About the Siberian Husky

Sleddogs.
Harnessed, ready for the moonlit run,
The Dance.
Winterdance.
Dogbreath frozen on dogfaces,
On dogsmiles,
Doglaughs.
Noses to the sky, they sing.
Little jets of steam coming from their mouths.
And the snowdance begins!

Shirlynn Lepre*

*Printed with the permission of the author.

---

© by Barbara Branham. Drawings may not be used without the artist's permission.

Contents:

A Brief History of the Breed

Endurance, Fidelity, Intelligence

So now you think you want to own a Siberian Husky

Siberian traits you should be aware of

And even after all this you still want a Siberian?

A few words about puppy mills

© by Barbara Branham. Drawings may not be used without the artist's permission.

A Brief History of the Breed

The origins of the Siberian Husky lie with the Chukchi peoples of Eastern Siberia. Its history is difficult to trace prior to its introduction to Alaska at the turn of the Century. This is because in the 1930's the Soviet government developed a breeding program for northern working dogs which discouraged the breeding of the Chukchi dogs. Today the Siberian Husky is known as an American breed. It was recognized as a pure breed by the American Kennel Club in 1930. In 1932 the first breed standard was published.

Siberians were probably brought to North America during the Alaskan gold rush. Dogs from all over the United States and Canada were pressed into service but the Siberian import was especially well suited to the harsh conditions encountered in the arctic. Soon the dogs were proving they packed a lot of power in their medium-sized bodies. They excelled not only as sled dogs but also in racing.

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Endurance, Fidelity, Intelligence

In 1925 an outbreak of diphtheria in Nome made the Siberian Husky world famous. While many dog teams participated in the desperate relay to get the life saving serum to Nome in time, it was Leonhard Seppala's team that carried the serum 340 miles of the approximately 650 mile distance between the pickup point and Nome. The longest leg for any of the other relay racers was 53 miles. Togo, one of Seppala's lead dogs, can be found in most American Siberians' pedigrees today if traced back far enough. Even though Seppala's team had traveled 80 miles without rest as they approached Norton Sound, Seppala felt the dogs were strong and could go on. Togo and Scotty led the team through a brutal storm across the dangerous shifting ice. Weather officials had earlier warned that there was a bad storm brewing and that the ice was breaking up. Nevertheless, Seppala and his team finally delivered the precious serum into the hands of Charlie Olson at Golovin.

At Bluff the serum was turned over to Gunnar Kasson and his team led by Balto. It was Balto who brought the team into Nome, their paws bloodied by ice splinters. Today the name of Balto is well known thanks to the popular cartoon movie which gives a more fanciful version of the serum run. There is a statue of Balto in Central Park, NY which bears the following inscription:

"Dedicated to the indomitable spirit of the sled dogs that relayed antitoxin six hundred miles over rough ice, across treacherous waters, through arctic blizzards from Nenana to the relief of a stricken Nome in the winter of 1925.

Endurance -- Fidelity -- Intelligence."

However, Siberian fanciers know that it was the remarkable Togo who was the real hero of the serum run. Because Seppala and Togo performed their heroic deeds in the wilderness miles from where the reporters were gathered they had no witnesses. Seppala, who did not seek glory, was nevertheless deeply stung when all the acclaim fell on Kaasen and Balto (also Seppala's dog). He was further insulted when Togo's string of racing victories were credited to Balto and the final crushing blow came when Balto, not the feisty, indomitable little Togo (he weighed only 48 pounds), was immortalized in bronze in New York's Central Park.

Today the world famous Iditarod Race to Nome is a legacy of this humanitarian feat of teamwork between men and dogs.

These days most Siberians live far from their origins. Their intelligence, affable nature and beauty find them fulfilling many roles: sled dog, racing dog, show dog, obedience, companion and therapy dog, and of course as pets. They live in the city, the suburbs, the country; in climates ranging from the arctic to the tropical. Owners of Siberians are not surprised by the attention their dogs receive when they take them out on hikes or into town -- they know very well how special this breed is.

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So Now You Think You Want a Siberian Husky: Things Every Prospective Owner Should Know!

Many people are attracted to the Siberian Husky’s remarkable appearance. Black and white Siberians with ice blue eyes are a striking sight. Siberians do come in a range of colors from the familiar black and white combination to buffs, reds, browns, grays, whites and piebalds. Some have masks, some don’t, some are colored very much like wolves hence the frequent confusion of Siberians with wolves. (Using northern husky-type dogs to play wolves in movies furthers this confusion, much to the annoyance of Siberian owners.) Some have blue eyes, some brown eyes, some amber; some have an eye that is brown and one that is blue. Sometimes two colors can be present in one eye. The color of their noses range from black to liver colored on reds and whites. This variety often leads some people to misidentify the Siberian as some other breed or a mix.

The nature of a well bred Siberian is cheerful, often mischievous, and energetic. Siberians that are properly bred and socialized love people and need human companionship to be happy. Their independent nature leads some to label them stupid but nothing could be farther from the truth! Siberians are problem solvers and accomplish amazing feats when they are determined to do something -- such as escaping their kennel or yard to do some exploring! Never, never underestimate a Siberian Husky’s intelligence and determination!

These traits have their origin in the arctic lifestyle of their ancestors. Many a musher has been saved from injury or death by the refusal of his dogs to go where they sense danger that the human does not. A less independent dog does whatever his master tells him to do but in the arctic such obedience could be fatal to master and team.

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Siberian Husky traits you should be aware of when considering adopting

© by Barbara Branham. Drawings may not be used without the artist's permission.

Siberians left too long alone can be extremely destructive. They will chew up your furniture, parts of your house, your wardrobe -- anything that is at hand.

Siberians love to dig. If you love your garden you had better provide a spacious kennel for when your Siberian is not with you.

Siberians require a great deal of exercise -- they are high energy dogs. Without adequate exercise expect destruction to be heaped on your precious possessions.

Siberians shed -- usually a major shed one or twice a year and minor shedding all of the time. You will learn to live with fur plastered to everything you own.

Siberians are superior escape artists. They can chew through almost anything, roll up chain link, leap tall fences, dig like maniacs, open latches on gates -- you name it, they’ve done it.

Siberians love to howl and some have earsplitting barks. Left to their own devices they can quickly alienate a neighborhood.

While Siberians can be obedience trained this requires a patient and creative trainer. Even obedience trained, the Siberian can make an independent decision to take off and investigate some especially intriguing phenomenon. It is highly recommended that a Siberian never be allowed off leash when outside of a securely confined area. The Siberian’s love of running with the wind make him oblivious to dangers, like that 6 lane highway ahead.

Unfortunately many people do not investigate the breed before buying and find out too late what a little terrorist they have on their hands. Sadly, many of these dogs end up in pounds or rescue or worse.

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And Even After All This You STILL Want A Siberian!

How to find your own special Siberian

First do as much research as you can on the breed. The Siberian Husky Club of America’s web site has a great deal of helpful information. Visit some Rescue web sites. If possible visit breeders in your area and your local pound if you are willing to get an older dog. Many purebreds end up in pounds, sometimes very young dogs. Adopting a rescue will save a dog’s life which will make you feel good. Most of these dogs are so grateful to have a good home that you will not encounter too many behavioral problems (if any).

If you buy a puppy or older dog through a breeder spend enough time to get to know the breeder. A good breeder will certainly want to know what kind of situation her dog is going to.  A reputable breeder should provide the following:

• The pros and cons of owning a Siberian Husky.

• Health information, including immunizations the puppy or dog has received.

• Require that pet quality dogs be neutered.

• Pedigrees and information on the health of the parents of the puppy, such as hip and eye clear certification.

Additionally a reputable breeder will take back the dog at any time in its life span if by some unforeseen circumstance you can no longer keep the dog.

RESCUE

Another source for a wonderful pet is Siberian rescue. Rescues all over the country are overflowing with wonderful dogs that for one reason or another ended up without a home. The usual reason is that someone bought a Siberian pup without knowing anything about the breed and then discarded the dog when it became too troublesome.

And now, a few words about puppy mills:

Reputable breeders never, NEVER sell puppies to pet shops.

Since no decent breeder will sell to pet shops these stores are stocked by puppy brokers who buy from  puppy mills where breeding animals are usually kept in inhumane circumstances until they are no longer useful for breeding purposes or they die from illness and neglect. Those strong enough to survive are usually shot when they are no longer useful as that is the fastest and most cost effective way to get rid of an unproductive dog. The puppies are often sick and/or have genetic defects which can cause expensive problems later. The puppies are seldom properly socialized which can create behavioral problems for new owners. Puppies do best when they go straight from their mother to their new home. Spending weeks, even months in a cage at a pet store is guaranteed to create problems. These puppies are missing a crucial period of bonding with their new family.

Help stop this inhumane treatment of animals by not buying at pet stores.

Below is a letter from the Sibernet-L email list describing one rescuer's experience with a Siberian Husky rescued from a puppy mill. This experience is by no means unusual when describing dogs who have lived out their lives in puppy mills. Many dogs are not salvageable (read A Christmas Rescue). Mieka was once a cute, fuzzy little puppy who only wanted a good home and a human to love her.  She found one at last,  at the age of  9 or maybe 10,  but only because her rescuer is willing to put in so much time, money, effort and love to salvage her.  Most puppy mill dogs are not so lucky.

Mieka's Story

"I have an almost 10 year old female here who has been here since mid Jan. She was supposed to be a foster. She's had so many litters in her life she has an incontinence problem (per vet's explanation) and she wears diapers. She came here with a belly full of worms (more than one kind). She had a staff infection over her entire body. Her skin was red, scaly in spots, seepy in others and her fur was rough and felt like a broom bristle. In spite of the fat belly (b/c of the worms), her bones stuck out all over, per vet, seriously malnourished. She's missing her ear flaps (she has knobs of cartilage) and had a raging ear infection. Her anal glands were impacted and seriously infected. She literally shook with terror for months. Many teeth broken and rotted. Prior to coming to us, she was kept on a stake-out so short she had to lie down in her own excrement. I cannot even begin to describe her emotional state.

Almost 11 months later, her coat is gorgeous, her skin is clear. She suffers from chronic ear infections, but they are never as bad as they were when she arrived. (I purchased a veterinary otoscope - over $100 - for the sole purpose of monitoring Mieka's ears). She no longer has worms. She is scheduled for more dental surgery in 3 wks, but most of the bad teeth are gone. Because she is still terrified of "almost" everything and everyone unfamiliar to her, she "sprays" (like a skunk) whenever she is afraid. She will also have her anal glands removed when the last of her dental work is done. She is finally spayed. It took months to improve her health so that the vet felt her health was good enough to undergo the surgery. She adores me, but will still cower from me if I approach too quickly. She is less sure of my husband but she is getting closer to him. If anyone else comes over, she reverts to her old behavior of cowering and shaking in fear. It took 3 months to crate train her and she is still not completely housebroken.

She was supposed to be a foster dog, but we cannot and will not subject her to anymore trauma. It has taken her months to become a somewhat happy dog, she will live the rest of her years with us. She will get the best medical service we can provide, she will always be fed a high quality, nutritious diet, she will no longer be bred at every cycle, and most importantly, she will be loved.

She is also taking up the spot of another rescue dog. We only have so much room.

Finally, to the point of what I'm saying - I try not to think about it too much b/c when I do think about it, I'm filled with a rage so furious it frightens me, but when I do think about it, I CURSE the puppymiller, I CURSE the pet stores, and yes, I CURSE the well-meaning person who bought one of her puppies from the pet store. You see, every time her pups sold, she had to produce more - her life of hell on earth continued. "

© Printed with the permission of the author.

© by Barbara Branham. Drawings may not be used without the artist's permission.

 

The following story is about a Rottweiler but could easily be about a Siberian Husky or any other breed.  There are far too many dogs like this that come out of puppy mills or from abusive owners.

A Christmas Rescue Story

by Rebekah L. James

As I drove to the clinic to pick up the latest rescue Rottie, I looked at my watch.  It was Dec. 17th, and traffic was heavy with holiday shoppers. Somehow, knowing I was getting another abandoned dog made the season seem not so bright. I pulled into the veterinary clinic where she was, and got out into the falling rain. It was a bone chilling day.

The bright lights and warmth of the office felt great. Smiling people sat inside with their  well-loved pets. I waited for them to bring her out.  Suddenly I saw a solemn-faced vet tech over the half door that led into the back. When she swung the door open, and I saw her, my eyes filled with tears involuntarily. Head and tail hung down. You could count every bone. Darting eyes were filled with fear and mistrust. I paid the bill for the spaying with a heavy heart, and lead in the pit of my stomach, as I listened to the vet tech state her history. "Approximately 18 months old, and has already delivered at least one litter. 64 pounds. Heartworm negative. Questionable temperament, tried to bite the animal control people who picked her up as a stray. Collar was not imbedded, but had to be cut off it was so tight. Fearful of loud noises and approaches from the rear." Merry Christmas to you too, I thought bitterly.

I took the harsh nylon kennel lead, and gently led her to my car. She walked gingerly through the rain with her head down, careful not to make eye contact. She allowed me to help her into the crate. I could see the fear in her eyes as I gently reached in to remove the lead. My heart sank again.

On the drive home, I wondered about her life. She had obviously been tied. Most likely abused. Where were her puppies? Dead? Sold? Doomed to a lifetime of what she had suffered herself? I comforted myself with the thought that all that was over for her now. "Her." Hmmm. I would have to think of a name......

At home, I went inside to put my own dogs away. The less stress the better for her right now, I thought. Those chores done, I went out to get her. She had to figure out how to get up the steps to my house. Clearly had never seen them before. She startled at everything in the house. Wide eyed and stiff-legged, she finally found the courage to venture into the kitchen where I was.  

I tried to comb some of the fleas off her. The clinic had not been able to bathe her before her surgery. I had never seen so many fleas, or so much flea dirt on one dog. I combed through once, twice, three times, and she enjoyed it. I turned away to rinse the comb in the bowl of warm  soapy water I had. As I turned back to comb her again, her past life exploded in her head, and she suddenly grabbed my wrist. The pressure was hard, but she did not break the skin. Our eyes met. My calm, sympathetic gaze, her wild-eyed fearful one. Gradually, she released me. I combed some more. The second time I turned back her reaction was the same. She grabbed me, but a little harder this time. The same wild fear in her eyes. And now tears in mine. I put the comb away, and settled her in a large wire crate with a soft clean bed. Most likely the first she had ever known. A nice warm dinner followed, with a sparkling clean bucket of fresh water. I lay down to a sleepless night, knowing and dreading the task that awaited me in the morning.

I dressed grimly in the grey dawn. My own precious fur-children danced and cavorted around me as they do every morning, coats glistening, eyes gleaming, and big smiling faces. Somehow it made the day even sadder to see them so happy and healthy and loved.

Morning chores done, I turned to my horrible morning duty. She was fed a nice warm breakfast, scrambled eggs with plain yoghurt and canned mackerel. She ate it all. She had not chewed up her nice, warm, soft bed. She, with no name, thousands of fleas, and bones practically breaking through her hide, walked with me to my van, and again allowed me to help her into the crate. Again, as I removed the lead, the fear and mistrust flashed from her eyes. My tears made little splashes on the rubber mat in my van.

I drove silently to my own vet clinic. Filled out the necessary paperwork. And waited with her in the exam room. My vet, so kind and gentle with all his patients, was especially gentle this morning with little no name. She lay quietly as her leg was shaved along the vein where the needle would go. She lay quietly as the needle was inserted. I stroked her head and spoke softly to her as my tears fell on her dull, dirty fur. She looked up at me one last time before the shadows closed in on her, and the light left her eyes. Two great sighs, and she was gone. My vet placed a stethoscope on her chest, and, with tears in his eyes said, yes, she is gone.

One of hundreds, thousands, millions like her that go every year. Most with no one to hold them on their journey. There was no hope for her, but for many that are destroyed there is. There is only a lack of funds and foster homes that sends them to the needle.

Please, this Holiday season, give your BREED a special gift. Donate  money to a rescue organization. All the no-names out there need you. 

©Copyright 12/97 by Rebekah L. James

 

MISPLACED LOVE

I peek from within the shadows, in a venue that time forgot,

Wishing I were someone's dog, but accepting that I'm not.

I feel so all alone and scared, no place to call my own,

I do not have a thing to eat, I miss my rawhide bone.

People come and people go, they seem to pass me by,

I wag my tail when they are near, why can't they see I try?

No one ever lets me out, nor kisses my wet nose,

Even when I stand up tall, and give my show-dog pose.

The other doggies bite my neck, and growl when I come near,

My days are filled with empty love, my nights are spent in fear.

I wonder what I must have done, to make my owners mad,

They brought me here two weeks ago, and told me I was bad.

I didn't mean to jump on them, I'm sorry that I wooed,

But puppies run and Huskies play, they rarely act subdued.

I thought the slippers were for me, the sofa was my bed,

"The house is yours, so have some fun", I swear that's what they said.

I wish that they would take me back, I hate this awful place,

I was born to share my life, to go for rides and race.

Every morning I awake, and say a silent prayer,

That I will look outside my cage, and see my master there.

I don't know what will happen, if I am not rescued soon,

It's getting harder everyday, to sing a hopeful tune.

The workers come to get my mates, the gloom is dark and black,

I'm not sure where they make them go, but they never do come back.

I heard them saying, "Time is up, you'll cross the Rainbow Bridge",

Perhaps, that's where they go to play, atop a snow-tipped ridge.

I guess that wouldn't be too bad, it's better than staying here,

I have the feeling that I am next, for I sense it drawing near.

Maybe if I close my eyes, and remember my family and team,

I'll find that I have been asleep, and this was all a dream.

But if it isn't sleep induced, I pray I can hold on,

Until, someone who offers love, can give me a new home.

 

© copyright Marisa Rabon

Comments can be sent to Marisa at: krabon@earthlink.net

 

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