The Westby Iditarod

It snowed all last night, and once again I awoke to a beautiful winter scene that filled me with inspiration. As I looked out on the pristine, new-fallen snow, my thoughts drifted naturally in one direction.









Dog Sledding.


See, if you hold the leashes of Hannah and Jackie and let Finley run free, they pull you quite enthusiastically. So I thought if I added a sled into the mix, fun things might happen.

I grabbed a sled while I was over at Noni's this morning, came back and got the gaggle of girls into their winter gear (Laura is home for Thanksgiving break), and went outside. Of course with something so unpredictable and potentially dangerous, I had to try it first, so I gingerly sat down in the icy sled, held the leashes, and gave the order to release Finley.

The 2 dogs gave one giant lunge forward.

And then stopped, because Mom has spent the last month teaching them not to tug on their leashes. Hmmmmmm. This time I tried it with the girls pulling, too. Worked great except Hannah kept stopping and getting her butt run over by the sled, and Finley ran in large circles around us, so wherever Finely was at the moment was the direction the dogs wanted to face.

The girls each got a turn as we worked our way up the little hill on my mom's road. Then it was my turn again before we headed back inside to let the sled dogs warm their little paws. If that happened right at the top of the hill so I got the best ride of anyone all the way down, well, sometimes these little coincidences happen. They don't mean anything significant.


It was great fun, but Mom has at least temporarily forbidden any further Iditarod training for the poochies. Some muttered comments about broken necks and shattered elbows. The dogs are sad they'll never be able to realize their full potential and chase their dreams.


The END (also known as my frostbitten butt after sitting on that icy sled in thin knit pants)