This is Michael Vick:

This is Michael Vick’s Dog:

This is Michael Vick trying to do a little bit of damage control. Never. Not. Ever…

…sorry for the little rant, but I just couldn’t believe it when I saw it on the news today…

“The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be judged by the way its animals are treated…I hold that, the more helpless a creature, the more entitled it is to protection  by (people) from the cruelty of (humankind).” – Mahatma Ghandi -

Ghandi was an awesome guy. On his scale, how great is Canada as a nation? On a whole, how do we treat our animals? Have we progressed ‘morally’ along our life path? Also, is a ‘pet’ considered an ‘animal’? Perhaps in some households, but in others they’re simply considered little children.

Usually, when I see quotes like this, I agree whole-heartedly; humans can be so cruel to animals with no regard, whatsoever, to his/her affect on another living creature. I must say, though, I have no problems squishing a spider or baiting a rat trap. I know Ghandi would be the kind of guy to ‘be one with everything’, but I still categorize animals in a hierarchy which places a dog over a rabbit…and I just don’t like bugs and vermin. Does that mean that there’s a vacuum in my morality cache?

Looking at it closely, I understand what he means. It caught my attention because, in my experience, it’s easy to be cruel without realizing it…to be cruel when attempting to do just the opposite. I know this is kind of twisted, but this is what got me started thinking about it: Sophie.

Sophie is a St. Bernard – a dog with a gentle nature and a love for the outdoors. Though I’ve been trying, I don’t think I’m giving her the home she needs – even though all the major elements are here: the environment, the health care, the food, and the love. But if you have to work during the day and it’s reached full-darkness by 3, what are you going to do at 5? Sure, you can take a walk…but that takes 20 minutes at the most. I can’t go outside of the town because of the polar bears (and being alone). I’m stuck.

Then there are the dogs of the north. The ones that are born and bred to be outside – some working, some roaming as family scouts when out on the land (the stockier scragly-looking ones are quite popular for this). But is someone morally bereft because he/she leaves her dog outside overnight? Sophie is always kept inside and, on a certain level, that’s cruel.

I don’t know. I wish Cesar would steer his tour up north sometime – according to my twitter account, he was signing books at a Pet Valu location in Toronto yesterday. I need some help!

Patience. That’s what I’m missing.

Earlier this evening I was sifting through some old pictures, and I realized that I had a shot of each of my dogs when they were only 3 months old. Gryphon, the pure chihuahua, is the only one that looks the same – and even that’s a stretch.

Check out my first furbaby, Scarlett, when she was queen of the household (pre-Cesar).

Scarlett at 3 months

Next came Gryphon. At nearly 2 years, he still only weights a whopping 5 lbs.

And, finally, the monster who I can no longer lead (Cesar, help me Cesar!), Sophie. By now - 6 months today – she must be at least pushing 70 lbs.

One of my students found out her dog gave birth to a litter of 5 pups and she wanted to pass one along to me. Don’t worry mom, I said ‘no’…

When I first moved to Qikiqtarjuaq, Scarlett, Gryphon and I were greeted with a scragly black dog; he sniffed and snorted, but basically just made sure that I wasn’t creating a disturbance in his area. That was fine…he just seemed to trail around the area and keep the kids together and away from the polar bears.

So ugly he's cute!

He was one of those dogs who was so ugly he’d gotten turned around to being cute again…not quite as bad as this picture, though!

Anyway, his name is the Inuktitut word for ‘Little Guy’, but I can’t quite remember what that is. You see, I called him ‘Ummikmak’ – the Inuktitut word for musk ox. To me, his matted fur just like a hide of one of those northern animals. ‘Umi’ for short.

Today I found out that Umi was hit by a car last Friday. I was wondering why I hadn’t seen him around. I miss him.

UPDATE: I got this picture from Dora, my student and Umi’s owner. I’d never actually seen his eyes before this picture!

Umi

Ya gotta love pink hair!

As anyone who knows me well can confirm, I love Halloween. I love to pull out that ‘Tickle Trunk’ of sorts and figure out just what I should wear. Actually, that pic on the left is from a Halloween celebration I had with one of my classes in the middle of August…why limit the fun to the end of June? Or February? Or October?

Well, this year it’s like the All Hallows Eve grinch snapped through and stolen my pumpkin. I thought it would be great to dress up again, get the dogs ready, and wait for some trick’or’treaters. That was, until, I was advised that it would be a better idea to put up my Beware of Dog sign and turn the lights off.

My pumpkin and ladybug...

Last year was more fun. At the time, I lived  in the brightly-lit part of town which was frequented by many costumed kids; these days, I do not. I thought giving out handfuls of treats was great. Wouldn’t you have smiled? Even though I was dressed as a witch?

…I’m not sure what I would have put on Sophie, but I guess I’ll figure that one out next year…

I really need to get a better picture of these three together...

I got back from Iqaluit yesterday, and today I went to pick up Sophie. So here I am, again, in Qikiqtarjuaq with my three dogs. This short trip made me realize so much about my ‘life in the doghouse’.

Scarlett and Gryphon are now amazing at travel. First off, though they don’t like the sweaters I make them wear when we fly around the Arctic Circle, I know it’s in their best interest. However, to be fair, I don’t really like having to deal with checking in and customer service…I guess we’re even.

For anyone who moves north with a small dog (or a cat for that matter), a simple sweater or blanket is essential for not only the jaunt from the airport to the plane, but also while you’re in flight. The planes heading to the small communities beyond Iqaluit don’t seem to have any heating to speak of. Fortunately, with both Canadian North and First Air, very generous measurements are allowed for the in-cabin pet carrier.

In addition, accomodations were far less stressful this time around; I’ve been lucky enough to get the little ones settled down and bark only if someone knocks on the hotel room door! Total turn-around. I think it’s just that they’re becoming more comfortable with the uncertainty that a new environment presents. They are there together and they know the won’t be forgotten.

For anyone stuck in the Iqaluit area, my vote for a pet-friendly hotel is Capital Suites. They charge a weekly fee of $50 for animals; whether you have 1 or 5…there is no difference (other than your level of sanity). The Nova and The Navigator also accept pets, but you pay a nightly fee per animal. The former asks for a considerable damage deposit. However, since the Navigator – it doesn’t even have a website – is in such nasty shape  to begin with, you might be more comfortable there if you’re worried about possible dog-damage. When I was stuck in Iqaluit with all three dogs last August, I preferred it for just this reason.

I wish I had had this sort of information on my first jaunt through the capital.

Anyway, that’s information on travel with the small dogs. I won’t be travelling out of the community with Sophie until my contract is up…it’s just too much trouble and worry. I’m usually on my own and, with a carry-on, 2 suitcases, a soft-sided pet carrier with 2 dogs, and a dog crate that reaches chest level when it’s on wheels, it’s not the most pleasant experience. Go figure, right?

So what’s it like to return to such a large creature? Returning means that you have, at some point, left and experienced new things which probably provide you with a new perspective. For a week I didn’t have to worry about pee runs, long walks, slobber, and hair on everything (ok, Scarlett and Gryphon lose hair like mad but, since it’s black, you can’t see it on my clothes). Doing without that headache was nice…very nice.

When I went to get her this morning she was jumping around like crazy and raring to go. Was she happy to see me? I’m not sure. However, she was estatic when I let her loose for her ‘free-run’ in the back field. That’s something that can only be done on the weekends since everyone has a work schedule keeps their weekdays occupied until long after darkness descends. By 5pm (when I finish for the day), all that’s left is a deep twilight.

Observing the improved behaviour of the little dogs this week and comparing it to the spastic quality Sophie generally exhibits is a huge eye-opener. She is moving into her adolescent phase of maturity (6 months), and apparently she’ll be like this until she’s around 2. Just like in a video game, I have challenges to fight through to make sure her adult life is one in which she learns certain skills before moving to the next level. Today, while wiping the globs of spit off my forearm, I figured that biting is the one I should focus on since potty training was established when she was merely 2 months old.

I’ll let you know how the dog training progresses but, for those dog owners moving north with larger breeds, be prepared for the differences in the quality of care and attendance to behaviour that you might be used to in the local dogpark.

Here it is, not even November, and I’ve already gone through all of the big chew-bones that I shipped up in my sealift. Since it was the first time I had put anything together – and it’s really difficult to foresee what a growing St. Bernard will need – I ordered a little bit of everything. The biggest hit were the big cow joint bones…

…and here’s the last one…

Gryphon is constantly trying to pull this away for Sophie...quite the power struggle.

You see, I didn’t expect to have the little dogs sneaking in and grabbing something that is so much bigger than their regular chews. This is that same bone with Sophie, the 5 and a 1/2 month-old St. Bernard…

The funny thing is how Scarlett acts as the ringmaster in the who circus. She usually stands back and just watches, then, when things look to be getting a bit rowdy, she ‘takes care of business’. “To the mattresses,” is that the expression? In this last pic, she’s defending Gryphon’s possession of the bone when Sophie got a little too close for comfort. You’d do that for your baby brother, wouldn’t you?

Craziness, craziness...

Wormy little creature...

Keeping dogs in the north has definitely been a mixed bag for me. For years I have had dogs, and I can’t imagine my life without them. Here though? It’s just different. The same reality does not apply…I guess that can be said about everything, but it’s human nature to start with a comparison, don’t you think?

I’ve never had to deal with a big puppy before. Well, when I was younger my family had a samoyed, but that doesn’t really count. Nope, not at all. The truth of this statement is that if you don’t have to pay the bills, pick up the poop, and take her on her midnight pee runs, you don’t really own a dog.

Now I can say that I do own a dog. A big dog. A big dog with big bills; a big dog with big poop; a big dog who pees a lot.

Now this big dog is sick. I’m not exactly sure where she picked it up, but Sophie’s got a nasty case of roundworms. In fact, it’s so far advanced, it’s quite possible she picked them up before we even got on a plane north! I knew she was a bit off, but it wasn’t until she started vomiting creepy crawlies that I got panicky.

…and what do you do if you have a sick dog so far away from a vet?

Right now I’m waiting for medication and just hoping the planes keep coming in…fingers crossed for the fog to pass!

Oh, and the other thing I’m hoping for? That my hands will recover from the constant washing!

When I decided to start this blog, it was a result of spending a year in northern Canada. Websearches didn’t really seem to give an accurate picture of what I would find. What about dogs who live in the north? Southerners bringing dogs north? Southerners bringing dogs south? Working dogs vs. domestic dogs vs. stray dogs? What’s it like?

Last year I decided to jump into a new adventure. Though I owned a chihuahua and a chiweenie, I applied for – and was offered – a position up near the Arctic Circle. Well, so many people were in line to take the dogs! Raayyt. Anyone who has spent 3 solid years with a fur-baby sleeping on his/her bed knows that it’s not an option.

Gryphon and Scarlett

So I did as much research as I could, bought all their treats, food, and pee-pads in advance, then jumped on a plane. Honestly, without them, I don’t know how I would have survived the dark season. Although they chewed my bone carvings and sealskin ornaments constantly (if I left them around), they kept me sane.

Keisha

My pack grew, then diminished, throughout my time in Pangnirtung, but the two originals were always stable. First there was Keisha, a crazy husky/lab mix with the sweetest disposition (for a husky mix), but who was not fit to spend time inside.

Rocky

Next came Rocky…he was a foster for awhile but, when he started to squirt all over the tables and chairs, it was time for him to move to the next volunteer.

Now this year, I’ve moved to a new community even further north…the small hamlet of Qikiqtarjuaq. Along with my books, computer, and snowmobile, I have brought along my two wee ones and Sophie, the st. bernard. Right now she’s a crazy 4 month-old who weighs about 50 lbs. Unfortunately, she is also impossible to get an updated picture of (though I’m trying).

Fall sunset over Pangnirtung.

I was trying to explain plagiarism to a class once and, for some, it was really difficult. There was no devious plot to ‘slip one by the teacher’, but everything written and spoken is some cultures is like a collection of ideas, accessible – and owned – by all. I’ve decided that my website is moving in a similar direction…or perhaps it’s just my thoughts. Scattered. Collected. Patched together.

At this point last year I was chipping away at another blogsite and ruminating about my new life in the north. This year I’m ruminating on how to change it. How to make it better. Don’t get me wrong…last year was a grear experience and I learned a lot, but I think there’s still a mountain of possibilities out there.

Where do I start?

The tides were crap today so, though it allowed me to drive all the way to the breakwater, it did not allow me to jump on a sea-doo. I guess it wasn’t meant to be. I guess Mr. Bus-Man wasn’t meant to be either.

Tonight the air is crisp and, while taking the dog out for a quick run around, I caught a glimpse of the northern lights for the second time this year. The night was so clear all you could see were the stars with the pulsating waves of green. Welcome to the north, right? I can’t wait until I’m able to take the snowmobile out onto the sea-ice, crack out my thermos, and watch the scene unfold above me…surrounded by complete darkness.

The update on the dogs is not good. It’s so unhealthy to have them cooped up in a hotel room, regardless of how often you walk them. Sophie’s favorite place to sleep is in the bathtub and, though it is very cute, it’s causing her to develop a type of heatsore…she’s never quite dry.

So the plan now is to take off on Friday to get back to Qik before the weekend gets into full swing. Though I’ve had mixed feelings on the idea, I think it’s probably for the best. I need to finally start things fresh. New place, new people, new problems, and new solutions. Being stuck in this Iqaluit middle-ground is so frustrating!

Well, if I head to bed now I guess time will seem to go a bit faster. Always good when you’re waiting.