Trigger's Reflections

( A Sample Chapter From "Dog Packing in National Parks")

My person says she goes to places like Yosemite and the Grand Canyon for the VIEWS, but it’s hard for a dog to understand how she could be looking so far in the distance when there are so many things up close and personal to explore.

I have seen lots of animals near where I live- horses, deer, elk, squirrels, chipmunks, rabbits, turkeys; I thought I had seen them all. But when I was on my pack trip in Yosemite I saw the fattest, ugliest cat I have ever seen. Mom said it wasn’t a cat, it was a MARMOT. It sat there, kept on eating, and just watched me go by. I didn’t mean it any harm, but at least it could have looked worried.

Then there are those little critters that are all over the meadows (Belding ground squirrel). They just pop up out of the ground or sit on top of rocks and whistle at me as I go by; I mean, really!

I heard one in the ground under a big rock; and while I had my nose in its burrow it came out from behind the rock, climbed up on top of it, and was looking down on me! Mom said that looked pretty funny, and I think they were just as curious about me as I was about them.

She knows how I hate leashes. One morning we were on a potty walk and I wanted to play. I shook my leash so hard that my collar came off. (Yes, I can slip my collar, but I hardly ever do. Mom says it’s a good idea in case I ever get in a tight spot and she’s not there to help me.) Anyway, I caught the collar in my mouth, stayed pressed by her side, and spit (as best as dogs can spit) it out in her hand. “This is what I think of leashes.” I was trying to say. Mom laughed, and said I was a CHARACTER, but put the collar and leash back on me. She said she still trusted me, but it was a people thing, and I was lucky to be there with a leash.

But once we were struggling up this very rocky and steep (3000 feet in about five miles) trail, and into a series of steep, tight switchbacks. It was hard for me to get traction on the smooth boulders, especially with the weight I was carrying. I would come to the end of my leash and slip backward before I could find a level spot. We were both getting pretty tired and discouraged. I needed to scramble and Mom needed to go slow and careful. It was my job to get her up the trail, and I wasn’t doing too well. Finally she realized that if we were going to get to the next camp safe and sound, and before dark, we were going to have to do something different. So she folded my leash, tied it to my pack and sent me ahead of her the way I usually do, going up hill. Then I didn’t get so tired and could turn to encourage her with a wag of my tail and a smile, “C’mon, you can do this.” And she did!

The mules in the Grand Canyon haven’t seen too many dogs and I’m supposed to hide if I can, when we see them coming. Once, when we saw the mules coming there was no place for me to hide close to the trail. The only possible place for me to go was down into a steep ravine between two legs of a tight switchback. Mom couldn’t go down there with me, but she tied my leash to my pack and sent me down, putting me on a “down stay” with a hand signal. The mules, not more than ten feet above, surrounded me as they made their way around the switchback. I was worried, but I didn’t move until Mom called me up out of the ravine after all the mules had passed. Some of the people on the mules told mom what a good dog I was, and I got treats when I came up. It’s not too bad when the mules keep moving, but I really get nervous when they all stop and stare at me. (See Chapter Seven)

Everywhere we went, the camp staff had heard about me from the park service, and they wanted to meet me. People we passed said, “Hi Trigger, how are you?” Some of them missed their pets at home and wanted to pet me. I made a special friend with Laura, ten years old, who wanted to give me her bacon from breakfast. Mom let her give me my breakfast outside that morning, and take me for a little walk around the camp. Laura missed her Golden Retriever. Mom said I had become a CELEBRITY. They called her “Mrs. Trigger” and “Trigger’s Mom,” but she didn’t care. She said I was a good AMBASSADOR for what we were doing.

We got the weirdest question from a man we met when we were on the trail coming down from Wheeler Peak in Great Basin National Park. He looked at me and asked my Mom: “Is he something special, or just a mutt?” I know I’m special, because Mom tells me so; but I don’t know what it means to be a mutt. Mom said I was most likely a shepherd mix, and she said, “And yes, he’s something special!”