Odd neighborhood
We arrived in "the springs" and began looking for somewhere to rent. I wanted to stay on the west side of town for easier access to the mountains. Manitou Springs is the western edge of the springs so I started there. I drove around the tourist trap of a town and, although quaint, I was told the summer is a nightmare due to very limited entrance/exit routes. I found a tiny cottage that was in my very low price range but decided to drive around a little more. On the way out of Manitou, I missed my exit and ended up driving through another quaint little touristy looking area called Old Colorado City. It was the first part of Colorado Springs after exiting Manitou Springs. Wandering aimlessly, I drove past a "For Rent" sign in one of the neighborhoods and called the number. The owner informed me that the door to the tiny little apartment was unlocked. "That's stupid," I thought to myself. It was small...like 350 sq ft small. I wasn't convinced so I decided to take the cottage in Manitou. I figured I could deal with the traffic and the location was right next to a wooded area that appeared to have great dog-walking potential.
In the couple of hours that I had been exploring, the cottage had been rented - so I was told when I called. So, I doubled back to Old Colorado City and accepted "plan b". After returning to Fort Collins, I loaded up the small numbering of belongings that we owned and we moved into a tiny space that ended up being our home for much longer than I anticipated.
 |
January 2009, First photo in another new place.
Vermijo Park, a place we walked through thousands of times after this.
|
Even though we didn't own much, the immediate challenge was fitting things into our new tiny space. Perhaps the only saving grace for this tiny apartment was the patio area, which was almost as large as the apartment. This was important. Even if I couldn't afford a yard or decent living space, I wanted an outdoor area where Lexie could spend some time, safely. At least she wouldn't be shut inside such a small space, all of the time. She could see the sky, smell the breeze, and hear sounds of life while, undoubtedly, I would be working as much as I could so we had luxuries like...food. I tried to convince myself that it was okay but, in the back of my mind, I knew we lived in a crappy shoe box, located in a sketchy piece of town. I had lived in worse but it made me sad that I was subjecting my best friend to life that was stripped to bare essentials and no net. It couldn't be helped and Lexie didn't seem to notice.
In order to finance the relocation, I had sold my mountain bike. But, that did nothing more than get us through a door. Lexie had food, we had one month of rent paid, one month of utilities and that was all. Broke again, the new plan was the old plan so I sold my road bicycle to handle a month of expenses. Fortunately, I found a job relatively quickly. The timing should work out so when next month's bills rolled in, it should correspond to my first check. We were dancing on a wire but since options were not to be had, we just continued day to day.
And, we had a new neighborhood to explore. We started our first day, just like every other day: we walked. Very nearby, we had a decent little park. Surrounded on three sides by houses and street, the park's fourth side angled down a hill to a small creek. This seemed great until I found out the creek was polluted and the trail that ran alongside the creek was a meeting place for local drug deals when it wasn't inhabited by the makeshift shelters of homeless folk. But, the park was convenient and often had a new dog friend for Lexie to meet. The opposite direction provided another park. In the very middle of Old Colorado City's commercial strip of shops, there was yet another park. So, even though we often changed our route for variety, the "normal" walk-loop would afford three off-leash places for Lexie to explore, sniff, and essentially be a dog. There would be many days when the walk was entirely off-leash, since Lex was so good on her own and I don't care much for rules, much to the chagrin of an assortment of people we passed. The usual walk was 45-60 minutes, twice a day. Unknown to either of us at the time, each park would bring some pretty dodgy moments over the years. At the time, ignorance proved blissful so the new guy and his big black dog quickly became a frequent sighting in Old Colorado City.
 |
Lexie's perpetually serious expression, looking through the screen door.
This was soon after moving to Colorado Springs.
|
I'm pretty sure I remember Christmas eve, 2008, before we left northern CO for southern CO. Colorado State University was on their Christmas break so the campus was almost deserted. Those were the best times to wander around the school grounds with my dog. But, the day before Christmas, as we walked between beautiful old buildings, a thought popped into my brain, "how long has it been since I've actually talked to someone?" It wasn't humorous or trite but actually reflected Lexie and I's current state of existence. Obviously, there were casual platitudes within social encounters at stores or parks. But, I couldn't remember the last time I had any kind of meaningful interaction with another human. Life had been defined by the adventures that I shared with Lexie. Everything else held little significance. As she happily explored the campus, I stared down at my legs with the odd sensation that instead of walking across the top of the ground, I was trying to pull the planet underneath my feet. That was the final confirmation that we needed to leave Fort Collins.
Now, in Colorado Springs, Lexie and I had an entire new canvas to paint. One of the first areas that we visited was Stratton Open Space. It was a relatively scenic area that was easily accessible and provided the added benefit of a reservoir where dogs could play. But, in the middle of winter, the reservoir was closed so we simply wandered around some of the trails and played in the snow. Any place with snow was fun for Lexie. If it was fun for Lexie, it was fun for me. Even in Colorado, outdoor spaces are dramatically less populated when it's winter and temperatures drop. Places that are packed like roofing shingles in the summer are relatively empty if the conditions are not comfortable. Most folks spend their lives avoiding discomfort. This was fine for Lexie and I, we went anyway. I cannot think of an instance when weather stopped us from our daily walks or our longer adventures. My process consisted of opening the door and asking, "Lexie, want to go for a walk/hike/swim?" I do not remember a single instance when she wasn't on her feet and headed out the door. Thunder was the only thing that kept Lexie from going outside and the only weather-related thing that scared her. I figured, if she was willing to go out regardless of temperature, rain, snow, wind etc....so was I. I just needed to be vigilant so my dog's toughness didn't put us into any carelessly dangerous situations. When we did go, I had to pay extra attention so she didn't injure herself. In a few instances, that meant we had to cut a hike short but it was few and far between. That first visit to Stratton Open Space was a simple exploration. Over the years, we would make some very good memories within those 300+ acres. A day in the distant future, it provided setting for one of the best moments of my life. But, that's a long ways down the road so we'll get to it later.
One, of many, benefits to having a dog is the immediate common ground that is shared with the majority of other dog owners. So, conversation starting is easy and dog-related information is usually pretty easy to obtain. One of my neighbors told me about Red Rock Canyon Open Space that was practically walking distance from our apartment. It is a very pretty area that Lexie and I visited numerous times. However, it wasn't especially high on the destination list even though it was so convenient. Much of Red Rock park is exposed so it can get very hot in the summer especially for a big black dog. This was more significant because it has only one water source, which was often covered in green scum. So, I didn't really trust it for Lexie to drink and it was quite a challenge to keep a 90 pound, hot dog from jumping into the little pond. Actually, that isn't true. All I had to do was say, "Lexie, no" and she would stay out of the water. But, the torment on her face was too much for me to handle. Even though she would drink water from my day pack, I felt like a dog as big as Lexie needed a better water source when we hiked, especially when it was hot. She loved laying in water to cool off and the putrid little pond at Red Rock didn't provide that option. Like I said, I was responsible for protecting my best friend, who could be too tough for her own good.
 |
I've always loved this image because it represents so much of Lexie and I...dirt, rocks, Lexie's big paws, beat up shoes...this was our walk and our life.
|
 |
| I'm a sucker for tree tunnels |
 |
Red Rock Open Space 02/09
|
Where's Waldo
When I had visited Colorado Springs around 1998-1999, one of the places I visited was Waldo Canyon so I could go for a hike. It was a lollipop-shaped, 7 mile hike that was heavily recommended by some locals. At that time, I thought it was an okay hike but nothing truly special. When I moved to town in 2009, it was really the only trail that I knew. So, Lexie and I hiked it twice but, similar to Red Rock Open Space, it wasn't high on our list. Many of the reasons were the same: exposure, hot, lack of water. Also, being very close to town, it was very popular. There really isn't any trail variations so the first two miles of the trail prior to splitting into a loop, it was often extremely busy. The trailhead parking was a nightmare, as well. But, this was still winter time so the parking was abundant, it was cold outside, and I didn't expect to see many hikers. It ended up being a really nice day for us. I would sprint away from Lexie while she excitedly chased me down the trail. The view of Pikes Peak was spectacular. We even found some snow in the wooded 1st half of the trail. It was a good way to begin our actual hiking lives around Colorado Springs. The next Waldo journey would be considerably different.
The last time we ever did Waldo Canyon, it was a really bad experience. While hiking in the first two miles, I let Lexie off her leash, like always. As we met some people hiking out, one lady came around the corner and nearly jumped off trail when she saw Lexie. As she passed, she grouced, "Geez, I thought it was a bear...mumble, mumble." Granted, I understand the rule of dog leads while on trail and the reasons for those rules. However, I choose not to follow that rule. Likely, I never will. I knew Lexie posed zero threat to any person or animal that she encountered. I choose to let my dog have as much freedom as possible to enjoy their life by being a dog. Yes, I consider my dog's freedom more important than a stranger's momentary discomfort. But much more important, this particular day ended up being very, very hot. Going clockwise, the 2nd half of the hike is exposed and the heat affected Lexie. Again, at that age, she was a stud hiker and nothing seemed to slow her down. But, by the time we reached the last two miles to get out, she began stopping and laying down in the mottled shade of tiny scrub oaks. I had plenty of water and she would drink a little but when she stopped and laid down, it scared me to my core. Even though we never hiked fast, it was obvious that she was over-heated as she laid there and panted heavily - trying to cool down. I was trying to poor some water onto her stomach and paws, trying to help any way I could. Another hiker even noticed my concern. He stopped to ask, "Is she okay? Do you need some water?" I let him know that I had a lot of water, "she has never done this before," I lied. All I could think about was the time she stopped and laid down when she was 1 year old and I took her running in mid-day, extremely high temperature. That time was sheer ignorance on my part, this time I was afraid I had made the same mistake by simply underestimating our hike. I was furious with myself and scared. She wouldn't let me carry her. So, we just took our time going from tiny, shady spot to shady spot, eventually making our way out. I vowed that I would never go back to Waldo Canyon and I have kept that promise. I didn't especially like the trail anyway so having a bad memory attached to it makes it completely unappealing, even now. As a side-note: in 2012, a fire swept through Waldo Canyon and 18,000 acres of land along the western border of Colorado Springs. This particular trail has never re-opened, as of the time of this writing.
 |
Pikes Peak, from Waldo canyon trail
|
 |
Our fun hike in Waldo Canyon trail 03/09
Lexie waiting for me to catch up, like usual. |
When a person is broke and hungry but lives two blocks away from a street full of eating establishments, it is not only painful but often sears itself in to memorable reference points. Example: on one of our evening walks, I remember we just passed a local bbq restaurant in Old Colorado City. Approaching us was a gentlemen with a dog. So, as is often the case, we both stopped and let our dogs meet. During the exchange, he mentioned a nearby dog park. So, I asked for directions and made a note to find it soon.
In Fort Collins, we occasionally visited a dog park and I felt it was very good for Lexie's socialization skills. Plus, I loved meeting all the other dogs.
Over the years in Colorado Springs, we spent a great deal of time at the Bear Creek Dog Park. Lexie made a few friends, mostly people with treats. She could spot them from opposite side of the 25 acre park. When she saw them, she would sprint a directly straight line to them, sit down at their feet, and give them the giant puppy eyes. It was one of the few times she ignored any of my attempts to stop her. I met some extremely nice people there. I almost got bit by a few dogs. Lexie got attacked once. I helped find lost dogs and had people help me find a lost Lexie once. For one long period of time, we were there every morning. For another long period, we were there every night. I watched Lexie break through top layers of ice so she could lay in the cold water beneath. Dogs, left behind by worthless people, I took to the Humane Society. There was a lot of time that Lexie spent laying in the creek. I took more photos at the dog park than probably anywhere else in my life. There were multiple times hearing coyotes howl in the nearby hills and one coyote sighting, ten feet behind Lexie. I'm sure a number of those details will make their way into this life story. But, Bear Creek is one of the places that will require it's own chapter.
Little things
As mentioned, we didn't have a lot of room in the new living space. We didn't have many luxuries either. One of the lessons that animals often teach by example: Be satisfied with the simple things in life. Lexie was content and happy as long as we walked, explored, and ate. I've tried to remember this lesson. However, I always wanted her to have a better life, with more than basic essentials. Up to this point in her life, Lexie didn't have a dog bed. As a tiny puppy she used an old towel that had been shared with her siblings. Entirely her own discovery, she then climbed into my laundry basket to sleep away her nights. When she out grew the laundry basket, she used piled up old blankets for the majority of her early years. It was the best I could do for her. So, it was a big deal when I bought her a cheap "dog bed." It was nothing more than a bag filled with foam scraps but I felt like I was trying to make things better for my best friend. When it arrived, Lex blankly stared at my excitement. It was her normal look of condescension, like I was a simpleton. Almost every time, I smiled at being looked down upon. Regardless of the situation and no matter how idiotic Lexie considered my actions, she would always humor me. It was almost like the dog patting the boy on his head and saying, "Who's a good boy?!" So, tentatively, Lexie padded this new, giant pillow looking thing and eventually climbed on top. I was most pleased.
This cheap bed became a long tenured, well used item. Down the road, when I could afford better dog beds that provided more "bells and whistles," that old blue bed was used for the patio bed. It lasted through constant sun, pouring rain, and countless snow storms. Thinking back, it may have been the bed that held my best friend more than any other during her life. Not only her - it was also used by many stray cats that would hang out with Lexie. At night, they would assume ownership. I'm sure it was tread upon by numerous raccoons, skunk, squirrels, and who knows what else.
But, mostly, it was my best friend's first bed so it was important.
 |
The giant blue marshmallow. Lexie almost audibly thinking,
"You're such a dork."
Roto tillerWhen she was a pup, Lex quickly found that soft elements could be moved with her front paws and strong shoulders. After water fell from the sky, in the form of rain or snow, she discovered the joy that is digging in the earth. I've never quite understood a dog's fascination with digging. I suppose it involving eating, like most things canine. But for a dog built on two breeds of retriever, it made little sense to me. Maybe it was a Hillary/Everest thing. Whether it was the smallish paws of a puppy or the increasing circumference of a growing dog, Lexie's webbed paws could move an impressive amount of dirt. While living at my Mother's in Missouri, I was constantly trying to fill up the various holes that my buddy created during the times when I was in school or work. Even though my Mom never went into her backyard for anything, I knew she would not approve of the new landscaping being created by the ever growing big, black dog since she didn't particularly care for Lexie anyway. So, each morning, I would spend approximately an hour picking up waste and filling up new dig spots.
When we left for Colorado, we never really had a yard for Lexie to dig in regularly. So, when we were hiking or walking in the many locations that we used for variations, if she found a spot where she wanted to dig, I would let her go to work. As almost any dog owner knows, the sheer focus and obsession with which a dog will throw themselves into digging is pretty impressive. Often, it became pretty dull for me but Lexie was completely entertained. One such place was a field that was located next to the dog park. We often walked this field because it was often empty. On occasion, Lexie found those spots that need to be transformed from smooth into pocked and tunneled.
Chasing a subterranean threat, evidently
|
Desperate for employment, I accepted any job that was offered. The first such opportunity was with a Durable Medical Equipment company. Essentially, this job consisted of delivering oxygen tanks and machines to residential patients, primarily. At the time, GPS was as proliferate as it is now. Considering I was brand new to town, finding addresses proved to be quite a challenge. The added pressure of knowing there were unwell people waiting on their delivery only added to the anxiety. Long story short, I was pretty terrible at it. Eventually, I hated the job more than almost any other but for the time being, it meant Lexie and I could eat food and remain sheltered in our tiny apartment. So, I was grateful and tried hard.
While the corporate headquarter managers were the very definition of pretentious, self-important pukes, I truly enjoyed all of my co-workers in our local office. One of the office workers was a very kind woman from Minnesota or Wisconsin...one of those frozen mid-northern states. Interesting side-note: she was the only survivor of her family from the 1978 Johnstown massacre in Guyana. However, our friendship, like most in my life, centered around dogs. She had a young Husky mix named Bella and her adult daughter had a Yorkie named Ollie. Somewhere in our conversations, she asked if I would dog sit for a weekend. I decided to give it a try even though I hadn't really tried to take care of any other dogs except for taking Maggie and Lexie to play in the water. But, Lexie was completely accommodating and I like dogs so I thought I'd give it a try. My only experience with any huskies was pretty limited. I picked up, off the street, the same husky three times in Fort Collins and returning him to his stupid owner. Then there was Frankie from Fort Collins, the bossy and very conversational husky that often shared our morning walks. The day I left Fort Collins, I picked up another stray husky that I delivered to a no-kill shelter in Loveland, CO as I was driving out of town. A Yorkshire Terrier would be completely new.
As I was readying to leave, my co-worker says, "Sorry if Bella vomits in your car. She throws up almost every time she is in a car." Neat, I thought. But, off we headed to my tiny apartment with approximately 150 pounds of dog in the back of my Jeep. I drove the 20 minutes back to my abode. There was no vomiting and all three dogs made the journey with no issue.
I simply incorporated Bella and Ollie into our routine and both were well behaved. That said, walking three dogs instead of one exceptionally well trained walker was...a challenge. The newbies were obviously not accustomed to walking so it was a bit of a Three Stooges sketch. Ollie, the 10 pound tiny immediately took the alpha role and lead everyone down the sidewalk. This would have been fine except he also bounced back and forth across the sidewalk like a windshield wiper. Lexie simply adjusted onto the grass and strolled like normal. The other two dog leads were a constant battle of tangles but we eventually figured out some kind of system and made our way. It was amusing chaos. I loved watching all three dogs run and play in the park. Again, Ollie dictated everything. He would run full speed toward Lexie and launch himself right past the teeth of a dog that was easily 80 pounds his superior. Even though Lex wasn't the most social, playtime dog, she seemed to enjoy this little interloper and they would wrestle and run together. Bella was actually more subdued than I expected but ran and played with the free, joyful husky freedom. One of my favorite dog memories though was when I called, "Ollie, come!" He would run at full speed at me and jump from about 8 feet away, expecting me to catch him at chest level. The unbridled happiness of the activity simply made my soul smile. It turns out Yorkshire Terriers are amazing and comical little dogs. I was won over by a dog named Oliver.
When it was bedtime, Lexie laid in her bed. Bella took a spot on the floor. I learned a new lesson. Ollie jumped straight onto the bed. I was still convinced that dogs stayed off the furniture so I placed him gently on the floor. His feet stayed there for .0000345 seconds as he seemed to bounce back onto the bed. This effort was repeated 6-8 times. Ollie was not even considering the option of sleeping anywhere except the bed. Soundly defeated, I accepted the arrangement. Soon after, Bella jumped onto the bed. Lexie even walked to the side of the bed that she had never been on and said, "What the hell, man?!" So, I replied, "Alright, come on." And that's how we slept each night. Even though it was uncomfortable for me, I was surprised at how much I enjoyed it.
Scare
The second day proceeded without incident, until darkness fell. Prior to going to bed, I always took Lexie for one more park visit to handle any business before sleeping. It was late so we visited that same little park where all the play time had transpired. This was the park we crossed most often and one that I knew well. I knew all the normal sounds, all the neighborhood dogs, and all the stray cats. As all three dogs sniffed out the perfect spots, off leash,
I saw a shadowy streak running full speed across the park. It was a stray pitbull. My immediate thought was Ollie. I hoped Lexie was big enough to stand her ground and hoped Bella could outrun a threat. Terror crossed my mind as I frantically tried to find a glimpse of the little brown/black dog in the darkness. I knew he wouldn't survive for more than a few seconds if I couldn't get to him before the pit. I wasn't going to make it and my brain died at the thought of allowing a dog in my care to get attacked. Then, thank God, the pitbull simply turned at full speed into a large circle and kneeled down in that classic "let's play" dog pose. By then, I had reached Ollie and scooped him off the ground. I walked slowly toward Bella, then Lexie and clipped them into their leads. I carried Ollie and headed back to the apartment.
The wagging pitbull followed us across the park as I quietly told her, "Good girl, that's a good girl." I put all three dogs in the apartment, grabbed my keys, and headed back to the park with a leash. There she was, still sniffing around. I called to her and she trotted pleasantly back to me for pets. I made a slip lead and slipped it around her thick muscled neck. She casually walked with me back to my car. I opened the back and motioned for her to jump up. She did. She sat quietly in the back of my Jeep while I petted her. She was an absolute cupcake. If I didn't already have three dogs in a tiny apartment, I would have kept her overnight and tried to find a good solution, the next day.
But, instead, I called the Humane Society and asked about dropping off a stray after-hours. They instructed me on the process and promised someone was there and would supply food and water. When I got there, I became less confident that I was told the truth as the place looked deserted. I found the kennel where I was to leave the stray. I called again, gave them the kennel number, and expressed my concern about leaving her while reinforcing how gentle and sweet this dog was. The voice reassured me that someone would take care of her with food and water and she would be processed in the morning. I didn't have any extra food so I took some cheap treats out of my car and placed them in with the pretty, brown pitbull. Closing that door crushed me while those big, trusting eyes stared at me with questions on her face. I prayed for her to be taken care of drove back to my responsibilities. I was too afraid to visit the next day in fear that I wouldn't find her. Over the years, many, many times, I have wondered if she was okay and if she was adopted. There is no way to know the answer. It still bothers me and I wish I could have done better.
 |
| Ollie was always near Lexie. I loved it. She would never admit it, but I think Lexie truly enjoyed that little dog and his close proximity tendencies. |
 |
| Bella really enjoying her exploring. I'm not sure how much she had gotten to freely wander, at this point in her life. |
 |
| Ollie with some flowers. I'm not sure why his teeth look like they're glowing. |
 |
| Teamwork makes the dream work...I guess |
 |
| Bella, just relaxing and hording toys |
 |
| Formidable dog in a little body |
 |
| Ollie's noble face |
 |
| Stray that I found as I was leaving Fort Collins |
 |
| Stray Pitbull with that great pibble smile. She was so sweet. I only hope she found a great home. |
Something new
After moving to Colorado Springs and stabilizing my life enough that we had food and shelter, I thought I should find some way of being around dogs more often. I started the process of looking for a place to volunteer. I hadn't done a lot of volunteer work so I started with a basic search. I found a place called National Mill Dog Rescue. As it sounds, they focus on rescuing dogs from the organized breeding who breed dogs incorrectly and only focused on making a profit (i.e. "dog mills). After reading the story that started the whole thing, I was pretty sure I couldn't volunteer there. It sounded heartbreaking. But, I thought I would call and ask a few questions. Literally, I told them, "I doubt if I can volunteer more than once but I'll try. I may just cry like a little girl." "That's no problem, some strong men cry the first time they come out but they usually come back," she replied. I wasn't reassured but off I went on my next Saturday off work. It was 45 minutes from where I lived and in the middle of nowhere.
I volunteered for approximately two years. Everyone I met seemed uniquely focused on taking care of the dogs that came into the shelter. Certainly, there were some tears at the cruelty that humans can inflict on innocent lives. But, there were more smiles and an absolute education on the resiliency of the spirit that lives in canine bodies. I could write hours of stories of the chihuahua who melted me, Dublin - the silent boxer, Tahara - the GSD playmate, Blanca - the Pyr who ended up living in my neighborhood, a 3-legged weimaraner, the tiny poodle who bit me a lot .... and Chance - the king of the kennel (who almost became my second dog). Or the hundreds of others that passed through the shelter. The overwhelming truth that I learned there was the satisfaction of knowing I was a tiny factor in the process of helping these lives find better lives. That satisfaction, and the joy they brought, completely surpassed the sad moments.
One time I knew I would be at the shelter for a while so I brought Lexie with me. There were large fenced areas outside where she could enjoy the predicted beautiful weather and remote location. My primary responsibility was cleaning out the kennels in the morning. For a population of dogs who never had any training of any kind and usually very bad nutrition/health, prior to being rescued, it wasn't a glamourous job but needed to be done. Afterward, I would often spend a little time petting or playing with a few dogs. I walked Lexie to the nearest enclosure, filled up a big water bowl for her, and left a couple of toys, in case she decided to play with them. I kissed her on the head and told her, "I'll be back in a little bit." Then, something extremely strange happened.
I began walking away and Lexie began jumping on the gate for the enclosure and yelping loudly. She never ever did anything like that before or since. Lex was a very confident, independent dog and she was accustomed to spending time alone. For one of the few times in her life, she looked legitimately afraid. I'm not sure if it was the sounds of the kennel, the new location, or something I couldn't see but her big, fearful eyes told me that she thought I was leaving her. It crushed me inside. I walked back and spent some time with her, trying to let her know that I would be right back. She seemed to settle down and I made frequent trips to see her. That was good enough for her to calm down and I finished my tasks for the day. It was the only time I took Lexie to the kennel. I never wanted her to feel that way again.
 |
| Fred, look contemplative |
 |
| Some dogs often took a little time to realize their life was on the road to something much better |
 |
| Others bounced into happiness almost immediately, regardless of their previous life. It was very impressive to watch. |
 |
| Others found comfort with their friends. Here is a puppy pile of Cavaliers. |
 |
| Puppies were a rarity. This one was especially cute. |
 |
| Chance. His story was tough but he quickly adjusted to the attention of being a kennel favorite and dubbed, "King of the Kennel" |
 |
| Dublin. His calm demeanor would never hint at his heartbreaking pre-story. But, he was a noble boy who found his forever home and the great life he deserved. |
 |
| Blanca. I got to see her pretty often after she was adopted to a home in my neighborhood. She eventually fluffed up to true Pyrenees form. When I started volunteering, Blanca strolled the kennel freely. It was a unique privilege. |
 |
English bulldog puppy. Needless to say, she
got a lot of well deserved attention. |
 |
| Tahara. As a 1 year old, she struggled with confinement so I always tried to take her out to play. She loved this horse toy. She almost bit me during one play session but caught herself in time, thankfully. |
Bear Creek Dog Park
I'm unsure how to begin talking about the dog park. There are so many stories that inclusion/exclusion is the biggest challenge. During Lexie's life, the dog park was an integral piece of our days for large periods of time. During other periods, we would avoid the dog park. This was due, in large part, to Lexie's ambivalence toward the dog park. She wasn't anti-social but she rarely exhibited a desire to interact with other dogs. Obviously, this wasn't absolute. There were days she would run and wrestle with other dogs, it just wasn't her modus operandi. Typically, she would wander the high grass and more remote areas of the 25 acre park. However, I loved seeing the wide variety of dogs and made several casual friendships while walking the various trails, our dogs roaming or playing in the creek that runs through the south end of the park.
Lexie loses a fight
One early morning, Lexie and I walked in the brightening dawn light. There were few others there during that time of the morning except two women I noticed who often walked together, surrounded by three dogs. This particular morning, our paths approached as Lexie was quite a distance in front of me. Quite often during her life, when dogs met Lexie nose to nose, after a few seconds, they would snap at her. I still do not understand why as I never saw Lex even flinch and she never growled. Maybe she sent some message that only dogs pick up but it was something I always made sure to monitor. One of the approaching dogs was even larger than Lexie so I was watching when they approached each other. The other dog not only snapped at Lexie but attacked her. By the time I sprinted there, I could see the other dog had her down by the throat. The two women didn't even seem to react as I screamed, "Get your fucking dog off my dog!" The dog's owner blubbered out her dog's name followed by a weak, "oh my god." I was reaching down to grab this dog by the collar and tail which I planned to use in throwing it as far as I could manage in an adrenaline fueled rage. The dog released Lexie and hopped away. Lex scrambled to her feet as I inspected her for damage. Fortunately, there was nothing but a lot of slobber and wet fur. Still, the dog's owner didn't display quite the remorse that I needed as she apologized meekly. We walked our separate ways. During subsequent days, I made sure to walk warily around her still growly dog. Since we were all there at the same time each day, I decided to try and prevent any future reenactments and asked her to bring her dog over to meet Lexie. After a proper introduction, they became good friends and the three of us walked together each morning for more than a year, I would guess. The other lady was a photography professor at a local college. Her dog was named Petey. She would also play a role, following one of the worst days of my life.
 |
| Petey, at Bear Creek Dog Park. This was the only photo I got to take of this playful, kind dog. |
Broken
During a normal work day, I was, once again, rushing to make oxygen deliveries. This constant pressure to get to patient's homes or to a hospital resulted in a perpetual state of exhausted stress. I increasingly abhorred that job with every day that I worked. I was headed to a regular patient's home when I saw a streak of brown and black sprinting toward my work truck. Panicked, I felt the tires hit the tiny miniature pinscher that attacked the wheel. In my mirror, I saw it laying in the street as I immediately pulled to the side. Everything else disappeared around me as I knelt down in the middle of the road and gently touched him. He reacted briefly then his head laid down and I watched his life leave as blood pooled below his head. Something inside me snapped and I fell completely apart in the middle of that residential street. Audibly crying on my knees, a neighbor who saw what happened brought me a towel, said something I didn't hear, and put her hand on my shoulder. I gently wrapped this tiny dog into the towel and picked him up. The neighbor knew the where the dog lived and began leading me there. I couldn't speak as she told me he always chases cars and almost was struck by a bus that morning. None of that mattered to me. Still doesn't. I walked to the little dog's home and the mother was already walking out to meet me. All I could do was squeak out, "I am so sorry." She was apologizing to me after seeing the condition I was in. That didn't matter to me. Still doesn't. If I had any money at all, I would have walked home and left that job forever. Instead, I finished my deliveries with red, watery eyes and avoided looking anyone in the face. Lexie, uncharacteristically stayed near my side that night. The next morning, I prayed no one would be at the dog park so I could walk quietly in the dark. Petey's owner was walking alone and came over to me. I was still living the previous day and couldn't look her in the eye. After a moment, she said, "Something is wrong with you, what happened?" After trying to avoid the conversation, she persisted and I finally told her the story. "That's the worst nightmare for someone like you," she said and stepped in front of me to hug me. I stood there and tried not to cry, again. Mostly, we walked in silence after that. She never knew it but that one act of kindness helped.
Lexie gets lost.
I can't begin to guess how many trips that Lexie and I made to the Bear Creek Dog Park. We covered every inch of those 25 acres, multiple times. The calm pool in the southwest corner became Lexie's favorite location. It was less visited, provided great places to lay in the creek, upstream from all the popular places. There were even deeper spots that allowed coverage up to her shoulders. Next to the fenced-in dog park was a good sized public field where we often ventured to avoid the dog park crowds. Across the street was Bear Creek park, which provided another large option for dog walks.
Overall, I enjoyed the dog park so I could see the large variety of dogs, conversate with some casual friends, and know that my best friend could wander freely within the safe confines. In contrast, Lexie enjoyed the mostly empty field, next to the dog park to explore. She could go about her business without worrying about some random canine trying to force her to play. One day, however, she crossed from one trail (where she was) to the trail on the opposite side of the field (where I was). It turned out the whole field was full of cactus plants. By the time she arrived, she had needles poking from her nose, muzzle, and paws. We sat in the middle of the trail and gently extracted all the cactus spears. She never even flinched. Another time, I turned to make sure Lexie was behind me. She was. But, about ten feet behind her was a scraggly coyote. As soon as Lexie say my eyes focus behind her, she turned around. Exactly what I was trying to avoid happening. She thought she had a new friend and immediately spun to begin running toward her supposed new friend. This spooked the coyote who took off across the field and jumped the adjoining fence onto a private ranch. Fortunately, Lexie halted when I called her to stop. I actually felt sorry for the coyote who was painfully thin and looked to be in poor health. This is all to say, we knew this area well, whether in the dog park proper or along the perimeter.
Yet, one night I walked the park with a small group of people as our various dogs romped around, most with small lights affixed to their collars. However, Lexie's light had stopped working and I hadn't replaced it yet. On a moonless night, she was constantly out of sight. Since she was so well behaved and we were inside the park, I didn't even think about it. It was getting late and the group was dispersing so I called for Lexie and waiting for her big head to appear at my side. She didn't. I wasn't concerned and called again. Nothing. One member of our group was a lady who had two little terrier-mix dogs, Buddy and Smokey. Dana also possessed a unique ability to yell a dog's name at a volume that I couldn't match. Still nothing. We walked to the corner pool, Lexie's favorite part in the park, thinking it would be the only place she might not have heard her named being called. That part of the park was empty. I thought Lexie might have gotten separated and probably headed to the park's gate. So, we headed that direction. No Lexie. I finally got worried, thinking someone might have either stolen her from the park or found her standing at the gate and thought she was abandoned. By now, it had been 15-20 minutes and Lex was never away from me that long. She checked in about every 3-4 minutes when we hiked, Always. We split up to go around the perimeter of the park, I went up the hill and Dana followed the creek. By now, my level of panic had reached a painful level. Finally, I heard Dana's voice pierce the blackness, "Matt, I have Lexie!!" I couldn't even run back down the hill because I couldn't see the trail. Dana said she found Lexie walking down the main trail, looking around, trying to find me. To this day, I cannot imagine where she went or how we missed her. I kneeled in front of her and hugged her, which she hated, and kept mumbling, "Where were you? I couldn't find you, bub!" This time, she actually seemed to be excited that we were back together.
 |
Buddy's fuzzy little face.
|
 |
| Smokey's fuzzy little face |
Inspirational
One of my favorite people from Bear Creek was a man I didn't know well. He walked alone with an old, white dog. They moved very slowly and did not cover a lot of ground due to the old dog's limitations. But, she had something in common with my best friend: they both loved to lay in the cold running creek. Many mornings, Abby and Lexie would lay quietly in the subdued morning light, two dogs content with feeling the cold water slowly move around them. I always tried to give the gentle old dog a light pet. One day, I introduced myself and Lexie. I asked if I could take a few photos of his dog. Walt explained that since he was older and retired, he would rescue older dogs from the shelter who were often over-looked and give them a good "golden years" phase of their lives. Then, he would repeat the process. I don't know if Walt is still around, but to me, he walked as a hero.
 |
| Abby's favorite activity |
 |
| Abby found her spot while Lexie was busy scooping up the chilly water |
 |
| A man and his dog |
 |
| The look of affection |
Kindred spirits
One guy at the park had a golden retriever who acted as though I was his soulmate. As the golden would find me, he would literally sprint toward me so he could jump up and hug me. This happened with on other dog at the park, Grover. The owner had three dogs but Grover considered me as his long, lost best friend ever. It was such a condition with this sweet dog that if his owner was driving through Old Colorado City and passed Lexie and I walking down the sidewalk, Grover would get hyper-excited and start barking out the window. Often, Steve would turn around and park so Grover could give me a good mauling. It was seriously adorable.
Lowriders
One of the more interesting guys had a collection of six dogs who I dubbed the "lowriders." It was a collection of basset hounds and dachshunds. They never failed to bring a smile to all who saw them coming. One day, I took a few photos of his cartoon pack. It was a few weeks until he and I crossed paths again. Uncharacteristically, he deliberately approached me. Then asked, "Hey, did any of those photos turn out? I lost (I forget the dog's name) last week and wondered if I could get a copy of one of your pictures." That night, I printed all the photos that I had of his pack and delivered them the next day. I could see the appreciation on his face as he found the image of his missing pack member.
 |
| A few of the "Lowriders" |
Variety
Bear Creek supplied an entire array of "dog people." There were breed specific owners like the lady who had an amazingly well behaved quartet of miniature border collies. There were collectors of big dogs like Bob, an elderly man, who almost managed to walk a collection of five giant and large breed dogs. A lady who was fond of Weimaraners, as she walked three and made a point to tell me that she contributed generously to the maintenance and development of the dog park. I randomly met people who volunteered at the Mill Dog Rescue. Weekends supplied an influx of new people and often ill-behaved dogs. This resulted in many of the regulars avoiding weekends. There are almost endless stories from our walks at the dog park. But, since Lexie was mostly neutral about the dog park, many of those stories were more about me than her. And, this blog is Lexie's story. |
| Random Italian Greyhound, fighting Colorado's chill |
 |
| Gentle giant |
 |
| A dog named "Boy." A husky/wolf mix that was rescued and well taken care of for many years after this photo. |
 |
| Cute little dog with a missing toof |
 |
| This is Wink. He was the single most confidant tiny dog who ever visited Bear Creek Dog Park. |
 |
| Random Weim puppy |
 |
| The magic face of a husky |
 |
| A truly massive Mastiff. After I posted this photo, a buddy in California wanted to buy this big ole boy. He was well loved and not for sale, however. |
 |
| Lexie, doing what she normally did at the dog park. She was so young, healthy, and strong when we moved to Colorado Springs. |
 |
| Lexie purposefully striding toward the corner of the park so she could lay in the creek without interruption |
 |
Winter at the dog park. Lexie seemed impervious.
|
Cutler mountain
After a little research, I came across a trail called Cutler mountain trail, in Cheyenne canyon. Cheyenne canyon is on the west side of Colorado Springs and extremely scenic. It's so close but truly feels remote, once you get a few hundred yards down any trail. I intended this trip to be simply a drive through the canyon and to make a mental note for the Cutler trailhead. It wasn't the first time that I saw the pull-out for parking and decided to stop...just to check it out a little. Like almost every trail in Colorado, from the trailhead, it goes up. This fact is always annoying to a pudgy guy who likes to ease into an activity. But, it can't be helped. Cutler is a well-groomed, wide trail surrounded by forest. Almost immediately, it feels much more city-distant than it is in truth. Lexie was busy sniffing so we just kept meandering up the trail. Being so local, it is a popular trail but we didn't see too many people. The trail crosses several small bridges, to Lexie's frustration. At each bridge, she would balk and look for some alternate route. In this case, there wasn't any. So, I would just keep walking and look back at my anxious, whining dog, "Come on! You can do it!"- I would call to her. Often, I thought of John Muir's famous story about a dog named "Stickeen" and their perilous journey in Alaska. While we were in zero danger, Lexie was having quite a struggle. Eventually, she would crouch low to the ground and take one tiny step after another. I would praise her like she had traversed Muir's Alaskan ice bridge. Considering my buddy's considerably effort and the nice feeling of dirt under my feet, I decided to just do the hike. The trail winds up and around the backside of the mountain, opposite the side of the trailhead. On the backside, it narrows in places. One such piece of trail had degraded to a very narrow strip where the penalty of a fall might be a significant problem. However, the backside also provided a great view to the adjoining valley. Across that valley was a tall waterfall. So, already, this was well worth the decision to keep walking. That said, it wasn't exactly what I would call an "easy" trail, for me. Lexie didn't even notice, except to stop and wait for me to catch up. As any proper trail, the view at the top is excellent. The summit also provided some significant sheer drops as well, so I had to keep an eye on my sure-footed canine who liked to trigger my impressive fear of high places. After spending some time at the top of the trail, the descent is truly a joy. Lexie even handled the bridges slightly better (sort of) on the return trip. Combined with almost perfect hiking weather, it ended up as a great little hike. We took the long way, driving home, to enjoy the scenery, which includes multiple peaks into the surrounding valley and the dirt road traveling through a few tunnels as it winds through the canyon and back toward the city. |
| Lexie, waiting on the slow walker |
 |
| One switchback ahead and looking down on me, literally and figuratively |
 |
| Every hike is great when there are patches of snow to lay in and cool off for the big black dog |
 |
| One of those rare moments that I can still remember the feeling today. Relaxed, perfect temp, beautiful scenery, content. |
 |
From the summit of Cutler mountain.
Happy dog, happy dad. |
Face
The people who got to know Lexie often saw her normal expression which was a combination of stoic disinterest and elevated condescension. Little did most people know, she had an expansive range of funny facial expressions and moods. One of my highest motivators for hiking or adventures in the countryside was that her seeming boredom was replaced with the sharp determination of a dog who was engaged and happy. Of course, this made me happy as well. Perhaps her greatest contribution to my life however were the daily smiles that she provided. I doubt if a single day passed where, at some point, she failed to make me laugh. Certainly, she made me smile multiple times each day. A valuable gift since those moments were rare. |
Lexie hated being photographed but once in a great while, she would sit still and give me something out of the ordinary
|
New discovery
In the hierarchy of Lexie's favorite things, food was undisputed #1. After that, 2nd and 3rd seemed pretty close and could possibly be interchanged, depending upon the day. Hiking was always a welcome adventure especially when the weather was cold, or snowy, or rainy, or all of the the above. When the temperature sailed, however, watery destinations were the preferred choice. Creeks were laid in. Ponds were explored or swam. Even watery dirt (read: mud) would be something to check out. Once, mud became dangerous but that story comes later. We had visited Stratton Open Space, on a few occasions, to hike. It was fine but nothing special. We kept hearing about a reservoir where a lot of dogs played and swam but we hadn't stumbled on it yet. Finally, we made it a mission to find this reservoir and see what it had to offer. Lexie hadn't gotten to swim since leaving Fort Collins during her excursions with Bagel and Maggie. I wondered if she would swim alone or if her old anxieties would resurface. But, I hoped my big dog with the giant webbed paws would re-discover an old joy.
We parked at a different trailhead and started up the dirt road. It wasn't long before we could see the tall chain link fence that circled the calm water. We could hear the excited barks of dogs jumping and splashing around. At the top of the hill, there was a large gate entrance where gravel and trees reached out to the left and embankment of large rocks started to the right, circling three sides of the reservoir. Lexie trotted right into the cool water to wade around. I petted a few water soaked dogs who gifted me with a shower from vigorously shaking some liquid from their fur only to charge back into the water.
I watched to see if Lexie would venture into deeper water. For now, she was just shoulder deep but seemed to be enjoying herself. Eventually, I watched as she looked out over the water. Then, walked in with purpose, almost like the memories snapped into her brain of previous trips with old friends. Off she swam, it made me smile.
Then it made me concerned.
Out of the sky, several ducks glided down and landed softly on the surface. Lexie immediately saw them and began her paddling pursuit. I smiled a little more at my determined, instinctual pup. These ducks, no doubt familiar with the many dog visitors, had developed a cruel streak. The would sit calmly, bobbing gently, and wait until a dog would get within inches of their tailfeathers. Then, with a burst of wings, they fluttered forward. However, they wouldn't fly away, they simply advanced about 20 feet. The dog, no doubt thinking they barely missed their prey, continued their frantic swimming. This would repeat over and over. Lexie was nothing if not stubborn. She was too far away to hear me and too target fixated to listen. She hadn't swam in quite some time. I began to seriously worry about her ability to stay above water. From my vantage point, I thought she had lowered in the water and her head had angled to remain above water line.
I couldn't imagine how difficult it would be if I had to swim out to try and save my 90 pound, wet, tired dog. It had been decades since I swam but there was no way I would watch my best friend drown. Before that drastic step, I starting scrambling over the uneven rock berm that surrounded the reservoir. I was trying to move fast but the surface was completely dis-jointed with numerous holes that promised to sprain or break an ankle. Finally, I got to the closest spot to Lexie, still in pursuit of the ducks. I threw rocks to break her focus with the nearby splash and screamed her name. Finally, her head turned my direction. "COME!!" - I yelled and gestured. With one last glance at the bobbing ducks, she started my direction. As she approached, I could hear her breath, snorting from her nose. I was still panicked and ready to jump in if she sank. My brain began recalling stories I had read about dog owners who tried to rescue their dogs in cold water. Often, the dog would survive while the owner drown. Then, those stories made sense as Lexie got close to the shoreline. The last 5-10 feet, I could see below the shallow water and it appeared she was simply slowly strolling down a path. I expected frantic, exhausted paddling as she willed herself to get to solid ground but the truth was that she was barely exerting any effort, it seems, and was completely relaxed. Those giant paws and strong legs were moving at a walking pace. Reaching the rock incline where I was standing, she casually stepped past me a few feet and shook off the cold water like she was exiting a bath. I think, I think I heard her say, "you're an idiot" as I hugged her face and kissed her muzzle.
Lesson for the day: be cautious but don't underestimate the ability of a dog who is at the very peak of her health and descended from dual lineages to swim in ice cold Newfoundland and Scottish water. She reinforced this lesson as we headed home and she was her normal, bouncy, exploratory self. She was right, I am an idiot.
 |
| Water was one of her favorite places to be |
 |
| On the hunt for mean ducks |
 |
| Lexie, wondering why I look so concerned |
 |
She didn't seem to have the footing/traction
issues that I did |
 |
For my concern, I'm awarded with a spray down
|
 |
| Post-swim, dried off and warmed by Colorado sunshine |
Cow gift
During my stint as an oxygen delivery stooge, the hours were pretty abysmal. It broke my heart every time I left for work, especially during those middle-of-the-night, on-call trips. At least during "normal" work days, Lexie had our schedule and, I'm certain, slept through a large segment of the day, waiting for my return. But, those off-schedule interruptions must have been confusing. But, then I got one of the better gifts that I've received, in the form of two kind people. After a few months in my new job, a new guy was hired, at my job. Through the course of several conversations, we learned there was a shared love for animals. He and his wife had two dogs and several cats. More generously, after hearing my lament for Lexie's many hours alone, he offered to let me bring Lexie over to spend her day with his pack of critters. Immediately, I remembered all of those days when I left Lexie with her friend, Maggie, in Fort Collins.
Like then, Lexie got along with this new collection of four-legged friends. One of their dogs, Shelby, was a big, marshmallow of a dog and seemed to especially enjoy Lexie's presence. At least Lex didn't have to spend her days alone. For several years, Lexie had her own little temporary pack. For this generosity, I could never re-pay this debt to Todd and Kristi. The struggle was to get Lexie to come home, leaving an actual house, yard, and perpetual treats which included people food.
I seldom left Lexie behind if I needed to leave town but I had gained a home where I trusted the care she would receive. This was very rare as I had only trusted my best friend to a couple of people in her life. It was an un-solicited act of kindness. In addition to the safety and social interaction that Lexie received while there, she also got lots of treats and table scraps. So, she thought it was the greatest place ever. One non-food gift was that of a stuffed cow, from Todd and Kristi. As a puppy, Lexie would vigorously rip all the stuffing from any soft toy that I gave to her. But, as she aged, she rarely harmed them. That small, black and white cow was a companion for many years of Lexie's life. To this day, it remains one of those reminders of her gentle spirit.
 |
| Bored dog on a couch...with a cow |
 |
| Dog...with a cow on her head |
New pack member
During our life in Old Colorado City, one of the constants within that strange neighborhood was the existence of stray cats that roamed the various alleys, streets, and trash dumpsters. It wasn't long that I saw three stray cats scatter off my patio, when I came out in the morning or returned at night. I was never a real fan of cats. I preferred the immediate satisfaction of calling a dog and watching as they would amble over for an ear rub. In the section of alley nearest my apartment, I began to recognize a number of the stray cats. There were five, in my little stretch of dirt alley. They found shelter underneath an ancient railroad car that was used as storage for a greasy auto repair shop. There were several other strays, only a few hundred feet away, near a small, even more dilapidated apartment building.
As I've mentioned, Lexie changed me. No longer could I simply walk past a living creature every day and view their hunger passively. So, I began purchasing the cheapest cat food I could find and leaving a small portion in a bowl, accompanied by a clean bowl of water. It was sad watching these dirty, thin, unhealthy little lives scrounge for food to stay alive. As a side note, over the years, even cheap food significantly improved their health as they no longer survived on dumpster garbage. Surprisingly, I noticed that many of these very wary, un-trusting little cats were curious about the big, black dog that walked past them without a glance. It wasn't long that three of the strays were visiting my patio. They seemed to feel safer when drinking from Lexie's water bowl. This began a decade+ long period of my life that involves stray cats. Eve, Bo, Squeeks, Scar, Frank, Charlie, Twitch, Shaggy, Shadow and several others...I could write a small book on this topic but I'll only focus a few that became prominent characters in Lexie's life. The primary feline interloper is a cat named Grace.
Blunt Park was the nearest park and so it was the most frequented on our walks or Lexie's bathroom breaks. I don't hesitate to say that we walked, played, explored that park thousands of times. It was the location for several already mentioned stories and many that will follow. Typically, during our normal walk loop, Blunt Park was the final park that we wandered through. It was usually late and dark. One night, as Lexie sniffed her way "through the newspaper," a very small stray appeared out of the blackness. With a loud "meow" for such a small cat, she hopped up on my lap, as I sat on a low retaining wall.
I chatted at her, she replied with an assortment of purrs. I smiled. Lexie noticed the interaction and trotted over to investigate. Little cat jumped away from the big, black dog. I assumed that was the last I would see of her since stray cats came and went in the neighborhood and I didn't know this one. She was little, and young, so I didn't know how she would fare with the cooling October weather. To my surprise, the next night..."meow" was her greeting as she vaulted onto the wall. Every night that week, this little cat materialized out of the darkness and jumped on my lap to be petted. Quickly, she accepted Lexie's presence and seems to be insisting that I listen to her. I was leaving town for a week and wondered if this little, new, stray calico would be gone when I returned. My last night before leaving, I gave her the requisite pets and whispered, "If you're here when I get back, we'll talk."
Coming back from my trip, I was excited to see Lexie since we were rarely separated that long. As we walked, during the evening, I thought about the little stray and asked Lexie if she thought we would see her. "Don't care," was her reply, I'm pretty sure. I sat in the normal spot and scanned the darkness for any sign of moving shadows. Nothing. "Meow" and up sprang the little stray who had ninja'd herself to my feet without my noticing. As I smiled and started petting her, I noticed something different in the pale light. It was a fresh, deep scratch across her face. I picked her up and saw barely dried blood covering the fur on her chest from two puncture wounds under her chin. Suddenly, she looked even smaller.
I scooped up her tiny body and said to her, "You're coming with me." Without a doubt, I knew this was my cat. This was reinforced through the years as her very gregarious greeting to me is the exact opposite toward everything else she has met since. She hides from everyone and remains unfriendly to everything, except for Lexie. I carried her to my little apartment and cleaned her wounds. I left her sleeping on the couch, while closing Lexie in the bedroom, just to err on the side of caution. Lexie had never even attempted to hurt anything. She had shown no interest in the neighborhood strays, even though several had approached her. But, she also never lived with one before. I ran to Walmart for food and litter, assuming it would be that simple to bring a stray cat inside and keep her there. It was. She immediately used the litter box, ate all the food I put in front of her, and has never attempted to wander away. I named her, "Grace."
Only surpassed by Lexie's complete equanimity, she has seamlessly endured a great deal of change. As of this writing, Grace has been with me for more than eleven years. While she wouldn't allow the addition of a second stray into our tribe, something she literally fought off (resulting in several vet trips), she has become a great friend to me. Lexie never showed any real interest into the new family member, even though Grace consistently tried to cozy up to her big sister. That said, I think Lexie enjoyed having some kind of company during the hours alone. Grace could have her own book. Her presence in Lexie's life was important to me but their interaction with each other was fairly void of story-telling.
 |
| Kitty godfather |
 |
Grace's wary expression before clamoring
to be let back inside |
 |
| I've always like this picture |
 |
| Grace's first photo after healing up |
 |
Over the years, Grace's eye color has become more different, right vs left
|
A failed venture
The longest time that I ever spent away from Lexie was when an old friend contacting me about doing some freelance work for his company. It was scheduled for a week since that is all the vacation time that I had. Located in Ojai, CA, I was enticed by two things: 1. Extra money 2. My buddy's Ducati. He was an old riding buddy and had a very nice motorcycle that he offered full access. I had visions of riding down PCH to visit friends I hadn't seen in 10+ years, eating in sorely missed old haunts, and bending some corners on Ortega Highway on Italian steel. Long story short, none of those things happened as I worked 20 hour days trying to finish my commitment. However, it did put some disposable money in my pocket. I used it for an idea that I had been playing with, in my brain. I wondered if I could become a pet photographer, at least as some supplemental income. The goal was to capture candid, natural environment pictures of dogs, cats, and horses. I wasn't interested in studio photos. I got the idea after stumbling on a couple photographers on a website called Flickr. One, especially, was gifted at capturing something special with her photos.
So, I bought the cheapest Canon DSLR that I could, along with a couple different lenses and misc accessories. I talked to a few actual professional photographers, took some basic classes, joined a photography club, and carried that thing everywhere. I tried pretty hard but never found any ability to match that ambition. The only pictures that were even acceptable were those of a few dogs. I never found the knack for capturing a cat's personality. I was even worse with horses. Even with the help of a co-worker, who owned a beauty of a horse, I never took a decent picture of that big horse or any other.
However, I had volunteered one day at a horse rescue, in the past. I asked if I could visit to take some pictures and was given the "ok" to try. I had interacted with a local cat rescue who had helped me re-home a few strays. They, too, allowed me to take photos of their cats. Around this same time, I visited a wolf rescue in the mountains of Colorado. I also visited a local big cat rescue. The following photos are from those visits.
I'm including these because it reflects the depth of influence that Lexie had on my life. Prior to her impact on my life, I would never have considered any of the above.
Ironically, her influence also ended my little photography infatuation but that will come later.
 |
| Pretty sure he just wanted to take a nap |
 |
He reminded me of a stray that I re-homed,
could have been twins |
 |
| Very kind sanctuary cat, she was 20 years old |
 |
| Halloween cat |
 |
| Intensely focused |
 |
| What thought fills his head? |
 |
| Looks like something from a fairy tale |
 |
| Serval, thinking about hunting |
 |
| Amber |
 |
| Petting a full grown female wolf is a uniquely special experience |
 |
| Wolf/Saint Bernard hybrid, he was a full foot taller than me |
 |
| Rescued horse at sunset |
 |
| One hopes a rescued horse knows they are finally safe |
 |
| Class clown |
 |
| Beauty queen |
Unseen threat
I have continued to talk about Lexie's gentle spirit. It's one of my favorite things about her. I never worried about Lexie starting a fight or hurting anything she met.
Except once.
In the small park, nearest my apartment where Lexie and I would visit more than any other, we were often there at odd hours of the day. One such evening provided an instance where Lexie actually surprised me. I've mentioned that Blunt Park (named after a funeral home located one block north) was often the conduit for less than upstanding members of society. I don't recall why but we were finishing up a walk very late at night. Lexie's coloring meant that when she was off leash, at night, she disappeared in darkness when she walked more than 10 feet away. About 1/2 through the park, I looked up from the sidewalk when I noticed some kind of movement ahead. Many places I've lived have taught me to be alert, especially at night. Across the street, two guys split up: one headed toward the commercial area while the other one turned around to look straight at me. He wasn't anyone I recognized. For reasons unknown to me, he began walking a direct line, in my direction. As he diagonally crossed the street, he wrapped both hands around his skateboard and raised it above his head. Needless to say, this wasn't normal behavior. I keep walking forward and started flipping mental levers to prepare for a street fight. As he reached the middle of the road, out of the darkness echoed a very deep bark. It was a sound that I hadn't heard from Lexie, before or after. In my periphery, slightly blacker than it's surroundings, I could see a dog shape trotting toward the man crossing the street. To this guy, Lexie was totally invisible in the unlit park. He immediately dropped his arms and almost crouched, with his skateboard in front of body while his head and eyes snapped around to try and locate what created this sound. Uncertain which way to go, he started backpedaling the direction his buddy had walked.
I smiled. As Lexie appeared next to me, I said, "Wow buddy, looks like you have some fight in there after all."
The funny thing about this incident is its novelty. I had a few other, potentially more dangerous, encounters where Lexie did not even seem to notice.
 |
Blunt Park, typically a nice little neighborhood park
|
7 Bridges
We, or should I say "I," continued looking for new places to visit and/or hike. One such location was called "7 Bridges Trail." It offered several advantages: location, shade, water, and challenge. Researching the trail, it was pretty consistently ranked as "easy to moderate." Again...lies. While Lexie seldom struggled, I often found this trail difficult but maybe that was just too many french fries talking. With so many other positive factors, we visited this trail quite a few times. From the large parking area, the initial 3/4 mile was along a fireroad and often quite busy with people because there are several hiking options in that part of the canyon. But, once on the singletrack of 7 bridges trail, it was typically pretty unpopulated and quiet. It is an up-and-back trail that runs parallel with a strong river, failing from higher peaks. Located in north Cheyenne canyon, the majority of the trail is shaded and there were plenty of places for Lexie to get a drink or lay down in the flowing water.
As one might guess, 7 bridges highlights this trail as it bounces back and forth across the creek. As a hiker passes each bridge, the following section of trail would become more steep. The incline is rather unrelenting. After the last bridge, there is a decent length of trail that is exposed to direct sunlight, as it traverses a steep shale hillside, and presents one tricky little section that requires scrambling almost straight up. This is even worse in the winter, when covered in snow. A stumble on this section of trail would not have been a pleasant experience. However, the pay-off was always worth the effort. We always stopped in a large aspen grove called Jones Park, often breaking out some sad, little lunch. To me, this was the "terminus" of 7 bridges trail, even though technically, it connects to multiple other trails near Jones Park that provides opportunity for a continued hike, should a person be so inclined. I was not so inclined. Nor was Lexie.
A couple of incidents on 7 Bridges trail
1. As I mentioned, Lexie and I visited this hike on multiple occasions. One particular day when we had little to do and I was more curious than normal, so I decided that we would wander a little further than Jones Park. Into the pine forests we headed. Lexie was very excited every time we put foot and paw on unknown pieces of dirt. On this part of the mountain, I noticed that much of the trail was worn about two feet below the surface of the surrounding ground level, basically a deep "U" shape. I kept plodding up the hill as Lex was off exploring. She always caught up easily so I wasn't worried and we were the only ones around. Then I heard a familiar noise, the distinct sound of a 4-stroke motorcycle engine.
I looked far up the trail and saw flashes of color appear and disappear between the trees. I could tell by the tone and the speed of the flashes, the riders were moving hard and fast. I took off at a sprint down the trail, calling Lexie's name. I think I've mentioned that Lexie was convinced any trail she was standing on, she owned. She rarely moved, expecting everyone to re-direct around her 90+ pounds of dirt ownership. I knew the riders were going hard enough that all of their concentration would be sharply focused on hitting each berm of the deeply grooved trail properly. The wouldn't see a big, black dog until they were right on top of her. The path was too narrow and too grooved to go around her. Lexie wouldn't know to jump out of the way. The impact would be brutal and we were miles from any help. The motorcycles were closing distance, fast.
I kept running until I saw her. Like I thought, Lexie was standing right in the middle of the trail and my shouting did nothing except create an expression of confusion. She never budged as I ran directly at her. I grabbed her by the chest and collar, pulling her firmly off the trail. Obviously having watched too many movies, my mind kept playing out the scene of a hero dragging a victim off of train tracks only seconds before the screaming train barreled past. My situation wasn't nearly that dramatic. I turned around and the first motorcycle had just popped out of the nearest tree-line, which was probably 100 feet away. As he went past, I think he barely even noticed we were there. The second rider nodded as he sailed by. Lexie was simply irritated that I had so rudely pulled her off of "her" trail and was still holding her collar. She merely watched the loud machines go past, neither curious or scared. So, of everyone involved, I was the only participant who was completely frazzled as I sat panting and sweating in the tall grass. I released my grip and Lexie happily trotted back to the trail and started up the hill, no more interested than if a bumblebee had fluttered by. We immediately turned around and headed down the mountain.
2. On another visit to 7 Bridges, it was the middle of summer and very hot. Heat was the entire reason for deciding on this trail. Shaded for the vast majority of our hike and the presence of the stream provided ample opportunity for my Lexie to cool off and play in the water. In Colorado, for what ever reason, the temperature difference between shade and direct sunlight is significant. So, we had a great hike to Jones Park and back to the fire-road trail split. Lexie had laid down several times in the cold water, had her fill of drinking, begged a few bites of my peanut butter sandwich, and probably avoided the vast majority of my attempts at capturing a good photograph of her. As we popped out of the trees and onto the last 3/4 miles of fire-road walking to the car, I watched her cross the road and head down the shallow decline toward the creek. So, I waited in some shade until she came back from her last drink. As we stepped back onto the fire-road, Lexie crossed behind me. I was probably started thinking about the rest of the afternoon as I walked about five feet. Reflexively, I glanced to the right, where Lexie had joined me before crossing behind. I kept turning until I rotated 360 degrees. Lexie was nowhere to be seen. I stopped and looked around again. Nothing. I called her name. Nothing.
It had only been seconds, how could she have gotten completely out of my range of vision?! I assumed she went back to the water. After looking everywhere along the creek bank, nothing. She seemed to have simply disappeared. She wasn't responding to my shouting, either. I asked everyone passing in either direction if they saw a big black dog. Nothing.
I began to panic. I could see far down the fire-road but saw no big, black shapes. I walked toward the trail split to 7 Bridges and saw nothing in the shadows. Had Lexie somehow lost sight of me and decided to go find me? I kept picturing her scared eyes from the last time that I had played hide-and-seek with her. It was heartbreaking and I was afraid she had starting running to look for me. But which way? Did she head back to the car since that was the direction we had been walking? Or, did she head back into the forest when she saw that I was no longer walking with her, toward the car? If I went back up trail, she might get lost, run over, or stolen at the parking lot. If I went to the car, I would never, ever catch up with her by the time I got back to 7 Bridges trail and she would be alone in the mountains. The afternoon was almost gone. I was sick with worry.
Thinking about my best friend in the mountains at night, alone, made my decision. I knew I could get to the car pretty quickly. In my car, I had my hiking backpack with my tent, water filter, headlamp, sleeping bag etc. If she wasn't there or I didn't find her along the way, I would trade my daypack for my backpack and return to 7 Bridges. I was not about to leave without Lexie. I would camp as long as it took to find her.
I jogged along the fire-road, toward the parking area, scanning everywhere and calling her name. Nothing. About 1/4 mile from the parking lot, I saw a woman walking awkwardly in the opposite direction. She was bending sideways to hold onto the collar of a big, black dog. She immediately saw my focus narrow in on Lexie and she released her grasp on the collar. I knelt down while Lex galloped to me. I hugged Lexie and told her how scared I had been. This stranger approached us, smiling. As I blubbered my gratitude, she said that she found Lexie at the parking lot and described my car. Simultaneously, I thanked her over and over again while marveling at how smart it was for Lexie to go to the car and wait. To this day, I have no idea how she could have gotten so out of sight in only a few seconds.
When Lexie was young and jumped the backyard fence to go wander around, she wasn't the least bit concerned when I got her back. I think she was rather proud of herself for having gone on a little adventure. This time was different. Lexie was almost always a very stoic dog. Also, she rarely seemed to get rattled. But, she seemed genuinely happy to see me running down that trail. She was demonstrably excited at this reunion. I was acutely aware that I needed to be more careful, especially in an area that could pose serious danger. I never stopped letting Lexie off-leash so she could explore. But, when we were in the mountains, I kept a closer eye and ear on her after that day. I'm pretty sure, on the drive home, I bought her a cheeseburger. For Lexie, that erased any lingering bad memory. Ever.
 |
| Extreme closeup as we stopped for a break |
 |
| The scree field section. I actually got Lexie to stay for a picture. |
 |
| Impatient dog that wants to keep moving |
 |
| One of the 7 bridges, Lexie takes a cooling break |
 |
| This is how I normally felt when we were hiking |
 |
| Lexie playing below one of the many small waterfalls |
 |
Looking down from one of the 7 bridges. Lexie hated bridges so she
always looked for her own water crossing. |
 |
| She looks like she is yelling at me about something |
 |
| She was pretty proud of herself with this location. This particular drop, just below her tail, was approximately 20 feet. |
 |
| Lexie walking up the scree field |
 |
| Just off trail and the big, black dog is cooling herself down |
 |
| At the top of the trail, something caught Lexie's attention |
 |
| She saw something up in the trail that she wanted. I couldn't find it. |
 |
| Some of the typical dead-fall trees found along most Colorado trails |
 |
| The aspen grove in Jones Park. This is where we usually paused for lunch. |
 |
Lexie standing above one of the waterfalls, looks like a mini black hole
in the trees |
 |
Trying to get a little closer but there wasn't enough light
to get any detail of Lex's face |
 |
| Near the top of the hike descending from Jones Park |
 |
Lexie's strong nose rarely missed it when some animal had stashed
a future meal up in a tree fork. She was so strong and
happy at this phase of her life. |
 |
| One of our Autumn hikes on 7 Bridges trail |
 |
I always tried to capture some of the cool parts of this trail. I never got
a photo that I was truly happy with. |
 |
| I love water running quickly over a fallen log |
 |
Above Jones Park on the day we explored a little further than normal and
Lexie almost got ran over by a motorcycle. |
 |
| Aspen groves are one of my favorite things |
 |
| The amazing textures of nature always impresses me |
 |
A small sliver of stream near the bottom of the canyon. Another scenario that I
continually tried to photograph and never captured well. |
 |
One of our winter hikes on 7 bridges trail. Few things are prettier
than snow and running water. |
No comments:
Post a Comment