A Little History.

This whole crazy idea started with volunteering at a horse rescue organization in Sonoma called S.A.F.E.R ( Sonoma Association for Equine Rescue) run by a tirelessly altruistic woman named Kate. Actually it started several months earlier with the gift of some riding lessons with ‘Larry’ in Petaluma, riding the Peruvian Paso. Hmm…the Peruvian Paso ….Larry…..I hear you murmur. Yes it was all a bit of a mystery to me too.  The wonderfully inspired Larry had Kate come to his Ranch/Stables to raise awareness to all those willing to listen about horse rescue in the area. I was sold and went on to volunteer my time,  wherein I came to be holding a horse called Lady (if memory serves me correctly, which it often doesn’t) for a lady called Kat , a qualified E.M.T and C.M.T, to massage.  A conversation ensued over Lady’s back, her head lowered and bottom lip slack and quivering in exquisite pleasure,  our chatter punctuated with the occasional deep sigh as she (Lady) began to release and relax , and by the end of the session I was hell-bent on learning how to massage  (sports therapy)  horses and dogs. Basically get paid for rubbing animals.  #cantbelieveitsacareerpath

Kat and I parted ways equally inspired that day. Me, to rub animals for a living, her, to build a house out of shipping containers.  Random but true.

I decided to tackle the dogs first, seemingly a little more accessible having had the most recent experience in handling. But I didn’t want to fall into some kind of rich person’s, boutiquey, massage parlor for pooches career. I wanted to massage rescues or working dogs, dogs that were suffering or had suffered and maybe palliative care.  There goes my halo again.  As far as working dogs go Greyhounds were out, which left me with Army or Police dogs, Guide Dogs, Therapy dogs (who, lets face it,  get enough attention!) or….cue drum roll….da dah DAAHH…..yes, the true athletes of the Canine world. The Sled Dog. It just so happened that for the last , oh several years I had been pining for Alaska , never having been, and cornering all who had been or lived there (thanks for putting up with me Bethany!) against the nearest wall asking a thousand questions.  I had also in that way started obsessing about the Iditarod. That great race from Anchorage to Nome. That magical, brutal, ancient, ‘other worldly’ sport of sled dog racing. Mushing. Face smushed into my laptop screen, pouring over pictures, reading articles, figuring out how long it would take me to drive there, researching volunteering, I plotted on how the hell to get close to this wild and wonderful life. I even subscribed to the Iditarod website ! Good lord.  Supporting the race, getting the latest news, watching the countdown and receiving in kind a fabulously kitchy poster which now don’s the wall in my room in true teenage dream style. I was a woman obsessed.

A lightbulb went on. The two dreams converged into one. I would learn how to massage SLED DOGS! By jove I’d got it! Of course I knew and still know very little about the whole thing, might never make it and it doesn’t really matter because it got me this far. I saved pennies and sent off for my home school Canine Sports Massage Therapy Certification program, courtesy of Equissage.

The final piece fell into place when my adventurous friend Cheryl had applied a year or so back for a Sled Dog Handler position with Oregon Trail of Dreams in Bend. It turned out to be a  live in position so, being the dedicated mother she is, was unable to follow through with it.  On confessing my latest obsession to her, Cheryl,  the queen of connecting people, dug up the contact info and forwarded it to me. I found them on Facebook and began stalking. Politely. The rest …. is history.

Turns out ‘working’ on Sled Dogs is not as straightforward as working on your common or garden house pet.  A pleasure still, but according to my rather outdated (sorry Equissage but you’re welcome letter is dated 2004)  instructional literature and DVD,  (circa late 80’s?)  things need to happen a certain way and in a very specific order to ‘get certified’.  Of course. Which I will duly adhere to. To get certified. But what with one thing and another, a major life shift went underway and my studies fell by the wayside. But now I am here, and there is no excuse.  I need to finish what I came here to do which, apart from simply having an amazing experience, is to get qualified and learn.

A few days ago and the very same day I had this re awakening of my original purpose , it was bought to my attention by Rachel that ‘Batman’ had re injured himself. He had been taken off mountain ride duties and would be in the play pen recuperating for a while and was available for some hands on should I feel so inspired. The play pen is a huge fenced area of land butting up against the dog yard, for the really old’s to wander to their heart’s content but be out of harms way. Theirs and others.  Ah ha! My first patient.  And so it begins.  The cycle of….well….something cyclical.

I will talk more about Batman as I start to work on him and hopefully see progress. I ventured out once so far and he willingly lay next to me in the dirt under the shade of some kind of scrub brush and politely let me try out some strokes, working from his head and neck backwards onto his sinewy hind legs, one of which is causing the limp, and eventually he rolled onto his back and stretched both his back legs out as straight as possible in utter ecstasy and full submission.

A success, I thought. For a start. There was of course a lot of interest from the older dogs and I had to stop intermittently and dutifully share the love by scratching or rubbing the offered chin or dusty rump.

I had intended to write in more detail about the virus, which has struck the 12 week old litter of pups.  It could be Pavo despite being vaccinated. though they were not sure. It’s too sad though. We lost one but seem to have saved another so far. Beethoven. A personal favorite of mine although I know having favorites or getting ‘attached ‘ so early on is a sure-fire way to heart-break and not the way of this lifestyle. There are a lot of dogs and a lot of puppies. Most make it but some don’t and that’s just the way it is. But I admit my eyes welled when  I saw him sick and sacked out in the pen looking at me with heavy, glazed eyes. I fully expected the worst after the fate of his brother, so when I walked out there in the morning at 6 a.m and only counted 4, I feared with a sinking heart he had died in the night.

Not so. Rachel and Nick had taken him into their home the evening before , given him fluids subcutaneously and cared for him so as he not only made it through the night but was up and walking around albeit slowly and weakly, exploring the inside of their house and avoiding the kittens.  I have to admit. It made my frickin’ day! Attached? Yes, so what! The puppy made it goddamn it!

The puppy made it.

I guess thats detail enough! Its really hot right now which makes everything harder and challenging to even go outside during the day. I continue looking for some steady extra part time work to support this adventure. I have a few paint jobs lined up which although I am grateful for, am not looking forward to the added manual labor. I retired from painting for God’s sakes! I am making plans to meet up with one of the organizers at Equine Outreach, an abused and neglected horse rescue operation here in Bend, and am looking forward to starting some Grant writing for them. Again completely inexperienced but am hoping to gain some and potentially make money doing this in the future. If I like it. And I’m any good at it!

Last night…

I wandered out onto the empty evening roads in Alfalfa and attempted to capture the beauty of the sunset over this rich, open farmland.

It was cool and peaceful. I love it up here and apparently I’m not the only one.

You saw it here first.

 

Everest. Part Alaskan Sled Dog, part ‘Cuddle’ Dog!

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