Hiking with Dogs

I spent part of my Thanksgiving going on a hike with Buddy & Rigs. As soon as I grab the leashes, or say the word “hike”, they know it’s on. Usually I’ll tell them 30 minutes or more in advance of our departure so I can selfishly enjoy their uncontained excitement as they prance around, wag their tails, try in every dogly way to get me to leave at that exact second, and whine and cry and look at me with excited and hopeful eyes.

After I open the back of my SUV, Buddy hops in easily, and Rigs, in his old age, has completely given up hope of ever again being agile enough to hop in himself, so I have to deadlift him and plop him in there myself. I always tell him he’s a fat, pathetic piece of sh*t right after, but in a nice voice so he thinks I’m saying something nice.

On the way to the mountain, since they can’t control their excitement, they stand up in the back, heads over the back seats, and they huff and puff their disgusting breath seemingly directly into my nostrils.

When we get there, I leash them, walk them to the point at which they no longer need to be leashed (away from roads), and finally they can be free. Each time I undo their shackles, it’s like they’re reborn. They sprint away from me with no destination in mind, but just for the sake of sprinting. Since they’re old, the sprint only lasts about four seconds, but their joy lasts the entire time.

It’s a beautiful thing to watch these two creatures running through the grass and the woods freely, sniffing anything that catches their attention, pissing and sh*tting wherever it strikes their fancy. Many times I have found myself jealous of their freedom of expression excretion.

I enjoy hiking itself, but it’s not something that really excites me in the way golf or fishing or sex do. I see it as an opportunity to enjoy the beautiful outdoors, see beautiful, natural things, enjoy the scenery from the tops of mountains, and breathe in the fresh air. However, when I watch my dogs on my hikes, they are excitement incarnate. Everything fascinates them, everything is amazing and unbelievable, every scent is something new and awesome, and they have no way of hiding their enthusiasm. Nor should they.

We can learn a lot from dogs. Maybe they’re right – we should be really, really f*cking excited about the simple things like just being outside, or seeing a tree and pissing on it, or smelling a new piece of sh*t (substitute whatever you want for “sh*t”). Imagine how much better life would be if we were legitimately excited by the things we are able to see and experience every day, like walking down the sidewalk and seeing a house or a building.

Lately I’ve been trying not to take anything for granted, and to notice things I never noticed before. When I see an office building, I marvel at the imagination, the planning and preparation, and the sheer willpower it took to create such a thing. I marvel at the way the pigeons interact, and how they make sharp turns mid-flight, spontaneously and unanimously. I marvel at how a lone pine tree was able to grow and prosper in the crack of a solid boulder in the middle of the woods, how that boulder even came to be there, how long it has been there, and everything it has witnessed over the years. I marvel at how the sun can warm my skin, brighten my mood, and provide the basis for all life on this planet, from 92,960,000 miles away.

It’s impossible not to take anything for granted. To do so would be to become an ineffective human. However, the fewer things we take for granted, the easier it is to enjoy life and achieve a default state of joy and happiness. Maybe one day we’ll be so lucky as to achieve the state of enlightenment of Buddy & Rigs, and seemingly mundane things will make us smile.