Let it snow!

From yesterday... the golden fringe on K is caused by the sun rays hitting her from behind. Look at the patches of dry ground!

To today... No sun but several feet of snow and snow flakes rocketing out of the sky.

This morning, K and I headed out into a bottomless world of snow. It was difficult to find the trails in our forest because the world looked so alien. After a big snow like this, whatever path is chosen by the first person in the forest will be followed by everyone for a month (because it's such hard work to break a new trail). Since K and I were the first out there, we chose the route!

Sometimes K porpoised through the powder like a puppy. I held my breath when she plunged into the snow but she was fine, aside from a small abrasion near her radiation burn.

At other times, she followed in the trail that I'd broken.

I love the silence during a snowstorm. The air was still and flakes floated out of the sky. Every sound was muffled, and the birds had fallen silent. It felt as if we lived in the most remote part of the world.

I didn't take K too far because it was such hard work to plow through the snow, and I didn't want to push her too hard. After our hike, I played on my snowbike for a little while. Over the past week, I've been able to travel far and wide on my snowbike because the snow was so packed down.

Today, I didn't make it far from home. This is our driveway. Look at the wall of snow by its side.

After I floundered in the deep snow on my snow bike for a while, it was time to head inside and get toasty by the fire. I chuckled as I approached the house. The days of lounging on that deck seem like a very distant memory.

Let it snow! It's supposed to keep falling all night long.

A snowy hike

Yesterday afternoon, the Duo and I took a snowy hike. Snow plummeted out of the sky creating a tunnel of white.

The Duo were ecstatic, zooming around like they were possessed by the spirit of winter.

R clamped a large branch in his jaws and zipped enticingly past K. Alas, K wasn't in a "stick" game mood.

K was busy flying instead!

Most of the animals had hunkered down during the maelstrom. That is, except the hardy coyotes. I saw their very fresh tracks on our path. I think that the dogs scented them in this photo as they focused on the direction where the paw tracks were leading.

I immediately called them and leashed them. R stormed back to me, thanks to our many hours of practicing recalls close to coyote scent. K wasn't far behind.

Of all the animals in our forest, I worry most about coyotes hurting our dogs. They live in packs here, and they have a "luring" strategy for tempting a dog into their midst. The outcome is sometimes dire for the dog. Consequently, I vigilantly in watch for signs of coyotes during outings. Moreover, when I see fresh coyote tracks, I often practice recalls right next to the tracks to prepare the dogs for future tempting situations.

"24 Paws of Love" asked how I decide when it's safe to let the dogs run off-leash after reading about the fact that I leash K when following mountain lion tracks. As a general rule, I leash the dogs when we are traveling on a wild animal's tracks, when we are in areas that I know are heavily used by wild animals, and when the dogs' body language tells me that an exciting wild animal is nearby.

The kind of body language that catches my attention is either the start of intense running into the woods or a prolonged stare focused on one section of the woods. I watched K closely during the stare in the photo below but it turned out to be a false alarm.

Then, the Duo both perched on boulders, almost like a sculpture, to contemplate a scent or sound that I couldn't perceive. Their intensity didn't reach a level that made me leash them.

Walking through the snow storm was bitingly cold but tons of fun. I love being in the forest when the fury of the natural world is unleashed.

Comparatively, this morning was calm but painfully cold. The snow had stopped and the wind lulled at dawn. K stood resplendent in the sunrise light at the start of our snow bike ride.

Despite the cold, I reveled in the glory of our snowy forest. The crystalline blue sky beckoned K and me up high to gaze at the towering peaks of the Continental Divide.

We climbed through the fresh snow and the dark forest, eventually emerging out of the shade and into the sunshine. Oh, what a day - a day to celebrate the stunning beauty of wintertime in the mountains! I'll show more photos of our winter world tomorrow.

What does K want?

Today, with no hesitation, K headed toward the bike room to go riding with me. It took only one day to convince her that I wouldn’t be leaving her home with a paltry frozen kong to assuage her heart. She started galloping with abandon from the first instant of our ride.

We did a short ride, just like yesterday, because I am trying hard not to ask too much of her paw. It is so much harder to gauge the “right” pace of recovery for a dog than for myself because K doesn't tell me when it hurts. In fact, Labs seem to specialize in hiding pain. They look dignified and happy all the time.

As I rode and K romped, I thought about the journey that K and I have traveled since September. I identified the moment that nearly tore my heart to pieces. It was after we knew that her tendon surgery had failed, and we knew that she had either bone cancer or a bone infection in her toe bones. We needed to decide whether to amputate the toe or do a trial of antibiotics to see if we could save the toe. Because the vets put the odds at 50/50, either cancer or infection, my mind jumped from one side to the other with every shift in the breeze. I felt like K and I were teetering on the edge of a cliff.

Finally, after a long and inconclusive conversation about the pros and cons of amputation versus antibiotics, my vet asked me a simple question: “What does K want?”. That question pushed me off the cliff into a torrent of tears. The reason was that I knew that being alive and being loved trumped running for K. It was my selfish yearning to have K join me on alpine adventures that was complicating my thinking. So, by asking one simple question, my vet gently led me to a decision. I would do what K wanted… and have her toe amputated, thus maximizing her chances of surviving while perhaps stealing her athletic ability.

It seems ironic that, although I thought that I was making a decision that would hinder K’s running, she’s back romping by my side now. She’s flying high – and I couldn’t be more thankful.

It's a question that I won't forget when faced with a tough veterinary decision in the future. What does my dog want?