Louie, our Australian Shepherd, knows the typical weekend morning routine. He consistently pays attention to all of the signs and knows when it’s approaching “that time.” After we’ve had a few cups of coffee and some breakfast, he starts the stare. If you have a dog, especially a herding breed, you know what stare I’m talking about. It’s the one where the dog wants something to happen and starts a staring contest until the request is met. For Louie, that result is a long walk on the trail. And the stare starts well before we’re ready to leave the couch.
When we do start moving, his herding instincts really kick in. Louie makes sure we’re changing from pajamas into clothes for the weather and activity and trading slippers to shoes designed for the trail. He’s on our heels with little barks to keep us heading in the right direction.
We’re fortunate to live in an area with a trail system that works for casual walkers, more experienced hikers, runners, and cyclists. We take short walks in our neighborhood after dinner, but we save the trails for longer weekend adventures, and we pack accordingly. For Louie, that means a full water bottle with his collapsible cup for warmer days or longer hikes and banana chips for every trail day. We use those to reward good behavior and recall his attention when he’s distracted, often by other dogs. He also turns his head towards us simply to beg for one because he’s kind of addicted, and we’re bad about spoiling our pup.
There’s a lot of action for a dog along the trail. He gets to smell different scents and interact with other animals and people. We always know if deer or coyotes or squirrels are near. He smells them before we see them. Aussies have to talk to everyone! Sometimes, he’ll go up on his back legs like a bear to bark at critters.
There’s a woman we’ve chatted with several times on our weekend morning trail excursions. She is packed for her time on the trail, too, and her supplies include a small oxygen device with tubing looped over her ears that leads to her nose. I don’t know what makes walking the trail difficult for her, and I’ve never asked. But I know this: she keeps showing up. I’m more impressed by her efforts to walk the trails than the people who zoom by us in running shoes or on bikes.
She’s told us that she loves dogs and gets so excited to see Louie. It’s easy to tell that she understands dogs, too. She always asks if she can pet him before reaching out her hand. Louie is well trained, but she knows better than to put her face in his. I always cringe when people get right down in Louie’s face. He is a dog, after all. Lots of things could happen on the trail that could distract him or make him anxious. But she gets it. This lady is calm as she pets him and talks to him. He clearly enjoys his trailside chats with her.
We enjoy our time with her, too. She’ll ask us questions about how we groom Louie because his fur is soft, or we’ll talk about the weather. I don’t know anything about her life, but I know enough to feel her joy. It radiates from her. The smile. The twinkling eyes. The gentle warmth with our dog. It’s a beautiful thing to experience her presence on the trail. Her kindness and gentle spirit go before her.
They say dogs are good judges of character. Louie’s stubby tail wags when she approaches, and he often gives her a paw. I think Louie’s right. She’s pretty special.
I hope she knows what I see every time we meet her on the trail. She brings a little more goodness to the path simply by being there. Her smile, her kindness, her excitement to see Louie. Those things stay with us long after we’ve continued on our way.
Keep walking, my friend. We need people like you.
sharing the stairs 