Trail(er) Days

The early days - at Indian Graves.

This year Teresa and Nollind have decided they want to get more trail riding in so their goal is to get out to the mountains once a week. I used to love the trails, went along on every ride, but then trail days for people and horses turned into trail-er days for dogs. Yup, we get left behind in the living quarters of the horse trailer these days. It’s comfortable and cool and there’s a window to look out if you hop up on the bench seat, but it’s not like the old days of following them down the trail.

Leading the ride up a mountainside in BC.

I lost count of how many trail rides I went on over the years, all over Kananaskis Country, and even a couple of weeks in the Smithers area of BC. I was a “trail dog” and Teresa & Nollind bragged about how I was never too far away from the horses but never underfoot, able to trot for the 15-30 km without expiring, and not inclined to chase after wildlife. Life was good. And then, in 2011 … Chico came along. 

Chico post-ride. You can see why they were amused.

The first ride out with Chico, I thought it might be his last. He chased after every living thing that moved, especially squirrels, dashing into the woods every time something rustled, squeaked or chirped. I didn’t bother, just stayed with the ride, following along behind the horses, only going off-trail to investigate something of the utmost importance, like a creek, or a spot where another dog had peed. You see, if you want to finish a 20+ km ride and not look like a bag of oatmeal with fur, you need to pace yourself. But anyway, to my surprise, Teresa & Nollind just laughed it off—what a funny dog Chico was, enjoying himself so immensely and exhausting himself in the process.

One of my favourite trails - Station Flats.

The second trail ride with Chico along, he chased after a deer, and I just couldn’t let him go on his own. Off we went into the woods, baying as we ran. Exhilerating! It was awhile before we gave up the chase and awhile longer before we found our way back to the horses. Teresa & Nollind weren’t laughing that time. They gave us a couple more chances but it seemed that each ride there was something to chase and off we’d go. I know, I could have stayed, and Chico might have stayed with me, but I couldn’t resist his enthusiasm. I didn’t want to be the old guy staying back and missing the fun.

A prairie ride last fall - more my speed these days.

And then the day came—it’s a few years ago now—the horses were tacked up, the saddle bags loaded, and we were put in the trailer and left there listening to the sound of hoof beats fade away down the trail. It was a sad day indeed. Admittedly, I find it hard to keep up with horses these days, even at a walk. Their walk is my jog and I just can’t jog for four or five hours straight anymore, in fact a couple of hours across the prairie normally has me limping. So, as angry as I was with Chico for spoiling what was a great gig, he saved me from having to admit defeat and retire in disgrace.

My comfy spot on the bench in the trailer. 

So I’ll just enjoy our “trail days” for what they are, a chance to sniff around a new location, put my feet in a mountain stream and watch out the trailer window as the horses and bikes and hikers come and go. And, lying there on the bench seat, I can dream about the trails I jogged, the many people I met and all the wondrous smells and sights I experienced in those seven years as trail dog extraordinaire.

Trailhead creek visit.

Close Encounter of the Coyote Kind

A reenactment.

Yep, I had a run-in with a coyote. I’ve been chasing them alongside Logan for the four years I’ve been living here and they’ve always outrun us, never allowed us to get very close, until last week. This one came after me, and he was quick, catching me in the back leg with his teeth. I’ve always thought of coyotes as just one more prairie varmint to chase, like gophers or rabbits or deer, harmless creatures that provide good sport. I didn’t really think about coyotes being canine like us, and therefore possessing their own big, sharp teeth and an instinct to fight, or even kill. I got bit in the nose by a gopher once—ouch—but it didn’t compare to the fear I felt when that coyote grabbed my back end.

Dinner with Chris & Sheila (photo compliments of Sheila).

And what did I do? Well, a bigger dog might have stayed to fight, but I ran home, as fast as my short legs would carry me. In fact, I ran so hard, so fast that I felt like I was going to have a heart attack by the time I got back to T and Nollind and their friends who were on the deck having dinner. After gulping down a bowl of water all I could do was lie there and pant, for an hour it seemed. And then, around 11 that night when I’d caught my breath and we were all tucked into bed, my stomach heaved, and then again. I was up four times overnight, T there with me, cleaning up and comforting me. I guess it was all the adrenaline, or maybe the gallon of water, but I couldn’t keep my stomach from lurching until about 4 in the morning.

The bite.

It was while T was petting me that night that she discovered the dried blood on my hip. The next morning when she cleaned things up, there they were, two holes in my upper leg, and we were off to the vet. Usually I see Dr. Julie, but she wasn’t there, so we saw Dr. Taryn. She seemed very nice at first, just as nice as Julie, but then she took me to a back room and put some kind of instrument up inside my wounds to see how deep they were and man that hurt. I couldn’t help but scream my head off. I’m sure the whole clinic heard me, including T who was waiting out by the reception desk. The vet tech took me back to T afterward and, when Dr. Taryn came out with my medications she said, "I don't think Chico loves me anymore." You got that right, lady.

Nollind icing his foot before the drilling.

Crazy thing was, while T and I were in town at the vet, Nollind got hurt when a horse stepped down hard on his foot. But, he was lucky, he didn't have to see a vet, all he had to do was drill a hole in his toenail and most of the pain just went away...after the blood gushed out. Nasty.

A few days later, and a better way to spend an evening.

My wounds have mostly healed now and I had my last dose of antibiotics this morning. There was coyote scent along the canal on Friday and I couldn’t help but get excited along with Logan. We were on leashes with no opportunity for a chase so I can’t say for sure if I would have or not. T says she hopes I learned my lesson, but I’m not sure I understand. People seem to regularly repeat things that cause them pain or distress so, in my quest to be human, I’m not sure I can turn away.