A Horrible Oversight

I have recently been reminded that I omitted a small portion of the dogsled ride tale.

After the ride, they unleashed the dogs and let us meet them and pet them and say, "You're a good doggie" and all that other stuff.

Mom was going down the line and thanking each dog by name for the nice ride.  While she was petting one of the dogs, one of the other dogs -- who had already been thanked but clearly felt slighted that mom had moved on to someone else -- walked right over to her, lifted his leg, and let go.  All over her rain pants.

That's right, kids, my mom has been peed on by a real live actual sled dog.

My mom has also had real live actual glacial snow rubbed on her pant leg by a real live actual sled dog guide, who was trying to remove the pee while simultaneously keeping a tight leash on the naughty dog and trying not to laugh (or was that just me?).

She, of course, wiped the pants down with whatever antibacterial hand gel or wipes or whatever that she could get her hands on after we returned to the Juneau hotel between adventures.

Then, at the salmon bake, my mom's pant leg was an item of attraction for the two labradors they keep on site.  No, they didn't rewet the site, but they were sniffing all over it.

Clearly, when you've been marked by a sled dog, you stay good and marked.