File this under "the odds are good/the goods are odd." Probably helps to be up on one's Latin also, or at least experience in the fraternity system.
Can't help but see the correlation between walking into a musher's dog lot and pretty much any pick-up bar in Alaska. There's always a token representative in every pack, the wolf, the mutt, the thoroughbred, the stray, and the cur.
|(In the proverbial doghouse again)|