Retired sled dogs like to lounge around if there’s nothing to do, but they are all about going hiking if that’s on the agenda. They crave affection, but typically aren’t pushy about it. And most of the time, they aren’t hyper like a puppy or one-year-old. At age eight or so, those wild and crazy days are long behind them.

They’re mellow and, in a doggy way, mature – unlike most pet dogs who’ve never been in a pack, or who’ve never ran thousands of miles each winter. You don’t have to worry about much in the way of training, or dealing with an amped up juvenile that needs five hours of constant exercise each day. They’ve been there and done that.

The undeniably self-serving point of this post is this: Aging sled dogs make incredible pets.

I occasionally place an eight-year-old dog with a pet home. But not as often as I should, not for lack of wanting. (There’s not that much of a market for adult dogs, sadly.) And we keep two to five old gummers around at any given time, dogs over the age of 10 who’ve put in their time and are enjoying their golden years by collecting bones and digging dens under trees.

I feel there’s a bias out there against adopting “used” dogs. People want puppies because they’re so darn cute, and so darn new and fresh. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with puppies. I raise a litter or two each summer. They’re incredible. But they are a lot of work for at least a year. And they’re great if you want a buddy who’ll be with you for 15 years.

If you worry that an older dog won’t love you as much as it loved its previous owner, I’ve got a bubble to burst. Dogs love whoever they’re with, and they’ll switch packs without a second thought. It’s part of their ancestry, back when they were wolves. Wolf packs split up; the young and disenfranchised go off and find mates, creating new packs. The same state of mind holds true for dogs, at least the sled dogs I’ve seen. They love me dearly, then I loan them out to another musher, and they love whoever else is feeding them just as dearly. When they come back, they love me dearly.

They can have their quirks. Some are a little shy around anyone they don’t know. Some are head strong. I gave an aging lead dog to a co-worker a few years ago, and found out later that they loved their new pet, but her husband had the hardest time jogging with the dog. The dog kept pulling on the leash with all his might as if he was trying to pull the man across the road. Which side of the road was he running on?, I asked. The woman looked puzzled, but said he ran up the left side of the road. That was the problem, I said. I train my dogs to run up the right side of the road on training runs, to avoid head-on collisions with oncoming cars. The older dogs always yank the youngsters over to the right until they figure it out. The dog was trying his darnedest to do just that, but the human at the other end of the leash wasn’t getting it.

We lose one or two dogs a year to old age, and always mourn the loss. It gives me some perspective. I realize with some amazement that every dog has something very special in it that can never quite be replaced by any other dog, some cool habit or trait. We feel the loss, but we also marvel at the charming or funny or loving quirks of the others.

We love our retirees. There’s Kit, who’s 13 or so, but always smiling as she lopes along on arthritic wrists. We’ve got Kazan, 12, who was my best leader but who now is on three legs and stone deaf, but still very busy and happy. And Tutka, 10, is a big, boisterous 75-pounder who likes to get the rest of the yard riled up. But there’s always one or two more on the way up.

Handel, 9, who just ran her seventh thousand-mile race this year as a leader with Joe Runyan’s team, is ready to retire. Skeet, one of my good leaders from a few years ago, is also 9. On the horizon, there’s Teton and Shasta, brothers turning 8 this summer, who can smell retirement in their future. (Both finished with different Iditarod teams in 2008).

My point isn’t so much to find homes for my dogs. Some have already been lined up with new owners, and we always seem to find room here for a retiree. My point is a little broader. If you’re looking for a really cool dog to hang out on your porch, couch or front yard, consider taking a “used dog” from a reputable dog musher. Don’t rush, and obviously, make it someone you trust.