Cutting straight up the side of the mountain, I yell out, "Brutus! Brutus!", but to little avail. A regular occurrence, it has become expected for my most loyal friend to take off up the side of a mountain with careless abandon at least once, each time we hike.
His favorite thing to do is to completely ignore me, running into the forest, and then about 15 minutes later be waiting for me further down the trail. What a fantastic game right.
I was familiar with this game and we'd done this same hike together dozens of times. Thus, undaunted, I trek on. Around each bend I expect to see a tired and content Husky mutt laying on the trail waiting for his ever so slow "master". I enjoy the scenery and the solitude for about 20 minutes then I begin to look around and call out, "Brutus! Brutus!" with increasing urgency. 5 more minutes pass and I am in a mild panic. My mind racing with possibilities. Is he sparring with a mountain lion or black bear, did he chase an animal too far and lose his way, did he hurt himself dashing and darting through the trees?
I turn and head back up the trail, thinking that possibly he is waiting further up and I traveled to far. My anxiety has made it impossible for me to walk at this point. I am running back up the trail, "Brutus! Brutus! Where are you, you dumb dog?" I sprint up and down a half mile area, thinking this to be the drop zone where he would exit the trees.
Okay, I stop to catch my breath, let's think for a second. Maybe he came out much further up the trail. Forget this half mile area, I decide to walk all the way back to where I left him.
Exhausted at this point, my sprint has turned into a jog/walk combination. My mind races. Oh, I'm the worst dog owner ever. I should of left him on a leash. I know he takes off like this, what was I thinking?
Just as my anxiety is reaching a peak. I see a familiar looking dog ahead on the trail. And he's on a leash?
I run up to a friendly couple maybe in there early forties. They have 3 dogs on leashes, one of them happier to see me then the other two. I put my thoroughly self satisfied dog on his leash and scratch behind his ear, I just can't stay mad at him, while I chat with the couple.
The woman explains, "We found him walking the trail alone, and couldn't get through to the number on his tag. So we put him on a leash and were going to take him back to Boulder" (the opposite way then where we were parked). "but", she continues, "he just laid down on the trail and refused to move. Eventually we decided okay let's walk the other direction. He seemed satisfied with that decision, and here we are running into you."
I'd rarely been so proud of Brutus. I guess my rebellious dog is loyal after all.
Numerous stories like this have been flowing through my mind over the past week.
Saturday May 5th, 2012 we took Brutus to a quiet spot by a gentle stream, surrounded by woods and wildlife. An empathetic veterinarian who is also friend of my brother met us there. Brutus was old and just not able to enjoy life like he used to. On our last day together he ate steak, and we slowly walked a level path through the woods, until he was so tired his legs were giving out. I laid with him on a blanket and as we watched the grazing deer pass by, we realized it was time. It was his time.
He was my dog, my friend, my family. We had him for 14 or 15 years, so long I can't remember which. Some may find that strange but it's the moments more so than the years that have meaning to me. He was a constant, always there, to go on a hike, to laze around, to listen. He was stubborn, he was independent, but he was also defiantly loyal, in some ways I suppose a reflection of me.
Vacant spaces now occupy his favorite areas. Physical and emotional places that are filled with memories of happiness, reflection, and loss.
I don't know what I've learned, or how to process this loss, but all I know at this point is I miss my friend. And hiking is a bit more lonesome these days.
