Mischa and the Inversion of the Social Order
When she helped us choose Mischa, Frauke warned us of something about malamutes. They're so different from normal dogs, she said, that it sometimes actually helps if you haven't owned a dog before. It means you're less surprised when the natural order of things is reversed.
Mischa has the most beautiful gait. He runs like a wolf: sleekly, smoothly and seemingly effortlessly. His back barely moves at all; if you were to picture only the motion of his spine, it would lance forward through the air like an arrow. Meanwhile his legs move beneath him in a long, reaching lope that eats up the miles without apparent exertion.
Long and graceful though his legs may be, they're not as long as mine. And the fact is that while Mischa's gait is breathtakingly efficient, it's not actually all that fast. Unlike those prima-donna high-octane Siberians, Mischa is a freight dog, designed to haul heavy sleds over rough terrain for long days on short rations, and all without complaining very much about it. Which explains a lot about his personality.
Anyway, the fact is that I run faster than he does.
In recent days I've sometimes been letting Mischa run off the leash. It takes extreme caution, and a sharp lookout for risks or any diversions that might lead him astray-including, but not limited to: rabbits, chickens, horses, trains, nearby roads, houses, farmyards, dense woodlands, edible livestock, small dogs, big dogs, other humans, and large expanses of mud. So there aren't all that many places I can do it, but there are some.
So Mischa trots along at his sedate travelling pace, occasionally pausing to sniff one of the ubiquitous dog forums and maybe post a liquid comment of his own. Meanwhile his human runs ahead at my own less-sedate travelling pace, continually keeping an eye on him and periodically trotting back to stay in touch. Frauke was right: the natural order of things has been reversed.
Mischa has the most beautiful gait. He runs like a wolf: sleekly, smoothly and seemingly effortlessly. His back barely moves at all; if you were to picture only the motion of his spine, it would lance forward through the air like an arrow. Meanwhile his legs move beneath him in a long, reaching lope that eats up the miles without apparent exertion.
Long and graceful though his legs may be, they're not as long as mine. And the fact is that while Mischa's gait is breathtakingly efficient, it's not actually all that fast. Unlike those prima-donna high-octane Siberians, Mischa is a freight dog, designed to haul heavy sleds over rough terrain for long days on short rations, and all without complaining very much about it. Which explains a lot about his personality.
Anyway, the fact is that I run faster than he does.
In recent days I've sometimes been letting Mischa run off the leash. It takes extreme caution, and a sharp lookout for risks or any diversions that might lead him astray-including, but not limited to: rabbits, chickens, horses, trains, nearby roads, houses, farmyards, dense woodlands, edible livestock, small dogs, big dogs, other humans, and large expanses of mud. So there aren't all that many places I can do it, but there are some.
So Mischa trots along at his sedate travelling pace, occasionally pausing to sniff one of the ubiquitous dog forums and maybe post a liquid comment of his own. Meanwhile his human runs ahead at my own less-sedate travelling pace, continually keeping an eye on him and periodically trotting back to stay in touch. Frauke was right: the natural order of things has been reversed.