Feb 22 2010
Should You Take Your Dog on a Contemplative Hike?
Skillet, our 3-year-old Jack Russell. That's right, she's NOT a puppy anymore (but she has a permanent puppy mug).
A few years ago my family and I brought home an adorable white little Jack Russell Terrier puppy to become part of our household. It wasn’t the first dog I ever owned in my life, but it had been at least five years since I lived with one. Back when I was married to my first husband we had a very assertive Rat Terrier named Hans who was horrible on walks—he would pull and tug and spin around as if he was constantly frustrated by my inability to run everywhere like he wanted me to. I hardly ever took him hiking, but it wasn’t because of his bad leash skills, it was more because back then I didn’t hike all that much. Long before Hans, I had a medium brown poodle named Neptune my parents got me when I was 12, who sadly hardly ever left his little corner of the yard where he was tied up most of the time in the summer. I lived in Michigan then, and didn’t even know what the word “hike” meant.
A lot of people in Colorado get big, friendly dogs they can hike or backpack with, like Retrievers or Labs. But not me. I love small, short-haired and comically willful dogs like Rat and Jack Russell Terriers. When we brought home my Jack Russell that we named Skillet, I imagined being able to go on my morning runs with her and take her hiking all the time. I wanted a companion who was always in the mood for a little exercise. For the most part, this has been the case. Skillet is an awesome dog. She’s intelligent, sensitive to our moods, and obedient about everything except staying by our side off-leash. She’s a terrier, and one with a very highly developed drive to hunt down small, rodent-like prey like rabbits, mice, voles and squirrels. Because of this instinct, we can’t take her leash off when we go walking or hiking. She’d be fine for the most part (she’s not a puller like my dog Hans was) but as soon as she’d spot a prairie dog or God forbid a rabbit, she’d be off and running. Nothing could stop her. No amount of cajoling or screaming panic could bring her back. The likelihood that she would keep chasing the animal without concern to distance, roads or cars, makes this an even more dangerous risk. Therefore, she’s relegated to being on leash when she’s outside on walks. Always.
This fact makes it a bit of a challenge to go on a contemplative hike with her. Even though she’s generally good on a leash, she does like to make suggestions. Let’s stop so I can smell this. That dog over there looks interesting, let’s go check him out. I don’t want to go over that stream. Can we go back now? I’m tired/hungry/cold. Does that person over there want to pet me? Let’s find out.
Instead of completely staying present to my surroundings and enjoying the hike in a mindful, relaxed manner, I find myself managing Skillet the way I would manage a small child. Wait, not so fast. Ok, let’s go. No, don’t sniff that. Ok, go poop and I’ll get the bag. Stay close. Don’t bother those people. We’re almost there, get a move on.
What makes things even worse is when we encounter dogs with what professional trainers call “leash aggression.” These dogs, for some reason, hate the idea that my dog is on a leash when they’re running around loose. Several times and on several different trails along the Front Range, Skillet and I have been minding our own business when a dog ambles over and quickly goes from friendly to curious to aggravated to vicious. Within seconds, I’m pulling Skillet up into my arms while the dog’s owner runs over to restrain their snarling companion. Sometimes these owners don’t even realize their dogs are capable of such behavior, and I’m assured that their beloved dog is “friendly” just seconds before it attempts to sink its teeth into Skillet. There’s one off-leash German Shephard mix that I’ve encountered in the open space across the street from my house that has terrified me so much with his snarls and barking that I often opt not to walk my dog there at all. Once last summer, even as this crazy dog was launching onto my dog, its owner tried assuring me that he’s “never bit anyone.” I had to remind this guy that it wasn’t me I was worried about, but my dog, whom once again I had to scoop up and protect like a load of sausages from a hungry predator.
These are all reasons why I’m a bit biased about the question of whether or not a person should take their dog on a contemplative hike. My gut reaction is no, you should not. Dogs are distracting, not only to the owner, but to others who are trying to hike in peace and privacy and don’t want Rover coming up and sniffing their crotch or jumping up to lick their chin, thank you very much. But that’s based on my own experience with my own dog. I imagine what it would be like if I had a dog who was completely loyal and calm and never bothered anyone else or their dogs, and wasn’t tempted by birds and squirrels on a trail. I imagine what it would be like if my dog was completely reliable and always, and I meant always, came on command. If I had that kind of dog, and if I were on a trail on a day of the week that had low foot traffic, then I would take my dog with me. After all, dogs are nature, too. They can teach us a lot about presence and mindfulness and focus. They can be comforting and protective. They can add to our experience as opposed to taking something away from our experience.
If you have a dog like that, that’s wonderful. If you feel that your dog is not a hindrance to quiet, contemplative time in nature, then you should take him along whenever you feel like it. But if you find yourself monitoring your dog more than enjoying its company, or worrying about what other people’s dogs are going to do around your dog, then I suggest you leave Rover at home this time. There are many different kinds of hikes you can go on. Alone-time hikes, dog hikes, challenge-your-body hikes, romantic hikes and decompress hikes. Next time you can take your dog.
Not every hike has to be a contemplative hike, nor should it be. Sometimes you just want to get out, stretch your legs, exercise your dog and have a good heart-to-heart conversation with your friend or spouse while hiking. You don’t want to contemplate anything. You want to laugh, or vent, or just gossip or talk politics while you get your cardio time in. That’s a great time to bring your dog along and let him enjoy the trail, too.
[...] am guessing the coyote wasn’t after me. He was after my little white dog. Another reason not to take your dog on a contemplative hike (ha ha! Although I was just out for exercise, not contemplation). In the future, I’ll be sure to [...]
[...] group, but then they saw mine. No one seemed bothered by my “no dogs” rule, either. (See my blog post regarding “Should You Take Your Dog on a Contemplative [...]