Here’s a snap of Xapka (pronounce the X here like “sh”) from March 2009. He’s nearly identical to his leader grandsire Shapochka iz Solovyev who came from Ekaterinburg, Siberia, and belonged to my buddy Ramon Rojas in Catalunya (northern Spain).

Xapka of Seppala is a small, conventionally-marked grey and white Seppala born almost four years ago, sired by one of my imports from Spain, Cocu de Sa.Ra.Be. de Cal Segu, out of Darka of Seppala. He is the grandson of Ramon Rojas’ Siberia import leader Shapochka iz Solovyev, and great-grandson of my own Siberia import Shakal iz Solovyev. Dog show people like Xapka because he’s nicely marked and looks more like “their kind of dog” than do most Seppalas. Well, let me tell you, the resemblance ends there!

Xapka has been one of a group of dogs that got backseated by circumstances. He was a youngster just as we were moving Seppala Kennels from the Yukon to Manitoba. He was never harness-broken when he should have been, in his first year of life. He has just vegetated in the kennel, never been in the house, never had any of the advantages. Not good, as he was a very shy pup to begin with. Nevertheless, somehow he seems to have transcended his lousy upbringing.

Xapka has decided he’s my boy; turns himself inside out when I approach his stakeout (he will still just barely touch my wife with the tip of his nose at feeding time). He puts out great waves of delight and affection towards me. A couple days ago I took him for his first walk on a thirty-foot line, and he seemed promising, so today on a hunch I did something crazy. I put a harness on him, brought my leader Lizzy Lineout out of the house, harnessed her, and put the two of them ahead of the mountain bike.

Lizzy was feeling sulky; the weather, or maybe she’s coming in season or something. She didn’t seem to be in the mood. But her mere presence gave Xapka all the confidence he needed, and to my amazement he took off at a strong lope. He went off the lane into the tall grass a time or two, and I told him to get back in the trail — he did! We gee’d out of the lane onto the grid road, and off we went, Lizzy just barely keeping up, Xapka loping strongly. Went half a mile down the road and stopped. I said, “Come on, Xapka, let’s turn around and go home, come, boy!” Lo and behold, he turned and came to me, went past me, and I easily got the two lined out for the return without leaving the bike.

On the way home Lizzy loped; she wanted to get back to the house. Xapka was a little winded by then and we went more slowly, but still strongly and in good order. All the way back to the house.

I haven’t seen anything like this since Tonya was a youngster! Hard to believe that this timid young male could turn in that kind of performance on his very first run in harness. A natural leader — how do I know? Because he *listened* to me every step of the way, and he tried to do what I asked of him!

I’m going to go get a bowl of yoghourt and try to recover from the shock.

What’s that black speck at the end of the magenta rope? That’s Tonya of Seppala, wishing that either the rope were longer or that Boss would move faster.

For years and years Tonya of Seppala was the poster girl for the Seppala Siberian Sleddog Project. She was Jeffrey’s main leader and constant personal companion. She’s spayed now, fourteen years and ten months old, hasn’t been in harness since 2006, is blind in one eye; and she won’t give up! Yesterday the vet found an enlarged lymph node beside her left foreleg, which could be the beginning of the end for Tonya. Her only comment is, “Boss, don’tcha think we’re gettin’ too friendly with the vetamarian these days?”

Today on an impulse I grabbed the long line. It was a bright, sunny, breezy morning. Tonya was in her tiny shaded pen under the Manitoba Maple tree near the back door. When she saw the long line she got excited. I snapped it onto her collar, and she blasted right past the truck as I fumbled with tangled loops of line. As soon as I got the line collected, Tonya headed right down the driveway for the grid road, right at the end of the long line, the same as ever. She stopped to empty her bowels, then took off for the end of the drive and turned left on the grid road. She knows now that a long-line walk has no urgency, so she took time to smell the smells and investigate wildlife scats. As soon as I could, I turned off the road and onto one of our alfalfa hayfields. The photo in the previous post was taken as *I* rested in the shade just after turning off.

She’s really happier on a clear trail these days, as her sight isn’t that great. She doesn’t think I know where I’m going, so it took some persuading to steer her through the hayfield. We did a big loop back to the farmyard with the yard dogs going crazy watching Tonya on the line. Back in her pen, she had a nice drink of cool water. I thought, “there, that’ll do you for the day, now you’ll crash hard.” Fifteen minutes later, she still hadn’t gone into her doghouse for a nap, but just stood by the gate.

Tonya is still tough as an old boot, I guess. If I wasn’t such a chicken, when it’s finally time for her to go I should just harness her up at lead in front of a Seppala team and let her run herself to the Rainbow Bridge. But I don’t have that kind of courage. I dread the day when she has to go, because I know she won’t go easily or voluntarily. Tonya, Tonya, Tonya…

Fourteen years and ten months old, Tonya of Seppala is one of those dogs that just won’t quit. It’s scary how game for anything she still is. Here she waits in the shade to resume a long-line walk on the grid road and through our hayfields.

I’m back to building doghouses again. I should finish #6 tomorrow. My design is simple but well suited to Canadian climatic extremes. Internal dimensions 22 inches by 36 inches, doorway 12 or 13 inches square, 4 inches of insulation beneath the floor and an inch and a half or so in the roof, integral legs put it 6 inches off the ground, flat roof with a 2 inch slope. Except for the internal floor and the internal ceiling it’s cut from a single 4 by 8 foot piece of plywood, with 2x2 and 2x4 framing, assembled with Ardox nails. The roof comes off for strawing and cleanout, and the doorway is raised so the bedding stays in. Looks like this:

Yesterday saw the beginning of new directions for Seppalas in North America. Three prime examples made their way westward from Seppala Kennels in Rossburn MB to Snowy Owl Sled Dog Tours in Canmore AB, where they will begin serious excursion work this autumn, probably joined by several more of their kennel mates. This is the kind of work at which Seppalas excel. Carlin Arsenault and her mother Connie are professional dog folk, the real deal, as became immediately obvious when they did a walk-through of the main SK dogyard - I saw nothing but positive reaction from every single dog.

There are possibilities of some interesting cooperative interactions between the two operations in future, if this all continues to work out.

Connie and Carlin have extensive past experience with mainstream Siberian Huskies, Alaskan Malamutes, Canadian Inuit Dogs and Alaskan husky/Indian dogs, a much broader experiential range than most mushers ever achieve. It is all the more interesting and significant, therefore, that they see a future for Seppalas in their line of business.

Hullo? Hullo? I say, this must be a bad line! Hullo, can’t you hear me out there in the wilds of Sled Dog Central? #$*##/ Ouch! That’s really bad static! What a lousy connexion…

So “dillon husky” (whoever the hell he might be) thinks I’m “getting out of dogs”! In his weird little dreams! I went back and checked what I had said on SledDogBlog which was (in part) as follows:

Please note that neither kennel [i.e., Seppala Kennels or Atholl Chinooks] is “shutting down” completely. We are keeping the best of our Seppala and Chinook stock according to our own very personal preferences; by most people’s standards ours will remain a major kennel both in numbers and in quality of its canine stock.

In fact, the whole thread over there sounds more or less as if some of these folks never learned to read. It also gave me a weird dejà vu feeling, a reminder of the discussion that took place on somebody’s email list ten years ago when the SSSD Project site was offline due to webhosting problems (pioneer days of the web in the Yukon), and some smart New England dudes and dudesses decided my web material was up for grabs. Some of my photos wound up on ConKC teeshirts and coffee mugs, used without my knowledge and permission, and there was general hell to pay. I see these folks haven’t learnt much in ten years.

But Jeffrey “getting out of dogs”? You wish! But dogs like Lizzy Lineout and Prince Ivan will have to be pried from my cold, dead hands, probably over the dead body of my wife as well:

Okay, I mentioned the McFaul/Shearer dogs, and probably nobody has a very good idea of what I was talking about. Here is an example of one of the last of Donnie McFaul’s dogs from the third “Seppala Kennels.” The photo shows Ditko of Seppala in 1969 at ten years of age when I owned him. I took him to a Southern Ontario dog show, where people told me “Oh, no! You just have to be joking! No way can that be a Siberian Husky!” When he entered the ring, he was placed over some fancy black-and-white Monadnock-type showdogs, because his movement was so effortless and flawless. Nevertheless, those folks were really right: Ditko wasn’t a Siberian Husky - he was a Seppala Siberian Sleddog. The Siberian Husky, by the late 1960s, had already morphed into something else altogether; it no longer represented the original Siberian draught dog.

This is what it feels like!  Just a snapshot my wife took this past April when I took Lizzy Lineout and big Prince Ivan out for a quick bike run. A little blurry, but a wonderful capture of the feeling of “Seppalas unplugged.”