Meet Liz (and coming soon, the rest of the human team)
Liz Parrish, Musher-in-Training and Chief Pooper Scooper, has had a life-long love affair with dogs and the marvelous things they do. Seeing a dog do what it was bred to do – whether pulling, hunting, herding or making us laugh and be a lap warmer – has always been immensely fulfilling to me.
I grew up in a small Midwestern family, and still remember the rainy evening when I was 6 and our first dog appeared – a tiny miniature dachshund puppy emerged from underneath this raincoat into our living room and our lives. We named her Kristi and she was “for” my sister and I – but she was my Mom’s dog through and through, and the rest of the family knew it. Once Kristi was gone there was a big hole in the family, but then I went off to college and on to a career in Silicon Valley and apartment life in California was not conducive to having a dog.
Some friends and I made the move of renting a house – on the proviso that the landlord would let us have a dog. Yes! I had decided I wanted a Cocker Spaniel – a buff female to be exact. Well, he turned out to be a black male and we named him Curly, because that’s what his coat was. We tried to do things with Curly, hiking and such, only to quickly discover the insidious nature of foxtails and fine coats – I once spent 3 hours getting burrs and foxtails out of his coat from a little half hour trail hike near our home. Cockers are known to have eye, ear and skin problems – this poor guy had all 3. PRA left him blind by 3 years old, he went deaf after repeated ear surgeries to try to correct massive infections, and he developed “cocker bumps” on his skin at an early age. His body finally wore out at 9, a relief to all of us. He still seemed to enjoy his dark and quiet world and our company, but I’m glad he wasn’t in pain anymore.
Shortly after that I started looking for my next dog, determined this time to get one that was “wash & wear”, and that I could truly go do things with. Someone suggested an Australian Shepherd, so I started looking for Aussies. Merles commanded a premium, but black tris were everywhere, so I finally decided to go see a little guy in Fairfield, the remaining pup out of a show dog litter. This pup was nearly 4 months old by now, his brother and sister gone to show homes, but he was a throwback to the original old-style stock dog Aussies – shorter coat, shorter legs, lots of eye and (although we didn’t know it at the time) herding was in his blood. This dog needed a job! He rode home on my lap, staring out the window in what would be a classic pose for many years, watching for … cows. His puppy name was Lucky, but he immediately became Jake. Jake was a terrific introduction to being owned by a working dog – he was game to try anything, just explain the job to him and it was his passion. Tennis balls, Frisbees, Kongs – anything that moved was to be herded.
When my partner Peggy first came into my life, she brought with her an aloof cat named Amelia and I had Jake, and was keen to get another dog to keep him company and burn off some of that boundless energy. Peggy wasn’t sure she was ready for 2 dogs, 1 took some adjustment, especially one so intense and that demanded so much interaction. And Amelia suddenly had a new purpose in life – she dedicated herself to hating Jake, stalking him and making him miserable at every opportunity. She had him (and eventually the other dogs) all kowtowed.
A couple of years later we got the only dog Peggy would consider, a Norwegian Elkhound (I’m convinced Peggy was a Viking in a former life, as she has a love affair with all things Norwegian). So Elske (Norwegian for love) came into our lives. With Elske (and every other pup he ever met) Jake was very tolerant…the pup would run up and try to steal Jake’s toy and Jake would simply stand there and hold it while Elske tugged and shook with all his little might, trying to wrench the toy from Jake’s mouth. When the pup was finally tired and gave up, Jake would give a little toss of his head, send the pup tumbling head over heels, and walk away – with his toy still securely in his mouth. Marta, the mystery beagle mix came into our lives a year later, a rescue we were to foster from a shelter where Peggy was volunteering. We had already discovered agility and were busy training the boys, so Marta just joined right in with that, and about the same time we discovered skijoring, and thus we started on the path toward mushing sports and the Motley Crew was born. We did everything with these guys…agility, skijoring, lure coursing, a cross country trip to Camp Gone to the Dogs…so neither of us gave it a second thought when the opportunity came to try and turn them into sled dogs.
Briar's Patch Sled Dogs LLC — Based at Crystalwood Lodge
38625 Westside Road/ P.O. Box 498, Ft. Klamath, OR 97626
Ph: 541-892-3639 Fax: 541-381-2328
Email: Contact Briar's Patch Sled Dogs
