"Siska's Voice" stories from Lynn Connell Olenik

Siska was a little husky who I shared my life with through some of the most challenging times I was to face. He was a solid, loving, mischievous little fellow that somehow traversed the world around him with a true zest for life. He had a spirit that won over human and canine friends regardless of where he went and what he was asked to do.

He ended up living well past his 14th year, beginning with our family at about 9 months. As of this time, he knew most of my dogs, my closes friends and family members. He was often an observer; head up, ears perked forward, communing with nature; taking it all in. Secretly, I believe he was continually plotting his next escape as he was a crafty one! More than anything, he became the ambassador for our family of dogs; always inviting them in, extending a courteous tail-wagging hello and showing them the best places to sleep. I think, and perhaps this will offend some, he told the misfits and second-hand dogs that we brought home, it would be ok; that all was well and they landed in a great spot. I think he also took the time to get to know them, their pasts and their insecurities; their preferences and their quirks.

He always had a lot to say; adding to conversations from canines and humans and even a few birds from time to time. A sweeter boy has never existed and we were luck to have him grace our home and our hearts for as long as he did.

Lynn 11/09/2025

The Silo the Swallowed Siska: A photo came up recently in my memories of the silo down the road. It was an old stone silo that had been out of use for decades, attached to a barn that had collapsed. No one lived at that farm, nor had anyone lived there for many years. Siska was a willey and adventuristic little guy and his love for roaming never changed. He just got a bit slower as he aged, so he was a dog that only got off lease privileges in a secure dog park, and even then, his first exploration in the park was to check the entire fence line for an escape route. Only once that was done, and he found no way out, would he allow himself the pleasure of exploring what the park had to offer.

The exact circumstances of his escape in the evening was hard to pinpoint. As he was older, I would usually put the rowdy crowd in the yard, and put him on a tie out to do his business in peace by the front porch. After a few minutes, I went to bring him in and he had evaporated off the porch, with his tie out attached; "poof" he was gone. We searched, friends searched, employees searched, neighbors searched; we put up signs, put out flyers, called all the authorities, the postal workers, the bus drivers; the whole town was looking for him. When it came down to it, he was gone for 3 days and we were all exhausted and sick. Many tears were shed.

I was leaving for work when a neighbor called; we think we hear him! My daughter went to check it out. We flew out of the house, up to the neighbors as this wonderful young lady was shimmying into the abandoned silo. He had crawled in there for a nap and fell through the old rotten floor. We had been through the old barn, shined lights into the silo, called his name. He possibly wasn't there, or he just wasn't hungry enough to come home yet. I don't want to think about the snacks he may have found in the bottom of that silo. The drop was only about 3 feet, but with the floor rotten, it added another 2-3 feet where he was stuck. The silo was less than a half mile from our house. Multiple people had been over that spot multiple times.

The veterinarian gave him fluids and told us to watch for any limping, vomiting or other signs of trauma. He was fine, although he slept for another 3 days. Husky owners all have stories of "that one time" they got away. Here's to the ones that manage to make it home.

Lynn 12/4/2025

The Joys of Fall Training: I started training and conditioning my sled dogs as soon as the weather would cool. 50 degrees in August at 6 a.m.? I would set up the bike and start with short individual runs. I would transition pretty quickly to the cart and by November, we would all be watching the skies for the first signs of snow. There was however the 10 days of pure frustration where, in the middle of our training regime, we would be forced to stop most training because of deer hunting season. Running dogs on trails through the woods full of hunters was just not a good idea. If I timed it just right, I could get ready to run as the sun was setting and run in the dark, as shooting after the sun went down is taboo.

The cart was fairy heavy, and using it was the safest bet for two or three dogs. I had a spot that had only a few miles with easy turn arounds that could be managed. It was on this trail, with the cart, with Dante', Lobo and Moskey that we took off in reflective vest, a head lamp and a flashlight attached to the cart. A cardinal rule of sledding for me was DON'T EVER LET GO. You may get dragged, you may end up wet, muddy or bloody, but don't lose your team! I almost never did and I have a few stories of some epic drag happening. Well, this was one of those times. The trail, an old railroad bed, was flat and straight; you could a great distance in front of you; although, did I mention, it was dark? As we started out, they were ready before I was. The anticipation had been building from the time we loaded the car to when we finally got to the trailhead. Huskies can scream like a primordial pack of wolves when they are excited but once in motion, you can barely hear their feet as they float along the surface. The cart however squeaks like a freight train. So we went from screaming, caterwauling and yowling to silence in an instance. Of course, as they took off, I tripped with one hand on the cart and my feet dangling behind me. Head lamp bobbing along, the cart squeaking and me letting loose with a list of expletives that you would only hear in a bar late on a Saturday night. The flashlight was bobbing away as well. Here is how I met the guys who was hunting and walking on the trail toward me. The dogs, barely visible, attached to the cart, dragging me swearing along running straight at this poor soul. He jumped off the trail and, as my friendly huskies were trained to do, they ran past him and to keep on going. He hollered out " do you need some help" as I slid on by. The slight hesitation they had given when passing the hunter gave me enough purchase to at least kneel on the platform and then get the break set, which made the squeaky contraption grind slowly to a halt. They could still move it but they finally got the hint that maybe Mom wants us to stop. He and I had a good laugh about this. In his mind, a pack of wild animals had taken down "something" in the woods. He could not figure out what the squeak and the swearing was all about until we were right on top of him. I made quite am impression as I was full of mud, torn pants, bloody knee and even blood on my chin. To say the least, I turned the team around with his help. Now, after running the shenanigans out of their system, the 3 trotted along at an easy pace back to the car; the picture of a well trained, amiable dog team.

In all of this, I followed the cardinal rule, I did not let go of my team. And I lived to mush again. Fall training; not for the faint of heart.

Lynn 11/22/2025