hiking – Page 5 – Me and the Doods.com

The Water Bottle

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.

The Goofy Giant

Spring has officially arrived. I had my first up close and personal rattlesnake encounter of the season. I was coming down a trail when an obviously scared surfer dude (I’m judging) on his way up, pointed out a snake that was coiled up and rattling in the brush. Fortunately, I had no dogs with me, just my trusty stick.

He was ready to turn around and sprint down the trail. I convinced him to wait it out. Sure enough, a few minutes later the snake left and we both ran past it. I’m still not a fan, but I’m no longer terrified by them. The surfer dude is.

On the bright side, thanks to the rains, the display of wild flowers in the Santa Monica mountains is magnificent. It’s no secret that I’m obsessed with them. The hillsides look as if they’ve been painted purple and yellow and blue. My words and my cell phone photos don’t do them justice.

I’ve been taking Stanley with me quite a bit, on wide trails with no hiding snakes. He’s the logical choice since Gus, with his long hair is like velcro. Fox tails and everything else stick to him. And Elbee is getting a little older.

ELBEE Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?

Hiking with Stanley brings back so many memories of the hours of freedom that I spent in the mountains with Charley. He was always so calm and at one with nature. Charley was the true gentle giant,

Stanley, on the other hand, thinks that he can catch every leaf that blows by or every bird that flies low or is dumb enough to land near him. He loves people to a fault and would like to take off with every runner and bike rider who goes by. He is the true goofy giant.

I’ve noticed something interesting about him. Stanley has this weird thing about responding to energy. Note to the daughters: I am not crazy.

ELBEE Note to the daughters: yes she is.

When we run into children or someone with a higher energy level, Stanley acts like a lunatic and practically cries. On the other hand, if he’s approached by someone with a calm demeanor, he’s like a pussy cat.

Take the other morning for example. I stopped to talk to a young couple, siting by their car, getting ready to go hiking. The man was a laid back dog person who especially liked bigger dogs. Before I knew it, there was Stanley sprawled in his lap.

He is just as goofy at home, prancing around on his long legs, plopping down for belly rubs, spinning around like Elbee and Gus. But he has a new behavior that may be the funniest.

Hard as it is to believe, this cute little ball of fur who moved in about eight months ago is now the great big pup who constantly spies on the neighbors!

Hiking with a Coyote

This may be one of my dumbest posts ever in terms of judgment and subject matter but at the time it seemed brilliant. The daughters would definitely disagree with the latter part of that statement. I was taking one of my mental health hikes to put day to day stress in perspective. Among other things, Stanley was being neutered, the phone line in the house was down and we’d found a huge beehive under the roof.

It was an absolutely spectacular morning. The air was clean and clear after the rain. The spring wildflowers were starting to bloom. The views were breathtaking. I had made it up a steep trail and was on a plateau above dirt Mulholland when I saw what I thought was a dog off leash or maybe one that had gotten lost in the mountains. As I got closer, I realized it was a coyote.

GUS Coyotes off leash! I’m never hiking again.

I’m not trying to minimize what a huge problem they are in the neighborhood, especially for those of us with dogs, but I had to remember that I was in his or her territory. Actually, since it was International Women’s Day this week I’m going with “her.”

She walked along maybe ten feet from me. If I waved my trusty stick or talked to her, she’d move further away or disappear.

ELBEE OMG she thinks she’s the coyote whisperer!

Then, a few moments later, she’d pop up again. This may seem odd, but it was the calmest most natural interaction. She even yawned once or twice. I felt no fear at all, simply curiosity and in a way, lucky to be experiencing that moment in nature.

ELBEE That’s it. I’m calling the daughters. They’re right. She’s “cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs.”

We continued like that for about half an hour, with her appearing and disappearing. I have no idea how long it might have continued if a bike rider hadn’t come up the trail, followed by a hiker. Both of them stopped because they didn’t want to scare her off either. It still must have been too much because she ran off into the mountains.

ELBEE How many crazy people are up there hiking and biking?

The daughters would find so many things wrong with this whole adventure. They don’t even like it when I go hiking with the dogs, let alone a coyote.

ELBEE Let me add that just because I’m unavailable to hike (keeping my hair fabulous for hospital visits) doesn’t mean that she should be hanging out with my mortal enemy.

In my defense, I never tried to take a selfie with her.

ElBEE I rest my case.

Oversharing in the Mountains

A few days ago, I was coming down from the mountains with Stanley when a young woman who had also been hiking stopped to admire him. She commented that his hair reminded her of her cat.

STANLEY What’s a cat?

ELBEE Oy vey.

As she was petting him, she asked me his name. When I said “Stanley,” she laughed and told me that was her boyfriend’s name. She was curious as to why I’d chosen it. I explained that Stanley was my wonderful brother who had passed away years ago. I added that he was very funny and that I was sure he got a kick out of it.

That’s when the flood gates opened. Hearing about my loss while surrounded by the beauty of nature with the comfort of Stanley in her arms, this complete stranger began sharing intimate details of her life. By the way, Stanley is nowhere near ready for a structured situation. He still chases his tail and barks at leaves blowing on the ground. Apparently, though, he is very good at trail therapy.

She told me that she’d lost her mother a few years earlier. Even though loss is different for each person, I shared that my mother had died when I was young so I could understand her pain. That’s when she opened up even more.

After losing her mother she realized that she really didn’t have an addictive personality so she stopped chain smoking and drinking. She also lost over 100 pounds. Still, she was dealing with unresolved issues of anger and grief.

I don’t know if my inner grandma took over or if it was having Stanley with us, but I tried to help. I could see by the expression on her face that a few of the things I said stuck a chord with her. It became a walking therapy session. Not sure how but even the daughters came up.

When we reached a water fountain in the park leading up to the trails, Stanley needed a drink.

ELBEE I bet he did.

She began to fill up a bowl that had been on the ground but before we knew it, he jumped on top of the fountain. Maybe this had all been too much for him.

ELBEE Of course it was.There was way too much oversharing all the way around.

She thanked me as we said goodbye. Heading to my car which was parked some distance away, it struck me how random this encounter had been. If I’d been walking alone, we probably would have smiled and just said “hi.” Because of the big, beautiful, goofy puppy by my side with the name Stanley, two strangers had a few moments of raw emotional connection.

Stanley and the Mountains

The mountains are my happy place. It’s where I can really breathe and put things in perspective. What makes hiking even better for me is going with the dogs. I started a long time ago with Larry, my brother Stanley’s Border Collie mix, and my Golden Cody. Then I spent wonderful hours of freedom exploring unknown trails with Charley.

Over the past few years, Elbee and Gus have been my faithful companions. But now, since the hills are getting a little steep for Elbee and everything sticks to Gus like velcro, I decided it was time to take Stanley.

ELBEE Excuse me. What is it lately with Stanley this and Stanley that? What am I, chopped liver. By the way, I’ve never understood that expression. I enjoy chopped liver, especially with a nice piece of rye bread.

As we started up our first trail together, other than an inordinate amount of sniffing, Stanley was doing really well. He trotted along by my side, fascinated, maybe a little too fascinated, by the lizards and birds. Fortunately, the snakes were sleeping.

To my surprise, the brush sunflower was blooming so of course I had to take his first mountain flower photo. I always took pictures of Charley and Elbee with them.

ELBEE Yes, but we had them all over our heads. Why couldn’t we just stand next to them and look cute like Stanley?

Since it was a weekend, we ran into so many of the regulars. It was like a meet and greet for Stanley. He continued sniffing everything and everyone, including every dog that went by, but his tail never stopped wagging. To my delight everyone responded so positively to him, except for the bike riders who went flying by.

ELBEE She obviously has issues with them.

Actually one really nice couple on bikes made my day. They could see that he was a puppy and wanted to know how long I’d had him. When I answered “just a few months,” they were amazed that he was so well behaved!

ELBEE I’m sure she had tears in her eyes.

To be honest, I’m still mystified by some of his good behavior. I guess it’s like with the daughters. If you don’t want to get the blame for the bad, you can’t take all the credit for the good. There’s a flaw in there somewhere.

As we were heading down, another hiker was walking by and called out, “Cute puppy. What’s his name?” When I answered, “Stanley,” he said “That’s a character name.” I have absolutely no idea what he meant, but I loved it. I’m sure my brother was watching and got a good laugh. He truly was a character.

Charley’s Angels

Recently my friend Dennis lost his wonderful 17 year old Italian Greyhound Serena. Like Charley she died peacefully. She was resting in her favorite place… in Dennis’s arms.

ELBEE I might as well remind you before Pack Leader does. Dennis has favored friend status because he told her grandkids that she was not crazy, just unconventional.

When I was hiking with Dennis last week I could hear the sadness in his voice as he talked about Serena. It made me think about losing Charley and about several other friends who’ve lost beloved dogs over the past year.

ELBEE I’m sorry but she really needs to lighten up.

Dogs, especially ones that live to be older, leave a huge void when they’re gone. They’re a major part of our everyday routine. You may not go to lunch or to the movies with your dogs but you spend more time with them than with most of your friends or family. Oops, am I just speaking for myself?

Anyone who has lost a special dog, knows how difficult it can be. It’s a long grieving process. They leave us with nothing but positive memories except for maybe peeing on the rug or eating a favorite shoe.

ELBEE Really?

It’s hard not to hear that familiar welcoming bark when you come home. It’s lonesome to lose that unconditional presence at your side.

As Dennis and I let the Santa Monica Mountains offer their healing power, we agreed that Charley was there to welcome Serena when she passed. There was so much joy in the thought of the two of them together. We could picture them watching over us and laughing. We could only imagine the conversations.

Thinking positively about Charley, Serena and our other dog angels was a lot more comforting than The Rainbow Bridge, a poem people often send when you lose a pet. It’s very sweet and supposed to make you feel better but it’s really depressing. Look it up. It’s almost as sad as the commercial where Sarah Mclaughlin sings In the Arms of the Angels as caged dogs stare at you with huge, sad eyes.

ELBEE & GUS We have to turn the channel when that comes on.

I used to think it was just me but I found out there’s something else a lot of us dog lovers share. When we’re missing a pet who’s passed, we look for signs in nature. A floating butterfly or a darting hummingbird suddenly becomes much more significant. It makes us feel as if their spirits are with us. They may be gone, but like Charley, Serena and all of the other beautiful canine souls who’ve left us, they’re still keeping watch.

Stunt Ridge

Last week I wrote about Manny Kaddour, an amazing physician and human being, whom we lost to cancer on March 25th. On the 10th, Sherrie Martinez passed away, also after a long battle with cancer. She was the administrator of the Child and Adolescent Psychiatry Division at UCLA. Everyone spoke about her the way they spoke about Manny, her smiles and her positive spirit. Gus and I attended her memorial with three other teams from PAC because she was such a dog lover. Sherrie was 36.

To cope with the sadness of losing two such vibrant young people, I headed to my mountain sanctuary. Realizing that I needed something challenging and life affirming, I decided to climb Stunt Ridge. If the butt burner, a short steep trail that I’ve written about before (Another Birthday, Another Butt Burner) is a 10K, the ridge is a marathon. My over-protective daughter/mothers should probably stop reading here, although I do get points for going with my friend Barbara Ann and not going alone.

ELBEE I wish I had stopped reading there. I wouldn’t even do this hike.

GUS I might if my legs weren’t so short.

The beginning of the hike is a gradual uphill on a wide dirt trail. Then, and only the “regulars” know this, to start the ridge climb you kind of make at u-turn into the bushes. That’s where the fun starts.

ELBEE I think she means fun for crazy people. And there are regulars? Personally I prefer the elliptical.

There is a lot of rock scrambling involved. In case my daughters are still reading, notice I said scrambling not rock climbing. There were no ropes or other equipment involved. There are also sections where you really have to stop and assess the safest way to go.

I love the freedom and the chance to experience nature. The views are spectacular. I also love that it’s strenuous and a great physical work out. Even better, it’s a great mental work out. You have to be extremely focused so that you don’t end up falling.

ELBEE OMG is that her on those rocks? It’s like where’s Waldo.

By the way, that is never going to happen. My fear of being on the news is worse than my fear of falling. They’d immediately give our ages. Then I’m sure they’d make some crack about two grandmothers having to be rescued.

At the end of the hike, I felt a combination of exhaustion and exhilaration. For a few hours Barb and I shared an adventure that was a time out. It helped me put things in perspective. I returned to reality with renewed energy and an even stronger respect and appreciation for life. I was filled with gratitude.

I’ve Got Friends in High Places

It’s no secret that the mountains are my spiritual, tranquil and creative space. Now it seems that I have a much better social life up there too. Since I’m not much of a “go to lunch” person, it makes sense that I would have a lot in common with other people out hiking. Note to the daughters: I said hiking not wandering.

ELBEE The jury is still out on that one.

We “regulars”run into each other so often that we greet each other like long lost relatives. Yolanda and Francisco, a fun couple, always stop to take pictures. Sandy, a young mom who hikes after she drops her kids at school, tells me that I’m her inspiration.

ELBEE I hate to burst Pack Leader’s bubble but that may have been an age crack.

Then there’s Kim, who does what I think is Tai Chi on an overlook but who always calls out encouragement. I promised a friend I’d mention the long haired shirtless runner we’ve nicknamed “Fabio” for obvious reasons. Yesterday I commiserated with Ted who lost his Labrador Retriever a short time ago. He told me that recently when he and his wife were watching I Love You Man, he saw me and Charley and said, “hey, that’s my hiking buddy.”

ELBEE The cameo that will live on in infamy.

Last weekend I went hiking with Gary, who is like a son to me. His mom was my dearest friend Eileen who passed away years ago, way too soon. It was a perfect day so we ran into several people in my mountain circle of friends. After a ton of enthusiastic greetings and “where are the dogs?” Gary jokingly remarked, “You should run for mayor of the mountains.”

At first I laughed but then I realized that maybe he was right. Politics is a wide open field right now and women are at the forefront. I could suddenly hear John Denver singing “mountain mama” but I could change it to “mountain grandma” as I made my ascent. I knew my constituents. I knew the issues. I could get rid of litter, open more trails to the dogs. I was a shoe in for the job

ELBEE News Flash! I think mayor of the mountains is an honorary position. On second thought, this might be perfect for me! Doesn’t the honorary mayor need an honorary press secretary? I speak three languages, Dog, English and Spanish plus a few words in French. I’m good in front of a crowd. I’m popular. I’m photogenic.

On the other hand, I have strong opinions and am pretty outspoken. Come to think of it, maybe I should be mayor of the mountains. I would even throw Gus a bone and let him be my honorary PR guy.

The Barbecue, the Bird Nest and the Bench

My last few posts have been more personal and emotional. This one not so much. It’s also only marginally dog related.

ELBEE I hate when I hear that.

Sometimes the daughters hand me material that is just too good not to use. I admit that I started it by sending them a photo but they were quick to chime in via text message.

We had an old broken down barbecue that should have been put out of its misery years ago. The husband doesn’t like to part with anything and said he was still using it. When I opened it, trying to convince him to say goodbye, I found a bird nest inside.

The daughter who might hike if there were Starbucks on the trails, thought it was disgusting. She didn’t like the one I found a month ago and brought home to show my granddaughter either. I think she used the word, “vermin.” And let me assure you that no birds were harmed in the taking of the nests. They were long gone.

I had no idea how the nest had gotten inside the barbecue. One daughter suggested that Elbee might have had something to do it. Another thought that maybe he ate the birds.

ELBEE As if! Although I admit these photos look incriminating, I was just curious and I don’t eat bird. I’ve even considered becoming vegan.

GUS For the record, I had nothing to do with it. I’m too short.

Then the oldest suggested that since we were cleaning out, it might be time to get rid of the ashes from Charley, Larry and Cody, three of our wonderful dogs who we keep in urns by the fireplace. Being practical and having a sick sense of humor, she actually said, “Why not wait for a Santa Ana wind and scatter them off the balcony.” Wonder where she gets that sense of humor.

I told her that if I was ever going to do it, the mountains would be the most fitting place, which led to the conversation about my bench. For years, I’ve been telling all three daughters that I want my own bench up in the mountains. I just have to find the right place. It doesn’t even have to be memorial. They can work on it while I’m still here.

After I sent these bench photos they asked, “Why can’t you just use one of those?” When I explained they were already taken, two of them wanted to know if I really expected them to schlep up into the mountains to visit my bench.

ELBEE What is this? “The Price is Right” for benches?

Today I saw a faux leather sofa up on a hill. It screamed pizza and nachos rather than nature and spirituality but it gave me an idea. Why not have the daughters put an exercise bench up in the mountains.

ELBEE I knew it! It’s the new year and this is a thinly veiled excuse to share one of those photos. You know the ones I mean. I’ve tried to get her to stop but Pack Leader will never get over her glory days.

THE CONFUSED DOODS What is that??

Dogs…Better than Moisturizer?

I think I have some sort of strange gift.

A few weeks ago I started jotting down ideas for this post about how dogs help with aging. Then, maybe by coincidence, I saw a piece on the NBC news that dealt with that exact topic. By the way, it was as if they’d read my notes.

After that there was the crossword puzzle, another sign. I was doing the New York Times crossword puzzle and the clue was, “Crisis of the Middle Ages.” The answer was “sag.”

ELBEE NBC read her notes? Seriously? But kudos for not reminding us that she does the puzzle in pen.

As if that’s not enough, back in January I wrote a post called “Rock On” because I was seeing so many man made rock formations on the trails. Since then, guess how many I’ve seen…none. See, I’m putting something into the universe.

ELBEE Okay, I admit Pack Leader is telling the truth. I not only saw the rock formations, it’s been months since I’ve peed on one.

Back to aging. Did you know that it’s no longer politically correct to call it anti-aging? I guess that implies it’s a bad thing, rather than something we should accept and try to do gracefully.

GUS I’m sorry but I’m so confused.

My conclusion, and one that was backed up by the news report, is that dogs definitely help with the aging process. From a purely physical perspective, they keep you active. You’re much more likely to take a walk if your dog is standing by the door waiting to exercise. To me there is nothing more restorative and that keeps me in better shape than heading into the mountains with the Doods.

It almost makes up for the younger hikers who comment, “Wow, you’re strong,” and let the phrase, “for your age” hang in the air. There’s even one guy who calls me “ma’am.”

Aging can come with it’s own emotional issues. Oops am I oversharing? There’s nothing like the unconditional love and support of a dog to help you cope. No one has ever been as happy to see me when I get home as the Doods, yes, even Elbee. That moment of pure joyful greeting lets you put everything aside for an instant.

Dogs also offer companionship and comfort. Who else would listen to all of your concerns and your opinions without judging or offering their own? Who else can make problems disappear simply by sitting at your side?

Even the responsibility for their constant care, training and nurturing is important. Mentally dogs can keep you on your toes. Try forgetting to feed them and see what happens.

Having therapy dogs is really my true gift, other than the one about putting things out into the universe. At this stage in my life, they have given me a passion for what I’m doing and the ability to make a difference. When we walk into the hospital, I never know what little miracle or what special quiet moment I’ll have the privilege of witnessing. Now if the Doods could only do something about the grey hair and wrinkles!