A dog-pulling-human dream fulfilled: Dog sledding at the Mushers Bowl

I once tried to convince the family dog to pull me down our quiet neighborhood street. I'd tucked myself into our Radio Flyer red wagon, clutching a fishing pole in one hand and ol' Brandy's leash in the other. At the end of the fishing pole, a tempting hot dog dangled. At the end of the leash, a shepherd/lab mutt with a contented grin and no inclination to pull me anywhere sat panting in the summer sun.

Just when Brandy's attention seemed to have been roused, and the hope of speeding headlong down the sidewalk - Brandy sprinting at the lead - had reached its peak, my mother stepped outside.

"Don't do that to the poor dog," she said. And then came some pep talk about how 27 was too old for childish hijinx like this, or something to that effect, but I couldn't hear it. My dreams had been dashed in the driveway of my own home.

But dreams - the good ones - never really die. And eventually, years later, you'll find yourself gliding over the ice-corked surface of a Bridgton lake, a team of dogs pulling the way. And there you'll be, lounging in the trailing sled, squinting from the wind and sun and thinking, "Yea, it's as awesome as I thought it'd be."

The dogs-pulling-human opportunity - otherwise known as dog sledding - came this past weekend during the Mushers Bowl in Bridgton. While the dogsled races make up the meat of the event, spectators can amble over to Highland Lake for a 30-minute dogsled ride of their own.

I joined my colleague Wendy Almeida and her two daughters at the lake and dogsledder Kate Kelly took Wendy's eldest and myself out for a lake-top jaunt.

[Read Wendy's blog entry about the day on RaisingMaine.com]

The six dogs pulled us with apparent ease. I stood on the back with Kelly at first, suprised by the relative steadiness of the sled. Little guidance was needed in this environment - they simply followed the dogsled in front of them.

At our journey's halfway point I climbed into the sled. No fishing pole and hotdogs needed here. Just the ability to appreciate the wide blank canvas of snow ahead and the rhythmic plod of dog paws on the path.

And an appropriate "thank you," expressed through a hearty scratch behind the ears, is simply good courtesy.