Before I get to the woods, for those wondering, here’s an update on Elliot: She had her appointment with my friend and was loved by all during her visit. She is a little chubby (seriously… who knows how to score a Bearded Dragon’s body condition?), but otherwise healthy. Her blood work was all normal. She has not produced any more eggs, but my friend did palpate many more follicles, meaning there will be more in coming weeks. We will circle back to a spay if she ever has a complication with her egg-laying or after three normal rounds. For now, all is well (but life was simpler when she was a he).
Moving on…
The inspiration for this week’s post comes to you from none other than Google Photos. I opened it up the other day, checking to make sure some photos of Rook from a coworker had backed up as expected. Across the top of the screen was a series of photos titled, you guessed it, “In the woods.” There is one furry face in particular that shows up in many of those photos, and it simultaneously makes me want to smile and cry, depending on the day.
For those who never had the pleasure of meeting him, Flint was our near-perfect dog. He was our best friend and adventure buddy, as well as our lazy evening, Netflix-watching, Sunday-morning snuggler. The agenda never mattered to him, as long the three of us were doing it together. He left us years too soon, at only 10 years young on Saturday, December 30, 2017, after a battle with an unnamed sarcoma that he was apparently never meant to win. (That story is for another day, as is, perhaps, the eulogy he deserves and still hasn’t gotten from me because I just don’t have the right words, even after 3+ years.)
Although he was up for anything we wanted to do, Flint’s favorite place to be was always on a trail in the woods. I can’t say that I disagree with that preference, as it’s the number one place I’d rather be when not at my house. He was lucky enough to see and explore plenty of trails in his time with us, with trips to Ridley Creek State Park on a weekly to at least monthly basis. He also made many visits to Valley Forge and other local parks, as well as several day trips to Ricketts Glen and Hickory Run State Parks when we didn’t end up at Ridley. Flint traveled with us for vacations to Charleston, West Virginia, the White Mountains in New Hampshire and Asheville, North Carolina. He joined us for a weekend backpacking trip on the Appalachian Trail in central PA and for a similar long weekend years later along the West Rim Trail near Wellsboro, PA. He also tagged along for camping trips in northern NJ, along the Blue Ridge Parkway in Virginia and at Ricketts Glen, always trying to hide from the campfires we built in the evenings.
Flinty was such a huge and special part of our lives, and the memories of these adventures with him all fill my heart with joy. We’re most likely to remember Flint aloud when we’re out hiking, especially if we visit somewhere new. We envision his little flag, as referred to his tail, sticking straight out behind him as he trots down the trail, taking in all of the new, earthy smells or tongue lolling out the side of his mouth as he kicks dirt along the trail’s edge off into the woods.
He was generally so good about staying on the trail. Occasionally, he’d run off after a deer, but with time, we learned if we called him back as soon as he froze, pointing into the woods, he wasn’t lost to us yet. If he did take off, all we’d have to do is call for him while running the opposite direction, and he’d pop right back out onto the trail just ahead of us. When he was free, if he got far enough ahead of us on the trail that he couldn’t see us, he’d stop and wait, looking back until we reappeared. On our backpacking trips, if I fell behind the group, he’d stop and wait for me to catch up to everyone else.
We take Rook and Magic hiking too, but they aren’t as easy as Flint was. There’s no way we’d trust them with any kind of freedom. To pass other dogs, we usually step well off the trail and hold cheese under their noses, telling them, “Niiiiice!” until the other dog makes it past us. Not that they don’t like other dogs: they do. They’re very excitable though, especially when together, and not always great at appropriate greetings. Either of them would tackle a trail runner, if given the chance, and they sometimes get worried about some of the items that people carry with them on their hikes. Their excitement and reactivity are things we’re constantly working on with them. I see improvement, but it’s not always consistent or linear.
I admit that it is hard when either Rook or Magic has a particularly rough day from a behavioral standpoint, to not miss Flint a little extra and to make comparisons between them. I know that isn’t fair, as each of them is an individual. Neither Rook nor Magic, nor any other dog I’ll ever meet, can ever be Flint. At the end of the day, I wouldn’t want them to be; I love them all for who they are and hope to have many years of memory-making ahead of us with both Rook and Magic.
“You shall walk where only the wind has walked before
and when all the music is stilled
you shall hear the singing of the stream
and enter the living shelter of the forest.”
~John Glascock Baldwin~
