Couch Slouch checks in on the Iditarod, and its canine correspondent

The Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race -- often called "The Last Great Race on Earth," with 71 man-and-man's- best-friend groups trekking across Alaska -- is near its conclusion. Tuffy the Snow Prince, the outspoken 55-pound Siberian husky on musher Spoons Grabilovitch's sled team, again agreed to keep a daily log for us. Here are excerpts of Tuffy's Iditarod journal:

Day 1: I always skip the "ceremonial start" in Anchorage -- it's just a dog-and-pony show and we've got no ponies. . . . Prize money's down this year, but you won't see even crocodile tears coming out of my eyes, because we still get nothing. . . . Last time I went to the vet, I complained of lower back pain. His advice? "Walk it off." . . .

If Sarah Palin's right, we should be in Russia by Thursday.

Day 2: They've got some Jamaican musher up here for the first time. Now that's what I call an underdog. . . . There's also a Scottish entrant this year and he's wearing a kilt. Kilts are fine -- if you're in Applebee's. WE'RE IN SUBFREEZING TEMPS out here . . . How do they think I'm going to have time to Tweet during this thing? . . . Last year was my worst Iditarod ever -- I had IBS and forgot my iPod. . . .

Nothing worse than an angry moose predawn.

Day 3: Three-time defending champion Lance Mackey's brother Rick also won an Iditarod, as did their father Dick. Archie Manning never won a Super Bowl, did he? . . . I'm a little concerned -- I heard they're adding a halfpipe to the trail. . . . My favorite cough drops? Ricola! . . . I heard the Japanese sled had trouble with unexpected acceleration. . . .

Crap! I forgot to fill out my brackets before I left.

Day 4: You know what kills me? Some frat boy plays Iditarod on Wii and thinks he can hack it out here. . . . We had no visibility today -- I couldn't even see Yukon Pete's butt hole in front of me. . . . It's about time they tested the mushers for drugs -- we're not the ones with Walgreen cards. . . . I'm suffering from dehydration, diarrhea and exhaustion, but -- as we like to say -- at least I've got my health.

Would it have killed them to put one stinkin' husky in "Avatar?"

Day 5: It's tough sledding out here for all of us, but I'll still take the Iditarod Trail over I-95 any day of the week. . . . I hate it when they have us run at night -- let's see how much Bode Miller likes skiing downhill after dark. . . . Midway through the '85 race, my Uncle Dmitri ran away and joined the circus. Who could blame him? . . .

Like an idiot, I didn't bring a nail clipper.

Day 6: I want to soak my poor, aching paws every evening, but in these parts, a bucket of hot water turns into a bucket of ice in a Wasilla minute. . . . I love the windswept coast. There's a little Samoyed with whom I've shacked up for years in Unalakleet. . . . Man, I'm famished here. What is this, Yom Kippur for dogs? . . .