Silent sports are better with a canine companion
HUMAN INTEREST
BY EVE GRAVES
Originally, my search for a pooch was for protection and companionship – little did I know she would be the best silent-sports partner I’d ever explore with.
This brilliant, spunky, 45-pound furry brown Australian shepherd/border collie’s normal was laying on skis, bikes and other silent-sports equipment while riding in the car.
Early years
Laambeaux Louise, an 8-week-old rescue who looked like a fuzzy brown bear cub, turned out to be my outstanding outdoor partner, infamous at various silent-sports events and full of quirks.
She was quick to learn, taking mere minutes to learn to sit, lie down, come and stay. Teaching her necessary commands for canicross and skijoring were equally easy.
We spent our days traversing the various trails in town, running the big rocks along Lake Superior and on the ski trails at Snowflake once the snow fell.
One day, as I absent-mindedly sang our “piddle, piddle, piddle” song while in the bedroom, she walked outside the bedroom door and piddled. She was a good listener when she wanted to be.
At a young age, she started wearing a headlamp around her neck at night. While in the Porcupine Mountains, standing on the rocks of Lake Superior at dusk, we noticed the tension on the pull-out leash disappear – she chewed through the thin cord coming out of the retractable leash. Her pulling strength was so intense that buckle collars were imperative if I wanted to keep her close.
Non-racing silent sports
Laambeaux was constantly attached to my waist for hiking, skiing and running. She endured two years of formal training and then two more of agility, in addition to her natural outdoor experiences.
While hiking on the shores of Brighton Beach, we encountered a boy with Down syndrome throwing rocks against a bigger rock. Laambeaux became enthralled with the action. It was after I discovered her obsession with rocks being thrown into the water.
She began doing backflips for the rocks as I threw them in the water, and the “Laambeaux Leap” was born – she could jump quite high.
While in the Boundary Waters Canoe Area, she would stand in the water (she only swam two times during her life) and wait for rocks the entire day. I could lay down on a rock and read an entire novel while she sat staring and waiting.
She also developed an obsession with soccer balls at an early age. We lived across the street from a soccer field, and she interrupted quite a few practices and games, which amused those playing.
Snowflake allows off-leash dogs on the ski trails, and she grew up there. She would stick with me most of the time or go ahead and run alongside whoever was in front of me, keeping the right amount of distance between her and the poles.
When skijoring, she picked up sounds right away and knew when it was time to run faster down the hill or slow down on the uphill – making me do all the work.
Tennis was also one of my passions in life. While coaching for one of the local teams, she became our full-time mascot tied to the fence, herding tennis balls.
Training her to drink from a water bottle had its advantages and disadvantages. Drinking was possible for both of us any time because my bottle is always with me, but on the other hand, she learned if she chewed the top off, she had water.
Quirks
As she aged, she developed some interesting quirks. She had a severe fear of flies. If one got into the car, she would climb onto my lap and shake violently. Should one get into the house, she would go outside and refuse to come back in.
She also had an interesting reaction to my coughing or my husband’s laughing. If I coughed while we were outside moving on leash, she would turn around and face me, refusing to go forward. If my husband laughed anywhere in the house, she would come into the room and stare at him.
She had an incredible memory, too. Anywhere a smoke detector had gone off, she refused to go inside again. In our house, she associated turning on the oven with the smoke detector going off, so she would stick to me like glue, sometimes shaking every time the oven was on.
She also became very attached to me, refusing to go anywhere away from me if she knew I was in close proximity.
Once my friend Gini had her on leash and was going to run a race with her, and she pulled back toward me.
However, this quirk worked well with the naughty kids in school. One year on the last day of school, I was in charge of the kids who proved more challenging than others. We went to a park to have a picnic, and I tied her to the waist of the one I thought would wander – each time he did, she would bring him back.
She also aided those third-graders who thought they were incapable of running the mile in school. Again, tying her to their waist, she would get them through the task.
Completing two laps of anything was boring to my canine friend, forcing many creative changes in my racing style. Skijoring races were limited to the one-loop race. If I was doing a running event, I had to have someone there to pass her off to before starting the second loop.
For whatever reason, she had a few trails she didn’t like. Often times, she would refuse to do the Bear Paw loop while we skijored at Boulder Lake. She also avoided “Special K” at Snowflake. With all her might, she would pull in the other direction when faced with either of these trails.
Famous
Laambeaux was famous – she was on television numerous times in her lifetime. Her trick of getting me a Kleenex when I sneezed once earned her the title of “Duluth’s Top Dog.” She was also the demo doggy when we took canine first aid.
One of the local news stations was looking for a dog to use to prove how robbers could easily lead the dog into a bedroom with a treat. Of course, being the food-motivated pooch she was, she fell for it.
Our local weatherman, originally from the south, did a three-part segment with me so he could learn to ski. We did dryland, classic, skate and skijoring with Laambeaux.
Dressing in costume was something she also enjoyed. At the Christmas City of the North Parade, she again made the screen while wearing a full Santa suit.
Infamous
Laambeaux was with me at almost every silent sports event I did, and she (mostly) behaved.
Midnight Sun Adventure events were the recipient of a few of her shenanigans.
While participating in the 10-mile, non-timed tour of the Superior Hiking Trail called the Grand Traverse, I let her off-leash so I could safely maneuver down a short, steep and technical hill, and she vanished. The next two hours were spent calling friends who were ahead or behind me on the course, the race directors and others who were not at the event. Eventually, she backtracked and waited at the car, which was also an aid station. The organizers tied her up.
The following year at the same event, I was chatting with the race director afterward, and she snuck under the table and ate her lunch.
During the Midnight Sun Run, I was volunteering and had her tied to something for a few hours within my sight.
She was staring at a bunny across the way for the entire time – or so I thought. After a couple of hours, someone came up to me and said, “I think your dog is jumping up when no one is looking and taking one cookie at a time.”
The cookie dough for the solar ovens at the Two Harbor’s Kayak festival was hidden pretty well … they thought – but she found it.
On the way to the Birkie one year, I had all my food buried under things. I stopped for something, and when I came back out, she had eaten a whole box of dounut holes. Burying the rest of the food even better, I stopped again at the Birkie office, only to return to the car and see her orange, cheesy mouth finishing off my cheddar cheese rice cakes.
Our races
Laambeaux earned how to quickly drink water from a cup as we passed by the aide stations. During skijoring races, she would get a “snow drink” as we were in motion by skimming the top of the snow on the edge of the trail, avoiding slowing down.
She enjoyed moving more swiftly than I most of the time. At a trail race at Chester Bowl, I let her off leash so I wouldn’t get hurt. She was really fast and made it all the way to the elite runners in the front, crossing the finish line with them.
Our first skijoring competition was a learning experience, but we did really well. Having no clue, it did not dawn on me we would be as fast as we were. Having her go to the bathroom prior to the competition is something that should have been common sense, but that cost us at least a minute during the race.
As our skijor racing career was nearing its end, I had a chat with Laambeaux prior to the event letting her know I wanted her to go as fast as she could and I would bring her back to the car afterwards. This event was on a lake due to lack of snow, and we were doing a kilometer every 2 minutes. When we finished, I wanted to cool down, and she pulled me towards the car – remembering what my promise was.
Dryland fun
Two separate dryland incidents are clearly marked in my mind. One in Superior the other in Duluth, both while coaching.
I had my group out for dryland training at the Superior Municipal Forest Trail and Laambeaux chose her own route. When we finished our workout, she had it timed well and came out of the woods with blood dripping down with two small quills in her chin.
Once the source was discovered to be her tongue – which ended up forked the rest of her life – my vet confirmed she would be fine.
Dryland in the dark required multiple blinking lights on my canine friend. We were at Chester Bowl doing a dryland workout on the ski hill, and she went up and down with ease. When we finished, she took off and went deep into the creek. It was dark once I turned the ski hill lights off. All I could see was the blinking lights beyond the weeds and a quirky brown dog ignoring me for at least 30 minutes despite standing in one place. I waited and finally she emerged.
Losing her
We lost Laambeaux to nose cancer at the end of July – it was a hard few months. After 13 years of constant companionship at all of my silent-sports activities, her death left a gaping hole in my existence.
When she stopped eating steak and mushy cat food, I called a vet to come to our house.
Including your canine in silent-sports activitites such as running, paddling, biking and skiing gives them an amazing journey. Sometimes it will lead to a better workout, other times you may have to sacrifice for your furry friend.
New puppy
Gigantic holes left us feeling empty, so we chose to get a new puppy soon after Laambeaux’s passing. We welcomed 7-week-old Lupine to the family.
Lupine has already joined me on many challenging 3-mile hikes on the Superior Hiking Trail. A squeaker toy and treats, along with pepper spray for any chance encounters with animals and we are set.