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Published: December, 4, 2003
It’s not unusual for me to find paw prints stamped across the hood of my pick-up truck or car. Sam, Mo, and Bobby Joe, our resident “kennel” cats, seem to make it a point to walk across all of my vehicles at least a few times a week, right after dipping their precious paws in the nearest mud puddle.
If there was a “Survivor Series” for felines, these three cats would be in the running for the million dollar prize. Our 65 cat-crazed sled dogs are always waiting for them to let their guard down. But it’s usually the dogs that come away crying.
I have never minded the cat tracks on my car. Actually, I think they’re cute. But lately, bigger paws have been leaving their muddy marks on my vehicles. And I hate to admit it, but it’s all my fault.
It started as a game. When I would be hiking with my dogs, Borage and Jigs, I would always ask them, “Where’s the truck?” when it would come into view. They picked it right up. Even at a trailhead with several cars, they’ll always be running around my vehicle, excited they found their ride.
Borage, a curious sled dog, has always loved to jump on top of things and look down on the world. It started with his doghouse and moved to less appropriate perches like the backyard grill, any furniture (including a fully set dining room table), and a flatbed semi at a truck stop. I made sure that he knew everything was off limits but his doghouse. But my truck was different.
The first time I saw Borage standing on the hood of my truck, I just laughed, gave him a pat on the head, and told him to get down. He was so proud of himself for finding “our lost truck” that I hated to hurt his feelings. It soon turned into a habit. At the end of many walks, Borage would make a mad dash to the dog truck, take a graceful, flying leap into the air like a deer scaling a fence, and land smack dab on the hood. He would smile and not only wag his tail but his entire hind end.
I know it probably seems crazy, but at first I didn’t mind Borage standing on either of my two well-used 1989 vehicles. I assumed it was a cute little trick that would eventually be forgotten. But on a recent trip back to Indiana for my Iditarod fundraiser and school visits, I quickly realized that I had made a big dog training mistake.
With my sled dogs, I make it a point to be clear and firm when it comes to correcting bad behaviors. When you hook 16 huskies, all possessed with a mad desire to run, to one gangline, one dog’s bad habit, like chewing on the lines or fighting, can lead to a nightmare for the entire team. For some reason, I didn’t see that Borage’s silly trick could also turn into a nightmare for me.
Taking Borage to the dog groomer right when I got to Indy is what saved me. Along with his usual bath and style, I had his nails trimmed short. We had several media interviews and public appearances that week so it was important that Borage look sharp and smell sweet.
One day, Borage and I had 4 school visits in a row. I was in a hurry as I went to load my sled and gear onto my dog truck to make our next engagement in time. I let Borage loose to run and play in a field next to the school parking lot while I finished loading my things. I was tying my sled to the roof of my dog box when suddenly I heard heavy breathing in my right ear and felt something wet and slimy lap me across the neck. I jumped, screamed, and turned to stare Borage straight in the eyes.
My dog was standing on top of a shiny new, black Lexus 4-door sedan. I yelled at Borage, get down, now. He jumped right off and crept towards me with his head held low to the ground. “No, no, no!” I told him, knowing the entire time his bad behavior was my fault. I felt bad for him and the Lexus.
I searched every inch of the pristine black sedan looking for scratch marks or damage. Borage’s recent pedicure saved the day.
Borage hasn’t jumped on my truck or anyone else’s vehicle since the Lexus. I know that I learned my lesson and I’m pretty sure that my sensitive sled dog learned his. Now, I’d be pretty surprised to find canine paw prints on my Corolla.
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