Suburban Iditarod: Team of One

When I was 14 (in 1985) I thought it would be a great idea to buy a harness, hook it up to my family’s Akita, “Monk,” and have him pull me around the neighborhood on my skateboard.

My parents thought this was a great idea. Monk The Dog thought this was a GREAT idea. He would get so jumping-around-excited if I even touched the harness. I’d put it on him, point up the hill, kick off, and he would tear ass up the hill, pulling with all of his might.

On the flats, here’s what I learned: Dogs can run fast.

I also learned to watch out for two things: big cracks in the sidewalk and cats.

Those who skate know you have to lean back over uneven cracks. Otherwise the front wheel hits the uneven pavement, and the board stops, but you don’t. This is even more important when a big dog is pulling you, because the dog doesn’t stop, either.

AND, if the dog sees a cat… Well, you’d better see it first. If you do, you can lean against the crazy dog-lunge, and pull him along. If you don’t he’ll pull you right off the board.

The first time this happened to me, I had my hand all the way through the loop on the leash, my grip on the line. Dog handlers teach this, as the dog can’t rip the leash out of your fingers.

Well, my dog saw a cat across the street before I did, and he took off. He pulled me off the board. True to technique, I couldn’t let go of the line, and was subsequently dragged halfway across the street on my back. Keep in mind, this wasn’t in the snow.

My back did not look great. But, I took it as a battle scar. I was just a little disappointed when I didn’t have actual scars, as my Dad previously told me “chicks dig scars”.

After that, I learned to hold the leash in my hand. If I didn’t see the cat first, I just let go of the leash. There weren’t many times I needed to abandon ship leash. Because I super-close paid attention and had a higher vantage point that gives advantages if you’re being aware.

The dog hardly ever surprised me again. There was one time, though. We were approaching the corner where I turned onto my street. The dog, being dog, wanted to run full speed around the corner. I found that if I aimed at the apex of the corner, leaned in and carved, I could just make it at full dog speed. So, I was wiggling down and mentally preparing for the turn. Two houses away, Monk shot off on an angle up the driveway. I learned my lesson from the Dragging Across The Street Incident, so I let go of the leash right away. He was tearing ass toward a cat that was standing against the garage door. He made it about half-way up the driveway and the cat still hadn’t moved. “Oh shit!” I thought, “It doesn’t see him!” Weirdly enough, I could see that Monk the Dog had the same revelation. He filled with energy and actually sped up, if that was possible. He ran right up to it, put his whole mouth over its back and CHOMPED. The look of TRIUMPH was palpable, and something I never saw in a dog before. I saw the whole body contort and crush around my dog’s teeth.

And then nothing happened.

I stood there. Monk stood there. We both realized at the same time that it… was a teddy bear.

Dogs are emotional creatures, but I never saw a dog look disappointed and embarrassed at the same time.

Good times.