The safe deposit box

Yesterday evening, the Labraduo and I went for our sunset hike.

I always try to start in the sunshine on a south-facing slope where the golden rays cheer our spirits. At one point, I found the Duo on the opposite side of a gargantuan Ponderosa Pine that had fallen. I didn't call them but watched to see what they'd do.

R's approach was predictable. With no hesitation, he leaped the tree.

K's was less predictable. Do you see K in the photo below? She's looking for a way under the log.

Then, rather than run around it (which I was starting to think about directing her to do), she decided to hurdle it. She used a "steeplechase" style leap briefly placing her hind paws on the log. Launch...

Hind paws on log...

... and landing. The landing always scares me the most because I fear that she's going to injure her paw with the jarring impact.

It's hard learning to let our dogs live with verve even when I fear that they'll hurt themselves. My first female chocolate lab, Acadia, had severe elbow problems later in life. After her surgery, I talked with the vet about all my ideas for how to prevent future injury. As I told him about my long list of restrictions, he stopped me. With a sardonic grin, he said "you could rent a safe deposit box and lock her in there - that would certainly prevent injury". His comment stopped me in my tracks. Acadia didn't belong locked up and neither does K now.

Way back then, we talked some more about quality of life versus protectiveness, and that wonderful vet convinced me that, within reason, I should give Acadia the freedom to romp and live fully. I'm so glad that he took the time to help me see that, for dogs just like for humans, life isn't worth living if it's too restricted.

Isn't it funny that I was contemplating this same topic with regard to myself yesterday? It's not really so different for us or our dogs.

In any case, I still find myself wincing when K decides to hurdle a huge tree or leap straight off a towering boulder. But, I remember that wonderful vet's words about the "safe deposit box", and I let K decide what she wants to do.

K doesn't scorch her brother anymore in sprinting races (she did until a year or so ago) but she runs with the joy of a dog.

After the sunshine part our hike yesterday, I steered us toward Hug Hill to see the sunset. An unexpected obstacle stood in our path. A herd of elk...

I immediately called the dogs. I am so proud of how well they do in recalling away from wildlife. Believe me, a huge amount of work has gone into reaching the point that I am confident that they'll come when called even when faced with a hundred elk. The photo below shows R returning to me after seeing the herd.

The herd usually just thunders out of sight, and we continue on our way (with the dogs on leashes). But, yesterday, the elk seemed stymied about which way to go. I watched them run first one way and then another. Then, they stopped and stared at us. During the staring phase, I saw that the bull elk still have their antlers. They keep them until their new velvet antlers start growing and knock off the old ones in the spring.

We never made it to Hug Hill for sunset. We walked to a western-facing slope and peered through the trees at the fiery show so the elk could decide which way to go without our pressure.