Anyone who knows me understands how much my pal Xena meant up until her death in April 2006. She was my best bud for 8-1/2 years. Before I adopted her, I was given a pamplet about huskies, which I always referred to as "101 Reasons Not to Have a Siberian Husky." But that pamphlet was not complete.

Reason #102: They are little hair factories on four legs. They shed more hair in a month than most people grow in a lifetime. People who tell you they shed only in the summertime to lose their coat are liars. The shed year-round. And shed. And shed.

The Siberian Husky coat is amazing, and it's why they can survive in temperatures as low as minus-50 degrees. The have two coats, and their skin produces an oil that makes them somewhat water-repellant and dirt tends to slide off of them. The outer coat is long, sturdy strands, and I believe they are hollow like that of a deer, which gives them buoyancy in water. The undercoat is soft as cotton balls, and it grows very thick. This serves as insulation in winter, and as a wick for cooling the dogs in hot weather. This is the stuff they shed in clumps. The stuff that you can peel off of them like cotton candy when they drop their coat. I have a picture of Xena after a grooming, and I asked them to save the hair they combed out. It's hysterical, because the bag of hair is as big as the dog.

I spent a fair amount of time grooming Xena, or picking up clumps of hair from the carpet. I saved it. I wanted to make something with it. Line a coat. Make a soft, fluffy pillow. Perhaps a scarf. I wasn't sure what purpose it would have, but I saved it. Two big boxloads of husky hair.

Two of my dearest friends are Paul and Annie. Annie is into spinning. Not the health club bicycle spinning, which I don't understand, because it's a lot of work, and the view never changes. She spins wool into yarn. Annie told me she could do something with Xena's fur. I filled a couple of 30-gallon trash bags, which was about half the booty, and gave it to Annie. It needed to be washed and cleaned and processed, and Annie said it would not work for spinning. But she said she would try to blend it with wool to make it useful for knitting.

Fast forward to this evening. Paul came by to pick me up to go to a hockey game, and brought a belated Christmas gift. She made the most meaningful gift I think I've ever received. I now own a very fuzzy, very warm gray-and-white pair of slippers. When the Iditarod starts the first week in March, well, I won't be in Alaska, but I'll be checking the results online while wearing my slippers.

Xena always found a way to warm my heart. Even now, she's doing a pretty good job on my feet.