Old dog, New tricks

14 01 2013

Nothing like another night-time cross country ski adventure to get us out of the house for date-night. Some girls get fancy for their man with a little black dress, I get layered up in little black long-johns. Let’s hit the trails!

Tonight was extra special – our first cross country ski trip with our new mutt, Simba. We had no idea how he would act or if it would work out at all, but he really loves the snow and going bye-bye so we figured it was worth a shot.

I learned a few things out there tonight.

As soon as we unloaded our gear at the trailhead, we discovered J’s headlamp was out of juice. The moon was just a sliver, so he was alone in the dark. Then he said, “Don’t worry, I’ve got the dog. Let’s go!” I indignantly huffed across the ice-sheet-of-death parking lot, pouting. Simba is MY dog, he loves ME the most, I can do everything by mySELF and don’t need ANYONE’s help, and Simba’s first real trip out should be with ME.

Simba and J slid past and over the lip of the trail as I gloated behind them that I had a working headlamp. I hit the lip of the trail behind J, slid gracefully up about 6 inches, then gracefully back 6 inches – enough to throw me off balance. J turned around just in time to see me “gracefully” face-plant. Good thing I have elbows or I probably would have lost a few teeth on that one.

Ok, Karma, I get it. I discovered I need to check myself before I wreck myself. Be nice, Kalista.

I finally heaved myself up onto the trail with mighty help from my poles, and off we went. The trail was pretty nasty; we haven’t had new snow in quite a while, and warm temps last week didn’t help any. Just to be clear, I’m a total train wreck in broad daylight – night skiing is a whole new adventure. Throw in a mega-excited dog and things just got REAL up in here! (Sorry, I’ll never say that again.) I timidly struck out, wobbling a bit and trying to find the tracks that didn’t appear to exist. I heard a peal of laughter and looked up to shine light on what was happening.

The weak illumination of my headlamp just caught them before they were beyond my Circle of Light, J with his poles held high, Simba pulling his load down the trail like his life depended on it. This is where I discovered my dog suffers from multi-personality disorder or is possibly in the midst of a severe identity crisis. This isn’t too surprising considering his background. First, he thinks he’s a hound dog – nose to the ground, trotting along a set of prints, stopping to investigate that extremely fascinating chunk of ice for 5 solid minutes. Now, at the end of a leash attached to J, he thinks he’s a sled dog – head held high, ears back for aerodynamics, tail (what little there is) straight out in sheer joy.


The laughter had come from J. I glided along behind the duo, barely able to control myself as I watched the scene before me. Simba acted as though this was the greatest thing to ever happen to him. J giggled like a 14-year-old school girl as Simba ran side to side, then darted out front again to yank J down trail. We decided to turn around when my light started waning, and I braced myself for the slippery downhill slopes we faced. J turned around and cruised along until Simba decided to go straight ahead again. The couple zoomed out of my light, Simba aided by the slope. I couldn’t tell if J was squealing or laughing. When I caught up, he had the silliest grin on his face.

“That’s a wild ride when I can’t see where we’re going or what’s ahead of me!” I suppose it was a good thing for him to have the dog and not me. I probably would have died, cartwheeling down the trail, breaking every bone and ski and pole. I discovered J can be a bigger mess than me, can giggle like a cast member of Glee, and is usually looking out for me.

The hot chocolate waiting in the Thermos in the car was delicious, even though we could only manage a victory sip without scorching our entire digestive system. Simba ate his dinner at home and immediately passed out. All in all, a great way to spend a Monday evening.

And I guess all 3 of us old dogs learned a thing or two.





2 responses

16 01 2013
Stacie Chadwick

You are a BADASS!

7 02 2013

Ah, how did I miss your comments?! So sorry for over-looking, and THANKS! 😀

Give it to me straight -

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: