Pepper and I spent the week out of town. She’s 14 years old, and we have been going on yearly hiking vacations for over a decade now. When I tell people that I will be out of town for the week because I am taking my dog on her annual hiking vacation, I get one of two responses. The person either gives me an amused giggle, or they put their hand on their heart and express how much they love that I am doing that for my dog. Usually it is the latter. The last couple of years it is a sentiment I have felt more strongly myself. I know my sweet girl is slowing down. I know we only have so many hiking vacations left together. When we started them years ago it was something fun to do with her that I really enjoyed. And, she was an easy hiking partner.
Now these trips are completely centered around her: Which trail would Pepper like the best? Which trails have streams along the way that she can drink from? Is there one where she can go swimming? Which ones will have the fewest people? Can she be off leash? How many miles is she comfortable doing each day? I also let Pepper set the pace, and choose which shady spot to stop at and take a little snooze. I go a little slower and take more rest breaks so that she’s more comfortable. Pepper can still do the steep climbs, but at the end of the first day as she settles into the backseat of the car for the drive back to our Airbnb, Pepper says:
“I’m just not like I used to be.”
Oh, my sweet Pepper. That’s OK my little Pepper girl. Neither am I. Neither is my horse.
When I had told James I was going away for a week, he simply replied:
“I’ll be here when you get back.”
When I came to see him after I returned, his words surprised me a little:
“You think you need me. But, you don’t. It’s time to just enjoy each other’s company. It can be that simple.”
As I thought about his words, I tried to feel into the deeper meaning behind them. He was speaking about more than just the two of us. His message felt inclusive of my week with Pepper. On our vacation, away from all of my daily obligations, I observed Pepper a lot more. I watched her sleep. I watched her eat. In the evening I watched her watch the turkeys walk across the yard below our balcony. I watched her nose wiggle as she took in the scent of the sheep nearby. I watched her watch the little chipmunks play. I watched her lap up the fresh mountain water, and I watched as she cooled her feet in the stream. The moments felt so precious and sweet.
I think James is saying it is the same for us now. We have no show to prepare for, no goal to reach, nothing we need to practice. Pepper knows an entire book of tricks and used to compete in agility. James and I showed and competed, too. We've done a lot together, and we know each other very well. Now we have the simple joy of being together. Just as with Pepper, it’s time to simply enjoy each other’s company.
Sweet times.
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