Just A Hike

Meet Cece

This is Some Dogs, a blog about dogs. Click this link to subscribe.

Hi there. Thanks for stopping by. If you are new here then let me introduce you to Peggy and Steve. You’ve now met the two most important dogs I know. Today we’ll talk about three dogs. Let’s all take a deep breath and direct our focus on a dog for a moment.

Peggy and Steve know their trails intimately. They squeal with joy from the backseat when we approach Peas Farm and its meandering fields and creek frontage. They pant excitedly when we turn up the switchbacks that, in May, are dotted with flowering balsamroot. At the power line trail they get so excited they always (mercifully) get their business done right by the trailhead trash cans. At the Waterworks trail, Peggy acts like a disgruntled teen before we leave the car because the first part of the trail is steep. Steve, younger brother extraordinaire, nudges past her and leaps out of the vehicle with far too much energy.

But there is nothing quite like a new trail. From the backseat, Peggy and Steve survey the land passing by their windows expectantly. They know, from the many errands and vet visits and road trips not to get their hopes up. But in the back of their canine minds they know — a glorious hike could be on the other side.

When we pulled up to the Blue Mountain trailhead there was much squealing. The chilly overcast midday was slowly giving way to the first true afternoon of Spring.

Peggy and Steve shot out of the car all at once as if spring loaded, causing a tangle of limbs and fur to appear at our feet. Once sorted Peggy paused and raised her head to the sky. Regally, she sniffed the air, detecting hints of pine and college students playing frisbee golf. Steve, unconcerned with sensory memories, bounded around the trail head in concentric circles stopping only to mark the fence separating the lot from hundreds of acres of open space.

Safely in the expanse, they were off. Peggy, as always, blazed the trail with her signature lumber. She moved methodically uphill in a straight line, as if to conserve energy and achieve a complex three-legged aerodynamic equilibrium. Steve’s movements resembled that of a sugar-high toddler: erratic, determined, impossible to understand, but nonetheless extremely urgent.

Initially, the trail was steep. The spring melt left thick, muddy patches that caked Peggy’s lone back paw as it steadied her climb. At the moment I worried the ascent might be difficult for her, she turned around for a moment, smiled proudly with her wagging tongue and flung herself uphill with an excited gallop. As we neared the top, she meandered briefly off trail to errant patches of unmelted snow. She perused each spot for untainted snow and began licking furiously, as is her wont. Afterwards, she plopped down to cool her belly on the last remnants of winter. Ensconced in snow, her brown body gave off the slightest steam. I can only describe the vibe as triumphant.

Peggy and Steve had a companion on this hike — a young cattle dog with Corgie ears named Cece. What you need to know about Cece is that Cece loves exploring the woods more than you have loved anything in this earthly life. You will know this to be true should you ever hike with her. Off leash in the forest Cece is more deer than dog. She bounds effortlessly down steep grades, dodging branches, thorny bushes, dead trees and active limbs. On trail, Cece pauses inquisitively every few moments. It is a notification that a vole 900 feet away has moved a millimeter and must be investigated as soon as possible.

Steve and Cece

Steve and Cece are made of similar stuff. Off leash, the two act as partners in a furry cable TV police procedural. On a particularly steep descent, both dashed off furiously into the woods. Fifty feet below, between the pines, the two played good cop/bad cop on a terrified squirrel. Steve secured the perimeter from behind while Cece leapt aggressively from downed tree to downed tree to try and contain its movements. At two points during the chase the animals paused in sync and looked to each other. They exchanged data in an indecipherable way and continued chasing.

As the afternoon turned to evening, the trail’s steep grade gave way. Peggy, finding purchase on flat ground took the lead. Her undercarriage was filled with brambles and flecks of mud — the telltale signs of a good time. Steve, basking in the sunlight, ran back and forth between the hikers, his tongue a solid six inches out of his mouth. Cece, back on leash, sniffed the air as a stiff breeze blew the location of 10 squirrels her way. Their shadows grew as we reached the trailhead.