the couch with him..

 Gnarley!

I'm sweeping on my couch..

With my ball..

A Coho run last week.

Pretty wonderful dogs..

Hello! We are back in it..full swing, with tails wagging.  The last few months have been busy, productive and uplifting.  We started fall training and the dogs, for having taken all last year off basically, are doing amazing.  The temps are still warm, but we are adjusting when we run and dealing.  I'ts not so bad, knowing that everyone else is dealing with the same situations we are.  The dogs fence has finally been completed, so now there is 5 seperate pens and they have 2 full acres fenced in to run with..and are they ever happy!  Here is some pics..and hopefully video (if it will load) of us..

Im eating a moose rib..leave me alone..

I'm eating a scapula!

These dogs are pretty fantastic..

Knoxon and Knoakes...while they had fun..in pictures Knoxon still manages to look like a freak...huh..

Whew..

I dug this hole..and now I need to sleep in it..

Hi.

Sorry about the lengthy delay in posts and updates, we have been recouping, reevaluating and figuring out what everything means..nothing to deep   This is a quick post to let you know we are alive and are starting fall training this week and will post pictures later this week. Here are a few to tide you over..

Kayaking in valdez for my birthday at the beginning of August..

Boone, Boone the poop balloon and Fiasco..whose names really says it all..

As I reread Malo’s obituary, I realized what an aggressive dog it made him sound like. The truth was, yes, he was an aggressive dog, but even with that, I never felt he was an unsafe addition to the dog yard. We were like every other dog yard I know; there were dog fights. But compared to what other mushers have told me, even ones with free run kennels like mine, the fights here were few and farther in between than normal. My dogs get along. There are ones that don’t like each other, ones that don’t play with anyone, and the timid and shy. But they have never fought brutally. What changed April 7th, I don’t know. The social structure of 20 some odd dogs is ever changing. But this, such a drastic change. I have gone over it in my mind every day since then, multiple times. Was something different about Malo; a sickness I didn’t yet know about? Did a neighbor dog come by and antagonize them? Was it just a fight that got out of control? I can count on one hand the number of times I have come home and realized there had been a fight while I was gone. If it had been anything more than that, different precautions would have been taken to ensure safety. But this, this was so different. The violence and level of extremity.

I ran into a fellow musher friend today at school who talked to me about our other, mutual friend, who lost their dog last week also. One of the first things she said was that how they didn’t seem to be getting over it. And then told a story of how her, free running dogs had gotten in a fight, after their eldest dog had died, and how the whole social structure had changed. She didn’t know what had happened with my own dogs, since I have kept it to myself. But it left me with this overwhelming feeling of how few people there are out there that understand how I, and a select number of my friends, feel about our dogs. I understand that most people don’t feel like their dogs are their family; not to the truest extent, but the feeling of aloneness, is, nonetheless, there.

Malo was an incredible dog. As a member of the team, he was strong and enthusiastic. He was always ready to go and a great eater. Until his third year, he was basically crap as a sled dog, which I understand is contradictory to my previous statement. I actually had someone tell me they would kill him for me. Low and behold, we don’t talk anymore. He would pull on some runs, the first 5-10 miles, or the whole run..depending on what he felt like. But I always trained him with the race team, because I knew he had the potential. Last winter, when we trained to race, he came through. I knew what he was capable of and so did he…he was just waiting for the opportunity. He was solid and consistent, a wheel dog extraordinaire.

He is gone now. I don’t what this means, besides this gaping hole, full of sadness. While melodramatic, it is the truth of life now. I am scared every time I leave the house. They stay on their houses while I am gone, but still; who knows what can happen, that I will come home to. The worst part is there are no answers or solutions. This is all new territory.

This is all my own fault. Once again, not to be melodramatic. But one thing I pride myself in, what I spend my everyday life 100% intertwined with; is knowing my dogs. I know their barks, howls, growls, play and eating habits. Who they like and don’t, their body structure and nutritional needs. Their running styles and how they respond to positive and negative reinforcement. But none of this could have prevented this. I don’t know what any of this means this. I am still in the lost category.

    Malo died April 7th. As I write this, in Microsoft Word, it marks his name as a misspell, which, in itself, infuriates me. I adopted Malo August 7th of 2005, the same year I got Brohde. I was still living at my parent’s house, with 3 large dogs, and on the way up to Talkeetna for a music festival. A friend had called the night before and told me about him being at the pound, but I had said I didn’t want him. After thinking about him all night, we stopped by on our way out of town the next morning to get him. He was 3 months old, with towering ears and ice blue eyes that dominated his face. That first night, when he pooped, it was a straight line of rocks. I should have taken that as a warning. But in that stage of my life I was still naïve to all the things of the world that can be bad for your dog. From childhood you learn to not feed your dog chocolate, about dogs chasing cars and getting kicked by moose. You learn the basic dangers of the world, of the minor possibilities of the bad things that can happens. But you really have no idea. He was full of attitude from minute one. An example from the first day: He was sleeping in the van on the drive up to Talkeetna and when I went to move him he woke up and growled at me, all teeth and seriousness. I was shocked, stunned and a little scared to be honest. I had had puppies, but looked at him and was slightly clueless. We learned the rest of his life together.

    He grew up with the dog yard and while loved to play with the other dogs, was always the most aggressive male out there. He would guard a piece of ice he was standing by, the dishwasher he was sleeping by, my plate of food he felt he had seniority over or anything else that he felt was his. If a fight was started it normally had something to do with him, and yet he was still such a good boy. I know that sounds contradictory, but you have to understand having a pack of dogs and how they interact with each other to understand that. When you only have 2 or 3 dogs, or even 20 – 30 dogs, but they live on chains, the social structure is completely different. I trusted this structure, which had proven itself time and again over the last 5 years, which was my tragic mistake.

    I came home on April 7th and looked out at the dog yard. I had just gotten home from class and was motivated to clean house and do projects. Everyone was free running while I had been gone, as they had, every day for the last 1800 or so days. I looked out at the dog yard, identifying faces, really just doing a scan to make sure they were all okay, and seeing them all stare back at me, calmly, waiting for me to open up the gate to let them up into the up-house pen. I don’t normally let them up right away. I usually change my clothes and do a couple things, one more important play in the ever constant, shifting social dominance structure of a pack of 20ish wild sled dogs. I did a couple chores inside, and then decided to run over to a friend’s house to borrow a tool, where I took my time, catching up. When I got home, I was on the phone to a friend, when I, once again, did a scan of the dogs outside. Only this time I hung up, saying “I have to go, I think I had a dog fight”. I went outside and quickly realized how far of an understatement that was. There were 10 or so dogs with blood covering their faces, some with visible cuts and gashes. As I mentally went through dogs, he was one who I realized was missing within a few seconds. Looking for him, I saw at the end of the dog yard, where multiple dogs were coming back to and saw his body. When I approached, I realized it was worse than anything I could have ever imagined my dogs were capable of. There was a thick blood trail leading to him, where my dogs, my family, had not only killed one of their own, they had then eaten his abdomen out.

    This scene has replayed in my mind every day since then. It is a constant behind my eyes at all times. A feeling of nausea and almost hysteria that doesn’t dull or even lessen. This horror that my boy went through before he died. How scared and in pain he had to be and that I wasn’t there, or even worse, that I was there and was just being too selfish and taking time for myself, doing something that didn’t really need to be done. I don’t know where this leaves us, my family of dogs and I. I know few people who understand what this could possibly mean for us. The few people I have told about what really happened have, by now, 2 weeks later, think that I have gotten over it. One asked why I was being quiet and if I was still upset about my dog. I don’t trust the dogs now. They have to stay on their houses now, every time I am gone. When I leave, they have to get put on chains, that limit their freedom. The main thing I have worked for, given up everything for, this freedom off of chains, such a contradiction for sled dogs, and all that I strive for every day, is done. It is gone.

    A week after Malo was killed; a friend updated their kennel blog, telling their tragic story of how one of their dogs, people who consider their dogs family members, had hung itself. This not only brought sorrow for them and that they would have to feel this way, a way I feel now, every minute of every day, but now also founded fear of every bump in the night. Everything can kill or hurt them, nothing is safe. Everyone I love is in danger, at all times, and I can’t be there at all times to keep them safe. And worse, I can’t even imagine all the things that are the bumps in the night. I don’t know what this means for us, for them. I can tell they are confused. This restriction alone makes them more aggressive, a little crazier each day. But the terror I am now living with, every time I leave, that I will come home and find one of them gone to something I couldn’t foresee, is in my throat now at all times. I love you Malo, I’m so sorry that I let this happen to you.