The Dogs of San Francisco

We saw this guy outside a cafe on Polk Street and were bowled over by his sheer awesomeness. Is he a dog? A bear? A Scottish Highland cow? A Scottish Highland dogbearcow? We asked his owner, and it turns out that he’s an Alaskan Malamute. He didn’t look like any Malamute we’d ever seen in our lives, and initially, I didn’t think he could be purebred. Turns out, he *is* a Malamute, but has a particular genetic mutation that causes extra floofliness.

Just look at the amount of fluff on this fine specimen. Imagine combing him out. Think of how many kitschy, ugly Christmas sweaters your Great Aunt Mary could knit from that. Then imagine the smell whenever you go out in the rain wearing one.

An awesome dog, indeed.  Second picture after the break.

Edit: His mom found our little blog, and his name is Mishka! Which is a name that tends to get attached to cute little teddy bears in Russia. How appropriate! (Now ask how I know this: I took Russian in high school, and it’s one of the very few things that stuck in my head.)

Here we see the elusive Wooly Mala-Mammoth in its native habitat.

Continue reading →

I spent a good five minutes with this gal.  About thirty seconds of photo-taking, about four minutes and thirty seconds of belly rubs, back-skritches, and nose-to-nose communing.  I love Malamutes, Huskies, and all those other arctic fuzzybutts.  They’re friendly, they’re lovely to pet, and they warm you up as much as any three wool sweaters.  Plus they give kisses.

Four pictures this time, three of them after the break.

Malamute, mute, yet hopeful.

Continue reading →