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Ah, Virginia. State of gently graded treadway, switchbacks, spectacular views, and...cows! I go insane over cows. I was really in heaven with all the pastureland we went through, especially Grayson Highlands State Park with its wild ponies. When we started in March, it was still cold. We had lots of rain and even an ice storm in Shenandoah National Park, but I wasn't concerned because there were so many deer to hold my interest. My folks kept me leashed virtually the entire time, which is the rule there, so that I wouldn't chase them. Now, I've been on the trail long enough to know that if I waste time trying to chase something I will never be able to catch, I will lose track of my parents. Since my number one mission is to keep the team together, I can't let that happen. So even when I'm off leash, if I see a deer, the most I will do is make a show of running a few feet off the treadway, then give a frustrated little cry, and give up. When it wasn't cold, it was blistering hot, and without leaves on the trees, that got pretty uncomfortable for me because my hair is black. One day I pooped out, dug in the dirt next to a nice cool boulder and lay down. Momma and Daddy had the good sense to join me--in the only bit of shade to be found anywhere--behind the rock I had found, and we rested for a while. Now that it is really hot all the time, we don't hike from about noon till three. And even then, we take it really easy. Momma rigged a bandanna so I can wear it like a dress, soaking wet, for traverses of areas with no shade. Dogs die from overheating on this trail every year. It is not something to take lightly. Momma got an electric clipper and an instructional video so she can keep me shorn without shelling out grooming fees. Daddy mails the clippers ahead to wherever we're going to be in several weeks so Momma can clip me again. She does a pretty good Schnauzer cut, at least on my face. Every other part of my body is really short because my furnishings (leg hair) were like velcro and attracted every burr out in the brush! We have been seeing tons of people and dogs. Thru-hiker season is upon us, and with the crowds come increasing pressure and scrutiny. We dogs have to keep up with our people and trust them to feed, water and care for us properly. We also need them to discipline us and observe trail and town etiquette. As you can imagine, there are hikers who are not responsible dog owners, and they ruin things for the rest of us. These folks allow their dogs to soil hiker hostels, motels and even shuttle vans, causing dogs to be banned forever or, at the very least, making the proprietors add hefty surcharges to the bill for all future dogs. Go to any A.T.-related website and you will see rants about badly-behaved dogs: "So, please realize folks, your lovely, cute dogs are not lovely or cute to everyone else. Your dogs that pee on packs, scamper across sleeping bags, steal food, crap on the trail, harass wildlife, bark incessantly, jump up, sniff crotches, drip, slobber, lick, drool, fart and generally annoy people are not welcome. Leave them at home." So reads one posting on an A.T. site. Now, don't take this personally. Only people should take things personally. Like the woman who feeds her emaciated Husky minute-rice if she feeds it at all, and was very disagreeable to anyone who expressed concern for her dog's welfare. Or the man who loads up his dog's pack with more than dog supplies, adding whatever he doesn't feel like carrying. Or hikers who adopt four-month old stray puppies that wander onto the trail and take them along on their thru-hikes, doing 20+ miles a day over rugged terrain. Every example of human stupidity and inconsiderateness exists on the trail, just as in the "real world." It's just that everything is magnified on the trail because of the close quarters--when passing people on the trail, at shelters, etc. Generally, the A.T. is a dog-friendly place. I have had trail magic from a dog lover who gave me delicious dog treats, been allowed in restaurants, and stayed with people in shelters and hostels without incident. At Bears Den Hostel, there is a special doggy water bowl outside just for us. I have to give credit to my folks. They went through obedience class with me before the hike, did a lot of research about dogs on the trail, consulted vets about taking such a small dog hiking, and really took my care seriously. And, although they want me to have fun, they also respect the right of other people to enjoy the trail without me impacting their experience (beyond seeing me on the trail, which alone is too much for some folks because they either hate dogs or think I'm too small!). Momma and Daddy clip the leash on me whenever we see someone approaching, or when we take a break, or when we're at a shelter or hostel. Then, when they are positive people don't mind me running loose, they let me go. Just as people assume the worst about you, you must treat every hiker as a potential dog-hater. This means being on your best behavior (which is where your humans come in) until you are sure you are welcome. As a dog, you are guilty until proven innocent. It's a bit of a shock to those who think of the A.T. as a giant, free dog park, but it makes sense if you think about it. This is where these hikers live--in the woods. You have to respect their home. "Trail Days," held in Damascus in May, was stressful for me. Momma took me to the town park to see the "Pet Vet," Dr. John Roberts of the VCA Highlands Animal Hospital in Abingdon, which is nearby Damascus. He grew up in Damascus, and when Appalachian Trail Days started 15 years ago, he got interested and eventually started volunteering his services to check out the hiking dogs. He says most of them are in good shape because they are so active. Dr. John is a perfectly nice person, but he got familiar with me too quickly. After Momma asked him if I was too fat, he poked all around on my belly, and I bit him, I was so offended. He said I need to lose half a pound, because mini-Schnauzers get back problems from being too heavy. I guess Momma has to stop trying to show her love through food! On the plus side, Dr. John said my pads are in the best shape he's ever seen on a trail dog. I have Bag Balm to thank for that. Momma or Daddy put it on my pads every night. We gave a talk at Trail Days entitled "Hiking with a Small Dog. Apparently my role was to be the comic relief: I demonstrated my pet pouch, clothes and doggy accessories to the great amusement of the audience. It was acutely embarassing. There were plenty of dogs all weekend, which is normally exciting for me, but these were hiking dogs. Most of the trail dogs I meet are way too tired to play or even enjoy meeting other dogs, especially hyper little me. Plus, most of their owners have an attitude about small dogs. I learned that I am what is known as a "DKP" (Drop-Kick Puppy). Humph! I finally met a thru-hiking dog my own size named Bella--a Jack Russell terrier who is doing so many miles every day that all she wants to do is sleep (but that's typical of trail dogs). Her biggest day so far was 24 miles. Actually, I have a secret to confess. I did 25 the last day of Virginia! This was very unusual for us. It actually took us three months to hike the whole state because we only average 10 miles a day (and we took some breaks for "real life" obligations). But for some reason my parents ran out of food and patience and wanted to go from Mount Rogers to Damascus in one day. Daddy had to carry me for two of the 27 miles during the hottest part of the day. But I did really well, and they made sure I had plenty of water. When we got to town, though, I refused to walk another step, and climbed into my pet pouch (after scarfing down a nice can of wet food Momma got me, of course. I looked like a little whale!). Then we took a week off so they could write their newsletter, so we all got plenty of rest. Momma promised me we would never do that again. It was not fun for any of us! |
Katrina Aid
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Copyright 1996-2005 Jim Greenway Questions? Suggestions? Broken Links? Let me know. SARTECH I(tm), SARTECH II(tm) & SARTECH IiI(tm) are all trademarks of the National Association for Search and Rescue (NASAR)
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