Sled Dog
Zairah was not a sled dog. She was a solid black, tall dog with long slightly wavy hair, an upstanding tail with a hook on the end, very hairy paws, expressive brown eyes and a long nose on a pretty face.
Zairah was a happy dog-always. She did not walk, she bounced.
Zairah was an Afghan Hound. Not bred to be a sled dog, she had one thing in common with the Huskies, her breed was an ancient one accustomed to extremes of temperatures, both heat and cold.
Zairah loved snow. A good two foot snowfall meant high banks surrounding the driveway and the paths to the barn. On our way to
the barn to care for the goats and horses, Zairah would leap from one bank to the other, frolicking like a spring foal, jumping back into the shoveled path to shake a flurry of snow from her heavy coat. Her eyes shone, her lips formed a doggie smile.
One morning when my 5 year old granddaughter was spending the weekend we woke to a winter wonderland. Fence posts stood surrounding the meadow with tall white hats upon their tops looking for all the world like British soldiers in marching order. Pine trees
at the edge of the forest bent low beneath their burden of the blanket of snow. I shoveled a path to the barn.
A neighbor arrived in his battered old pick-up truck with rusty snow blade on the front and cleared my long driveway.
Seanna, swaddled in her bulky snowsuit, rubber boots and mittens,
trudged forth after me to the barn. On the wall of the feed room
hung an old sled once used by my now grown children. We took it down, dusted off the cobwebs and pulled it out to the path. Seanna hopped on. I struggled to move the sled which barely fit through the narrow pathway I had shoveled. The metal runners, long unused, stuck. Finally I made it to the driveway whose surface was
smoother than my path, but by that time
I was tired, my shoulder muscles complaining loudly. Seanna wanted more--"Go more Grandma", she pleaded. I couldn't.
All this time Zairah had been bouncing around us in the deep snow.
I conceived a wonderful idea. All that dog energy going to waste!
So I took a few pieces of harness and a couple of dog leashes and designed a sort of pulling harness to fit Zairah. It was arranged so that the weight of the sled would pull on her shoulders and not her neck.
Zairah stood tall and proud as I fitted the contraption to her body.
Seanna sat on the sled, hugging barn kitty, Tiger lily, to her chest.
I coaxed Zairah forward a few feet. She immediately got in the spirit of things and with Seanna hollering "Mush--mush", they flew
down the length of the driveway with me clumping behind as fast as my big boots would allow. For a moment I feared what would happen when they reached the road. Should have known Zairah would stop and wait, since she was trained not to enter the road without me. When I caught up, I took hold of Zairah's collar and showed her how to turn the sled without tipping it or getting tangled in the traces. Back up the driveway they flew.
Seanna and Zairah reveled in this sport. They both had a wonderful winter holiday.
Not so sure Tiger Lil felt the same way.
Zairah was a happy dog-always. She did not walk, she bounced.
Zairah was an Afghan Hound. Not bred to be a sled dog, she had one thing in common with the Huskies, her breed was an ancient one accustomed to extremes of temperatures, both heat and cold.
Zairah loved snow. A good two foot snowfall meant high banks surrounding the driveway and the paths to the barn. On our way to
the barn to care for the goats and horses, Zairah would leap from one bank to the other, frolicking like a spring foal, jumping back into the shoveled path to shake a flurry of snow from her heavy coat. Her eyes shone, her lips formed a doggie smile.
One morning when my 5 year old granddaughter was spending the weekend we woke to a winter wonderland. Fence posts stood surrounding the meadow with tall white hats upon their tops looking for all the world like British soldiers in marching order. Pine trees
at the edge of the forest bent low beneath their burden of the blanket of snow. I shoveled a path to the barn.
A neighbor arrived in his battered old pick-up truck with rusty snow blade on the front and cleared my long driveway.
Seanna, swaddled in her bulky snowsuit, rubber boots and mittens,
trudged forth after me to the barn. On the wall of the feed room
hung an old sled once used by my now grown children. We took it down, dusted off the cobwebs and pulled it out to the path. Seanna hopped on. I struggled to move the sled which barely fit through the narrow pathway I had shoveled. The metal runners, long unused, stuck. Finally I made it to the driveway whose surface was
smoother than my path, but by that time
All this time Zairah had been bouncing around us in the deep snow.
I conceived a wonderful idea. All that dog energy going to waste!
So I took a few pieces of harness and a couple of dog leashes and designed a sort of pulling harness to fit Zairah. It was arranged so that the weight of the sled would pull on her shoulders and not her neck.
Zairah stood tall and proud as I fitted the contraption to her body.
Seanna sat on the sled, hugging barn kitty, Tiger lily, to her chest.
I coaxed Zairah forward a few feet. She immediately got in the spirit of things and with Seanna hollering "Mush--mush", they flew
down the length of the driveway with me clumping behind as fast as my big boots would allow. For a moment I feared what would happen when they reached the road. Should have known Zairah would stop and wait, since she was trained not to enter the road without me. When I caught up, I took hold of Zairah's collar and showed her how to turn the sled without tipping it or getting tangled in the traces. Back up the driveway they flew.
Seanna and Zairah reveled in this sport. They both had a wonderful winter holiday.
Not so sure Tiger Lil felt the same way.
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