ELBEE “The Water Bottle” Is she serious?
The other morning, I was in the mountains taking advantage of June gloom. I love the cool weather before the heat sets in. I love seeing the last hurrah of the spring wildflowers through the mist.
ELBEE I actually agree with her on this one. I find it refreshing and I think it’s good for my already fabulous coat.
I had hiked up to one of my favorite overlooks above the main trails. It’s a peaceful spot that’s popular with the “regulars.” On clear days, there are spectacular ocean views. One man goes up there to practice tai chi. I sometimes get inspired to do push ups on the rocks. I’ve walked all the dogs up there and have even taken selfies with Elbee.
ELBEE Please don’t remind me. I was a mess from hiking. And do you like how she just happened to drop in the push ups. Although at her age, I guess I should say “way to go.”
STANLEY I wondered what she was doing.
I was enjoying the view when suddenly I saw a water bottle under the bushes. The curmudgeon in me was immediately annoyed that someone had littered. Littering, especially in the mountains, is one of my pet peeves. Years ago, when I used to take inner city high school students hiking, I was known for the “litter lecture.”
As I looked closer at the bottle, I noticed a white label on the side. In tiny printing it said, “Amber (German Shepherd) May Her Soul Rest In Peace. June 13, 2019.” The owner went on to write that this was one of her favorite spots.
Over the years, I’ve seen all sorts of
memorials on the trails. There are man made rock formations, small wooden signs and strategically placed benches. At a mountain park that was a military installation during the Cold War, there is even a faded water bowl with the name Bosco on it.
But I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything as simple and as heartfelt as the bottle. The water was left there for other dogs who, like Amber, were enjoying the mountains with their owners. It wasn’t litter. It was remembrance.
When I went back a few days later, the bottle was gone. Okay, I admit that the anti-litterbug in me was a tiny bit relieved. Still, I thought of Amber. I feel as if her soul, like those of so many other dogs who loved the mountains, is running free up there. It’s the place that I feel closest to Charley.
