KAREN LAND

Last week when I found out that Goat, one of my retired sled dogs, was in the Portland, Oregon pound, many emotions flooded my mind. I was stunned and thankful that Vanessa, a friend, had stumbled across Goat’s photograph (with a different name) on an adoption website and actually recognized his goofy headshot.

I was heartbroken thinking of my boy in a big city kennel scared and all alone. I was terrified hoping the pound didn’t euthanize him before I could reach them on the phone. And, to put it bluntly, I was also fuming mad - this didn’t have to happen.I became a musher because I love dogs.

And, ironically, I got out of mushing because I love dogs.One of the most difficult and stressful parts of owning a kennel was facing the fact that not every dog makes the team. And then what do you do?

When the time came, I preferred to find good pet homes for all of my huskies - even some of the better athletes. I wanted to know my dogs were safe and happy for the rest of their lives.With each one I placed, I told the new owners, “If this doesn’t work for you and the dog, I want the dog back.”My request was direct and sincere.

The majority of my dogs scored the perfect setup; I receive fun, reassuring e-mails and photos from their owners often. Over the years, I have taken back a handful of dogs who needed different situations; I was thankful the owners were honest about their difficult life changes and called me. Goat’s story is one of happenstance.

(EDITOR’S NOTE: This column was written by Karen Land for the Great Falls Tribune, August 2004.)

This summer Goat has been lifting weights every day. With his teeth.

Goat is actually a sled dog, one of my Alaskan Husky yearlings. Goat came from a litter I named after different varieties of cheese, but his title is extra fitting because he looks like a mountain goat. His short back, long arched neck, and muscled shoulders give him his Billy-like posture, as if he’s always perched on a rock looking down on the world. And his thick white wooly coat helps him play the part too.

Goat didn’t start working out until after his injury. One morning last April when I went to feed the dogs, I found Goat stumbling around his area like a drunk. I called his name and when his brown eyes met mine, I saw a worried dog. He knew something was wrong.

Goat still wagged his tail but the rest of his behavior was odd. Every time he tried to come to me he would tumble over, unable to walk in a straight line. His entire body seemed to be drawn into a tight knot with his head and neck cocked sideways.