A Walk With the Two Greatest Dogs on the Planet

It’s been two years . . . maybe three, since I wrote a new “Travels With Maggie”, dating back to when I left the writers’ site, HubPages, back when more than ten people read my articles, might have skyrocketed, on a good day, to twenty, dare I say twenty-five, oh the hubris of us all, grand thinkers every one of us.

Let’s dust off the cobwebs and take a walk.  You can find us, most days, where the pavement ends and the wonders begin, down at the end of the road . . .

Bev and Toby joined us on this day, the tenth of frozen dreams, 2024, grab a quick coffee at Madres Espresso, a shout out to Ashleigh and Kiley serving us this day, genuine smiles, the joy of youth, futures lie ahead of them, more future than past, and it’s hard to remember when that was so in my life.

Ten minute drive to the trail head, Western Chehalis Trail, to be exact, as the clouds lower upon us, moisture fills the air, any chance of staying warm, despite two coats, escape from us in a plume of cold breath.

Windstorm last night, the trail looking like the aftermath of July 4^th, broken limbs replacing discarded fireworks, the shrapnel of nature littering the ground, and to the north, and the south, barely a human to be seen, which says much about the quality of the day.  But the dogs don’t much care, consistent since they were pups, they’re just happy to be with their humans, leash or no leash, the bond formed six years ago with Maggie, four with Toby, as strong today as ever, and looking at them, their faces expectant, treats in the pocket their quest, I am reminded, once more, how much I love these two canine companions.

I don’t know if you have ever noticed, surely I have, may be the same with cats, but dogs can tell good vs bad, some sense we are not privy to, or not trained to recognize, but I trust Maggie and Toby completely when it comes to their appraisal of any human we come across.  Perhaps using the words good and bad is unfair; perhaps not; but I have seen, far too many times, Maggie befriend one stranger, but shy away from another, almost hostile, and I don’t have any explanation for it other than my girl reading the good energy, or the bad, emanating from that humanoid.

Toby, the same, and it’s really noticeable with Toby because he’s like the Goodwill Ambassador of the dog world.

So yes, I do trust my dog’s instincts, their ability to read the energy waves, and it leaves me to wonder if perhaps our great, great, great, great, great, keep going, great ancestors had that ability, to read the energy of man, to read the energy of the Earth, to learn it well or die young.  Native Americans spoke of it, specifically spiritual energy, helping mankind to maintain balance, for without balance, in all things, bad energy would infect their lives.

Just something to think about, as I have.

“Some men see things as they are, and ask why,” famous words from a long-dead politician, and they certainly describe me, probably Bev more so, we are both curious about things, how they work, what makes this planet function, billions of disparate parts and yet functioning as a whole, pretty special if you ask me, which you didn’t, but the dogs look at me with expectation and admiration, and that’s all that matters to me.

“I see things that never were, and ask why not,” same dead politician, the same call to action, why not energy emanating from each of us, why not energy emanating from all living things, and bundle all of that energy into what we call life, and you begin to understand why the Earth is struggling a bit right now.  There’s some bad mojo in the air, just ask Maggie and Toby, they feel it, deep down in their DNA, from before their births, from before the births of their parents, back to the Day of the Wolf, understand the smell of the wind or die, a pretty simple credo to live by, and on these walks they remind me just how close they are to those ancient ancestors, for DNA never fails us.

I think of my father, long dead, and how he would have thought such contemplation is silly, a waste of man’s time, just get up, go to work, eat a meal or two, and go to bed, again a pretty simple credo to live by, except he didn’t live long, perhaps that credo of his needed some fine-tuning, and perhaps, as mentioned before, the DNA never fails us, always the purveyor of truth.

The trees are bare, mostly alders, soaking up the soil’s moisture, white/gray trunks, common around marshes and lakes and water-soaked gullies, and behind them the evergreens, stately, always wearing their green finery, the firs, the pines, the Western Reds, all basking in a background of gray, for January, more often than not, means gray clouds, thick and thin, as far as the eye can behold.  Red barns dot small farms, cattle all pointed in the same direction, a herd of sheep, always chickens, and overhead Canadian Geese confused by the cold snap, thinking maybe they should have gone further south for this winter . . . but DNA never fails us, and you gotta dance with the cowboy who brung ya.

Cold fingers, cold toes, cold nose, all signal it’s time to turn around, shortly coming upon a couple, man and woman, Maggie wags her tail, shuffled over for a pat on the head, Toby does the same, and I think, to myself, those are people I trust.

If a man can’t trust his dog in these matters, who can he trust?

Thank you for joining us on this walk.  Flag us down next time you see us out and about, maybe join us. We will always be in search of the wonders, where the pavement ends.