Book review: ‘Four Thousand Paws’ is a welcome addition to the growing library of Iditarod literature

“Four Thousand Paws: Caring for the Dogs of the Iditarod: A Veterinarian’s Story”

By Lee Morgan; Liveright, 2024; 304 pages; $27.99.

So many books have been written about the Iditarod that it’s fair to ask if any new angles can be found. Histories, personal memoirs and accounts by reporters who have covered the race abound. But until now, one aspect has escaped literary notice, and it’s an important one.

“At the risk of sounding a little egotistical,” volunteer Iditarod veterinarian Lee Morgan writes, “the trail vet is one of the most critical roles, in large part because we’re the ones who support the dogs themselves.”

Veterinarians are found at every checkpoint along the roughly 1,000-mile-long course, tasked with examining each dog upon arrival for injury, illness or previously undetected medical conditions. None can proceed without approval from one of the volunteer vets who have the final say on whether the animal can continue toward Nome or catch the next flight back to Anchorage. It’s a huge undertaking and a tremendous responsibility. Some years, more than 1,000 dogs arrive at the starting line, and seeing to the individual safety of each one at each stop is not an easy job.

Morgan, a veterinarian from Washington, D.C., has volunteered with the Iditarod nearly every year since 2012, and in his recent book “Four Thousand Paws” he tells the story of how he became involved and what some of his experiences have been.

Morgan writes that he was aware of calls for vets to work the race for several years before taking the bait. He mostly worked with domestic animals, so canine athletes were a bit out of his normal practice. Even after applying, he had to attend a class in Anchorage before being accepted, a class not every applicant is successful in. That first year he made the cut, and from there it was off to the race.

Morgan’s love for dogs is evident right out of the gate. He tells a great story of a pre-race vet check where he was befriended by a dog that clandestinely got her snout into his pocket and absconded with all of his treats. It’s not the only tale found here of a conniving husky that outsmarted him and sated its appetite while not being carefully supervised. Humorous anecdotes about the personalities of these critters surface repeatedly as this lively book progresses.

After the official start in Willow, Morgan tells his story through chapters set in each successive checkpoint rather than attempting a chronological memoir, a move that well serves the book’s clarity. Readers follow him up the trail, hopscotching from one stop to the next. He gets to know mushers and fellow volunteers, as well as locals if there are any (some of the stops are devoid of residents). Along the way, he experiences some of the most remote places in Alaska while checking the welfare of arriving dogs before sending them onward or ordering them pulled from the race.

Veterinarians, we quickly learn, don’t get special treatment. In addition to their medical duties, they’re expected to help with setting up tents and other equipment at checkpoints and assisting with all the tasks required to prepare the stops for the incoming teams. It’s a lot of hard work in sometimes exceedingly frigid conditions, and sometimes things go wrong. A stove fire in Finger Lake was a particularly memorable mishap, and one that fortunately didn’t lead to injuries.

Yet even as he found himself doing a lot more than veterinary work, Morgan discovered along the trail a sense of freedom from the bureaucratic hassles of running an urban animal clinic in the nation’s capital. “I liked it here,” he writes. “No board reviews, no hospital inspections, no ringing phones. My job had become far more elemental. I got up in the morning and examined dogs all day long. There were no substantive arguments or conflicts. People took me at my word, and the dogs were better off for it.”

Another thing readers will learn here is what happens to dogs that are withdrawn from the competition. Ultimately all are flown back to Anchorage, but veterinarians have set up a three-tiered color code system for determining the order of necessity for sending them out. White implies minor medical issues and the dog is cared for at the checkpoint until transportation as part of a group can be easily arranged. Red means the dog is in critical condition, and is rushed back to Anchorage as soon as possible. Blue lies somewhere in between and these dogs are taken away on the next available plane.

As Morgan works his way up the trail, he provides brief details about each checkpoint that give readers a feel for what the places they read about in news reports are like. It’s a nice touch. Most books focus on the race itself and the difficulties of the trail. The stops get rushed through. Here we spend a bit of time in Skwentna, McGrath, Takotna, Shaktoolik and other locales. Morgan offers insight on these remote outposts that’s rarely found in other Iditarod books.

Morgan was on hand for some of the more dramatic events that have occurred during recent Iditarods, including the 2016 attacks on Aliy Zirkle and Jeff King, who were deliberately and repeatedly struck by a snowmachine rider, and the onset of the pandemic in 2020, which swept across the country and into Alaska as the race was underway. Curiously, he never discusses dog deaths, which do still occasionally occur. The omission of a veterinarian’s perspective on this unfortunate element of the race, and what can be done to further reduce such incidents, is the sole shortcoming of this book.

That said, Morgan does do a fine job of detailing the role of veterinarians in the race while conveying the importance both mushers and officials place on dog welfare in a book that’s fun to read. He’s the kind of author you want to meet in person. “Four Thousand Paws” is an excellent and much-needed addition to the always-growing library of Iditarod literature.

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