FORT KENT, Maine — It’s no secret that critters here at Rusty Metal Farm have it pretty good.
In sickness or in health, their needs always come first and this past week there’s been a lot of ill-health here in the far north.
At some point last weekend, roughly at the time my beloved Seahawks threw that game-ending interception at the Super Bowl, the flu bug that’s been going around found its way to Rusty Metal Farm.
While I am sure the two events are completely unrelated, they nonetheless combined to get my week off to a somewhat bleak start.
Because, you see, when you’re under the weather and have animals, there’s no such thing as a sick day.
So, while all I want to do is sleep on the couch reprising the death scene from “Camille,” twice a day I am rallying, bundling up and trudging outside in the bitter cold to dispense food, water and attention to the furry and feathered creatures with whom I share my life.
We who are fortunate enough to have animals in our lives understand their needs often come at the expense of our own.
Not only do my dogs and chickens get breakfast before I’ve even had my morning coffee, they are far more likely to get professional medical attention long before I do.
A broken toe? Nothing a little medical tape and Tylenol can’t fix.
Separated rib thanks to a crash on the dog sled? Add some ibuprofen and maybe a day or two of bedrest to the broken toe prescription.
But when a sled dog is injured or falls ill, it’s off we go to the Fort Kent Animal Hospital, where I think our medical file is now on volume seven.
Eventually, I figure they will name a wing after my kennel there.
And even now, as I self-medicate with tea, honey and saltines, Corky, everyone’s favorite Shusky, is a guest of the animal hospital where she has been since midweek receiving intravenous fluids and antibiotics to treat a case of bronchial pneumonia.
No, the irony does not escape me, but I take solace in the fact I am hardly ever alone.
“I will take dogs to the vets at the first sign of an issue that I don’t know how to treat myself, but will procrastinate taking myself to the doctors and just suffer with pain or discomfort until it becomes a major issue or I finally get so annoyed I give in and go,” my friend and New Hampshire musher Jaye Faucher said. “Right now, I’m sitting here in a chilly house about to go put on long underwear because I’ve spent so much money on dog food this week, as well as purchasing a new dog, that I can’t swing buying wood to heat the house until my next paycheck — and the woodpile is nearly gone.”
Recently, my mushing friend Jan Woodruff, who lives literally at the end of the road in Eagle, Alaska, arranged to have a sick dog airlifted for veterinary care after her dog Sky “went from being a normal, 4-year-old to staggering and falling,” she told me.
With all roads in and out closed for the winter, no scheduled flights due to extreme cold, Jan arranged for herself and Sky to fly out on a charter with a friend.
All this while it was 45-degrees-below zero in her part of Alaska.
Sky was diagnosed with something called “ common vestibular disease,” placed on steroids and, as Jan puts it, “is now enjoying life as a house dog.”
Sometimes, we put ourselves in danger to protect our dogs, like the time my friend Lindy Howe of Augusta’s Heywood Kennels found herself in a sprint race, hanging on to her sled for dear life after getting accidentally knocked off the runners by an opponent’s dog.
Rather than run the risk of losing her team altogether, Lindy stopped the running 10-dog team the only way she knew how — by jamming her leg under the sled so it acted like a brake.
“The more the dogs pulled the more my foot dug into the trail [and] became enough resistance to get them stopped,” she said. “The problem was at this point not only was my knee completely ruined for the rest of the season, I was stuck there not being able to unjam my leg because as soon as I started to release the tension of the team to move it [the dogs] would start to pull again.”
To this day, 20 years later, Lindy’s not sure exactly how she managed to extricate herself from that predicament, get her sled upright and back in the race. All that matters, she said, “was not letting go so no dogs would be hurt.”
Nevermind she spent the remainder of that season on crutches and that to this day that knee still gives her trouble.
“It was all worth it in order to keep the team safe with me and not one dog ended up injured by having a runaway team,” she said.
In the end, no matter how sick, injured or lame we who love and live with animals become, any sacrifice to our own health we make to their benefit is more than worth it for the love and dedication they give in return.
As for conditions here on Rusty Metal Farm — at least we’re not getting the never-ending snow my friends and colleagues to the south are experiencing.
Good thing, too.
Whatever is going around is obviously very contagious. The Rusty Metal Tractor also is sick and has refused to start all week.
Julia Bayly of Fort Kent is an award winning writer and photographer, who writes part time for Bangor Daily News. Her column appears here every other Friday. She can be reached by e-mail at jbayly@bangordailynews.com.
