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It's not a goth topic, but with Eight Below coming out soon, it's been much on my mind.
In a strange way, the Siberian Husky is a monument to Soviet censorship. Perhaps no other dog breed has ever become so politically symbolic.
The husky was created by the Chukchi people of northern Siberia, who measured wealth in terms of the number and quality of their dogs. The animals were valued for being clever and independent, sometimes even disobeying their owners to save them from foolish acts like sledding onto thin ice. Dogs were left to fend for themselves in summer, since they were wolfish in their habits and very good at finding food and making cozy dens. Dogs were traded, welcomed into the family, and held in high esteem.
When the Russians took over, they wanted to subdue the Chukchi. This was hard, since these nomadic people were very mobile and could avoid the troops for years, with the dogs helping them to escape. The Russians decided to dilute the breed bloodlines by mixing them with larger, plodding draft dogs. Once the huskies were eliminated from Siberia, the Chukchi were finally defeated. The very backbone of their culture was lost.
As often happened, Russia rewrote its history books. Officially, the husky had never existed.
Perhaps we can credit one man, and a single historical event, with the survival of the breed. The man was Leonhard Seppala, a Scandinavian who admired huskies for their talents and their speed. He moved to Alaska and took his dogs with him. And the event was the Nome Serum Run, to save the small town from an outbreak of Diptheria. This was the race that inspired the Iditarod, and the huskies played a pivotal role.
Soon the mushing community was fascinated with the breed. They began to buy the dogs, and many huskies can trace their lineage back to Seppala's teams.
If a small number of people hadn't kept breeding huskies, the breed would have become extinct. It's a bizarre triumph of Soviet Russia that when we hear the words "Siberian Husky," most of us think of Alaska.
It's amazing to me. I look at my two dogs, and feel that in a sense they exist because of me. Their breeder would never have brought them into the world if my family, along with a few others, hadn't been asking for puppies that year.
It leaves me with a flurry of questions.
How could anyone go so far to destory an entire race... of both humans and animals?
What would have happened if it weren't for fortunate acts of chance?
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