Sashi of Stargazer Champion of the Heart 2024

 Sashi is one of my special needs Stargazers. Due to the appearance and growth of a soft tissue sarcoma on her left wrist, she had her left leg amputated in February of this year.  The mass  first appeared three years ago at a time when Sashi was still running in harness at the age of 9 years. Her doctor debrided the mass twice and this year it became time for Sashi to become a tripawed.  Post surgery, her athleticism paid off, as she slowly healed and developed a new hop to her step. Quite amazing really, how she adapted almost immediately, hopping into the car and up  five steps upon her arrival home after the surgery.  Sashi has always been a firecracker, born close to the 4th of July.  Her debut at Stargazer came following an illicit feast on a couple dozen chickens, a trip to the county shelter, and a short visit at another foster home where she terrorized the owner's dogs. She was an escape artist, and had to be tethered while acclimatizing at Stargazer. That and the fact that I had about a dozen hens myself.  In her running years, Sashi was not a lead dog, as her downfall was the sniff and pee syndrome. She was a great team dog, running with many partners over the years. Full of personality and playfulness, losing a leg has not diminished her spirit. She is one of the last of what I call the originals and along with Bella she goes back to the early days of my Siberian Husky joy. Siberians are not generally snugglers, and Sash is no different in that way. Earlier days, she would holler at me if I inadvertently touched her or loved on her. These days, she follows me around and lays near me. She still roughhouses with the boys and lets them know who is boss. Sashi is a true Siberian and is always a Champion of My Heart.

Foxfire Bellatrix of Stargazer Bella Champion of the Heart 2024

 Foxfire Bellatrix of Stargazer, Bella, Belle, or Belle Belle as she is known by her friends, which are many. Bella is one of the "Sweeties." the group of  dogs that came out of a terrible puppy mill situation 17 years ago outside of Leavenworth, WA. There were fifty plus puppies that were saved, some were not.   There have been a couple reunions over the years, and this will be the last. Bittersweet for the Sweeties.  Best dogs ever. I first saw Bella at my friend Gail Robert's home in early January of 2008. Winter in Plain meant several feet of snow on the ground and buildings.  Gail has been a rescue angel for decades and there were a couple dozen of these puppy mill pups racing around in her yard in early dark.   A carousel of movement and play. Whizzing by, every so often was this bundle of red wooly energy.  I fell in love immediately and said that is the one for me.  Gail had named her Dora after Dora the Explorer, as one time she had spotted Belle up on her garage roof , accessed by all the snow on the ground. When Dora came home, I changed her name to Bella  as in Adorabella and then her fancy name became Foxfire Bellatrix of Stargazer.  I had rescued another pup just a couple weeks before and thought the two girls might be friends.  LOL  The first thing this spicy redhead did upon meeting sweet little Aurora, was sneer at her and growl.They did become friends over a lifetime.  Belle had a bad underbite and when she first visited my vet, many teeth had to be pulled and I have always teased my vet about pulling all of Belle's teeth.  Bella was never a sled dog.  She would get excited when seeing the harness and had about a half mile of full out running, but then would slow to a trot and then a walk. Just not physically put together right for running.  She did love to carry a pack and was my hiking pal for years, always out in front of any other dogs, straight on down the trails. Bella has always kept her independence and adventurous personality, generally preferring to be outside. She has always enjoyed  vitality and is still a good eater, an indicator of her health.  At almost 17 years, she sleeps most of the day, but is interested in what is going on around her, gets up at the sound of the microwave as it heats up a pill pocket, checks out things in the house and wanders about the yard, when I carry her outside.  Normally, she would be sporting her wooly coat, now bleached out from years of laying in the direct sunlight, but we shaved her in April, after a scary event, in which she became overheated and stressed.  As you can see, these pups had good genetics despite their awful beginning which has helped them be resilient and live long lives.  Bella is one of the most special dogs I have ever called mine and I love that at 17 years she is finally receiving her Champion of the Heart Rosette.

Daisy

Daisy of Stargazer

It was always Daisy and Dancer, and now there is just The Dancer. Although, I do have their three half brothers here at Stargazer.  Daisy was the second of this family that I lost without warning.  Their sister, Cloudee, died suddenly of Immune Mediated Hemolytic Anemia in 2014. All of these dogs are immune compromised in some manner, which makes them super Seppala Siberian  Stargazers, some of my special needs dogs.  Daisy and Dancer arrived in a blizzard, a white snowstorm of Seppala Siberians half seen in the headlights of my Suburban, parked in the darkening night.   With a failing alternator, the headlights were shining on the unfinished kennels, containing what seemed like a dozen or more white pups, whirling, dancing, leaping in the darkness and falling snow. I saw white; white pups, white snow, white shavings littering the ground.  The only one I could identify with certainty, was Daisy, who had gone through the debarking surgery, earlier that week, and had a distinctive soft and raspy bark. I chose her, as I knew she would need extra care, and picked another, the breeder called Dancer.  The"D" Litter.  I like having siblings, so I chose two.  These were Seppala Siberians, sure to be excellent race dogs.  Well, that story had to be modified.

The Next Chapter

http://www.rumblstrips.com/the-next-chapter-unfolds/

The Next Chapter Unfolds

By Susan Scofield

“We are all stories in the end.”
~Doctor Who

This is the story of the Blue Kong, and how it changed my life.

Half a dozen years ago, I was found by an American Pit Bull Terrier. As I arrived back at my truck after walking one of my Siberian Huskies along a local rail trail, I found what appeared to be an old, ravaged and wounded, pit bull, laying up against my wheel. The invisible sign was on, “Come here, and you will be helped.”

This dog, who came to be known as Gar, took close to a year to fix through the dedicated and combined efforts of my veterinarian and myself. He was only a year old but had the worst mange she had ever seen, was covered with scabs and scars and had multiple infections. Although subjected to constant foot soaks, injections, pills, Gar never resisted, never growled, and remained gentle, loving and kind.

Initially, we gave him a rubber toy shaped like a bowling pin, which he carried non-stop in his massive jaws for close to a year. The second pin never left his mouth and only lasted a few weeks due to the constant chewing.

Then came the “black kong number one” and “number two.” Gar would not move off his couch go outside or go anywhere without that black kong. Always in his mouth, or beside him as he slept.

Gar lives with my son, Will. One day while at the vet, we noticed they had a Blue Kong for sale! We had never seen those before, and I have been told, they are only sold through a vet. Seems, the blue shows up on radiographs. The Blue Kong looked tough enough, so I bought Gar a present.

Here is the crux of the story. That dog had never let his black kong out of his mouth, let alone out of his sight. But, when Will and Gar arrived home that day, Will took the black kong out of Gar’s mouth, and set it on the counter. Then he set the Blue Kong on the floor.

Gar hesitated, took one long look at the black kong, then picked the Blue Kong up, and never looked back.

Such a whomping metaphor for our lives!

Each new chapter is a Blue Kong. Yes, we have enjoyed, savored and loved, never wanting to leave the place where we are so happy.

Life moves on though, and we are presented with the Blue Kong.

Pick it up and enjoy the new flavor. Those memories, loved ones, places, stories that have happened, will never leave us.

But we must move on, and Living means Loss at some point.

If we are willing, the Universe offers us The Blue Kong and a new adventure awaits, where love, joy, inspiration, fun, and friendship will find us in a new way.

We need to be like Gar, put things away on the shelf, when it is time, and pick up the new 

http://www.rumblstrips.com/running-with-our-own-kind/

Running With Our Own Kind

By Susan Scofield

“Home is Where Your Rescue Dogs Are.”

Twenty four Siberian Huskies reside at the Stargazer Siberian Husky Sanctuary. This journey began over fifteen years ago, when my son picked out a Siberian Husky puppy, who came to be called Sparky. What happened next, is the stuff of legend.

My life revolved on that hinge that shifts us into a brand new world. That little blue eyed puppy turned my life toward a horizon I never imagined. In so doing, eventually he saved the lives of many Siberian Huskies that came to live with me, temporarily as a foster or permanently as a Stargazer.

I discovered dog mushing via bike, scooter, cart, sled, or ski. An extreme sport, is dog mushing, but the joy of running dogs is not to be equaled by any other activity. Most of all, I discovered the Siberian Husky. I was the ignorant beginner, knowing nothing of the breed.

Siberians are a special type of dog, with special needs. They need the Ft. Knox of security as they are the escape artists of the canine world. Up, over, under or through, they will try to get out and run, run, run. While running, if they encounter a cat, chicken, or any animal considered prey, the hunt is on. This being one of the main reasons they end up in trouble.

The love of the hunt, the joy of the run; they are incredibly smart, curious, watchful, mischievous, opportunistic, independent, aloof and social. In addition to this, they are strikingly beautiful.

I have learned so much from them.  First of all, like people, Siberian Huskies come in all different colors, with a smorgasbord of eye color. Yet, they are all purebred, and all lovely. All have four legs, two eyes, and a big smiling face. Loyalty, beauty in motion, they find joy in work, how to dig holes, deeper and deeper, persistence, living in the moment, live until you die, wariness, silence, watchfulness, work is fun, joy, playing with friends, roughhousing is fun, movement is good, naughtiness is fun, chewing is fun, athleticism.

Siberian Huskies enjoy being around their kind. Many people call this a pack. I don’t. I call it a group of individuals, whose dynamics are ever changing, ebbing and flowing on a daily basis. There is no alpha; there is this group, and that group. We play, we fight, we play again. We love to run. We love the snow. We love mud. We live in the moment, and that moment is forever.

This is what my Siberian Huskies have taught me. They are my friends, and my responsibility. I tend to the ones that are cast out, that have been damaged, that are ill or old. We run together, we live together, we love together. This is what I do, this is what I love. This is my light that shines out and welcomes them home.

I lost my Sparky at 15 1/2 years in September of 2015. Over the course of his lifetime, we ran hundreds of miles together, alone on the trails. We were a team, and both of us found it hard to say goodbye. The time came, and that moment came for both of us. He left me with the greatest gift of my lifetime. His legacy is the Stargazer Siberian Sanctuary.

We all have a need to run with our own kind, to know joy, to recognize ourselves in each other. We all need a place to call home that is safe, where we are fed, where we play, fight, work, and know joy. A place where we are loved and not alone.

For more information contact Susan at stargazersiberiansanctuary@gmail.com

http://stargazersiberians.blogspot.com/

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The Empty Bowl

Twenty nine 2 quart stainless steel bowls lined up on the sunset  tiled kitchen island, awaiting their twice daily ration of kibble and water.

 Lined up in military perfection, aligned in order with how they will be stacked and delivered to the hungry occupant of crate or kennel.  Seventeen of those bowls will be delivered to the house dogs in their crates, twelve will go to the yard dogs in their kennels.  Prior to the laying out of bowls, preparations began with the kenneling and crating of the dogs.  This activity is accompanied by a great cacophony of howling, wooing, whining, barking, and anxious hunger sounds.  Often, the dogs are given a cookie to crate or kennel up, so most of them eagerly move to their appointed places.  Stargazers are not required to be silent at feeding time, so guests who happen to be present at this ritual, are warned, "that it will get noisy."  Prior to the kibble hitting the bowl, pills must be doled out.  Some time ago, I dispensed with the idea of wrapping the pills in some tasty treat, as the ever so smart Siberian soon figures out how to unwrap the pill and eat the tasty. Throw the pills in the bowl for some, and hand give the others.  Daisy, my IBD dog, takes 5 potassium, 1/2 magnesium, 1 Pepcid twice a day plus prednisone every 48 hours. She springs off the couch, on to the crate top, where I stuff the pills in one by one, followed by a cookie.  Daisy and I know the routine. Sparky, my 14 year old patriarch, fondly known as Snarly Growl Face, receives one half of a Carprofen, for his old joints. My favorite is never  friendly about taking his pills, but does like the after treat.  Throughout we are being serenaded by the sounds of the Siberian choir at full decibel.  Especially, once they hear me open the pill jars.  Very fine tuned ears, these Siberians. Next, the door opens to the dog food room, and the pitch jumps dramatically. Several types of food, filling the needs of all the special needs dogs.  As the food clatters into the metal bowls, anticipation grows. I turn on the kitchen faucet, fill up the pitcher with hot water and add to the bowls of food. Adding fluids is good for the dog, and slows down the inhaling of the chow.  At least I like to think it does. Who knows what the dogs think? Probably, more food, less water, Sue.

This is a routine practiced religiously, day after day, month after month, year following year.  I like doing this, feeding my friends, placing their bowls down for them, filling their needs.  I love their individual voices, and I especially love the dead quiet that follows meal time.  At least for an instant, until some anxious soul starts to sing the "dinner's over, I want out," song.

I have a pattern in my head and on the ground of how those bowls are laid out, and on it continues, until the awful day, when one of the dogs, in the case of this story, my girl Cloudee, has suddenly and violently left this Earth.  What happens at feeding time? The pattern is wrong, the names in my head no longer match the battered silver bowls.  What has happened to regular?  Everything is wrong, out of place, the pattern has broken.  Where is Cloudee's bowl? It is now the Empty Bowl in the dish drainer, never to be filled again as Cloudee barks in her double beat sing song bark, waiting to eat in the front of her kennel she has shared with her brother Wyatt, since they came to Stargazer in 2008. Cloudee died suddenly, or rather I had to have her put down, a very profound phrase, which means being the instrument of your friend's death.  Most likely Cloudee had Immune Mediated Hemolytic Anemia and Immune Mediated Thrombo Cytopenia. Her gums became pale, she was bleeding somewhere, she became paryalyzed, was rushed to the vet, and then she was gone, in a matter of a few hours. My dear friend, whom I had spent weeks  in settling and earning her trust when she first arrived at Stargazer with Wyatt. Cloudee was a lead dog, loved to run in harness, and with time and love, had become comfortable and trusting, no longer running and hiding when approached by a human.

That night of Cloudee's death, my heart broke, as I saw the Empty Bowl  waiting to be filled. Never again. The pattern had shifted, my friend was gone, and now there were only twenty eight bowls on the sunset tiled kitchen island.

Flowing, like water.

Siberian Huskies, running together in a group. Picture them flowing like water, as they spin, surge, stall, cut in and out, always moving together.  Dog dynamics are fluid, like water.  They ebb and flow on a daily basis, as bonds are formed and dissolved and reformed once again . The lead is taken, shifted, dropped, and picked up again.  The hierarchy of alpha-omega is a story of wolf packs,  not of dogs.  That story is of family bonding and established roles.  Dogs form community relationships and complex networks of interaction and mutual understanding.  Dogs want to get along with each other, which is why their vocabulary of gestures, movements and sounds is so complex. One speaks of a dog as well socialized, when, as an adult, it is able to recognize and participate in that multi leveled communication of eyes, lips, ears, tail, and body stance.  The dogs that I see at Stargazer which have come to me via the shelter, the street, abandonment by an owner, often do not know their own dog language, or have forgotten it, or pushed it away, due to their own extreme need to survive when safety and security have been non existent or have been taken away. They arrive distrusting, fearful, anxiety ridden, with their own internal compass disabled. My secret to helping these dogs heal, is to use the other dogs, who model the behavior, that I cannot. They teach these lost souls, the language of dog. The language that says this is a safe place, we get food, we hang out together, we are friends, Sue is good. The secret of a dog learning to be a dog again. This is the flowing, the organic movement towards health, towards trust, towards balance.

Brigit is my model for today. Already, she is beginning to flow in a new direction, as routine, food, kindness become part of her new paradigm.  This is not the world of clicker, or command, or authority. This is the world of flow, and of zen, and of dog.  The dog world, of taking the moment, and being in it 100 per cent.