Last summer, we discovered Little Si and fell in love with it. Located in the Cascade Mountain Range, it is a shorter, easier version of Mt. Si, with beautiful moss-covered boulders and varied terrain. Unlike Mt. Si, which is continual switch backs climbing in elevation steeply, Little Si's trail meanders up and down, left and right.
It's funny how dogs sense an adventure. Before I even got out the pack, Pongo began following me back and forth from the kitchen to the bedroom. I can't mention the word "hike" or "walk" or "jogging" until we are about to go out the door, or he will start whining and jumping around in a circle. For the first time, my husband, Del, accompanied us. I made breakfast at six a.m. and we left around seven, our bellies satisfied with fried potatoes, toast and egg.
In the car, Pongo stood up, panting in the backseat. Del kept telling him to lay down, but Pongo paced, turning circles. "He won't lay down," I said, "he's too excited." At least he wasn't standing over the gear shift, like he sometimes does. In the past, I have tried different models of doggie seatbelts, without success. Pongo always finds a way to get out of them, earning the nickname of "Houdini-Po." Because I am always driving, I don't know how he gets out of them, but he does.
By eight-thirty, we were on the trail. It was raining, and I was already wishing I'd brought my hiking boots, but I had decided to wear my running shoes instead. Pongo led the way, running ahead, stopping to look back frequently, to make sure we were coming. We are both amazed at his energy. He hopped over rocks, bounding up even the steep parts of the trail. You would never know that he was twelve years old.
It wasn't until we neared the top, that we saw his back legs waver, and a slight stumble. It worries me. It is hard to see him aging. But watching him on a trail, he is at his happiest. I can't deny him that, just because he's getting older. Dogs belong in nature.
Little Si's peak is at 1,575 feet. When we reached it, the rain was coming down steadily. Nevertheless, we sat down on a rock to eat a peanut butter sandwich. There was one for each of us, even Pongo. Hiking is the only time he is allowed peanut butter sandwiches, and I now make him one of his own instead of having to share mine with him. Okay, I still share. That's love.
On the way home, Pongo lay down in the backseat of the car and slept the whole way. Once we arrived, I took him straight to the bathtub where he got a warm bath. What a muddy dog he was! After all of us had showered, it was time for a long nap.
A clean, tired puppy at home. Happy trails!
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