The Peripatetic Poodle has made it clear that he will not forgo any orographic conquests that would redound to his glory.
Recently we hiked up the small mountains on the east side of the Arkansas River valley, near Buena Vista, CO. An early start kept us cool in the shade, while off to the west the morning sun warmed a wall of Fourteeners.
You have to admire the pluck of a 12-year-old, miniature poodle, who scampered up the short, steep climb like a puppy. At the top he insisted on struggling with the last couple steps before officially signing in.
And here is his philosophy of quiet resignation to age:
We could read the poetry of William Blake to find inspiration about what happens when men and mountains meet. But that might mislead us into thinking that perspicuity on a mountain peak takes effort on our part.
I think it is more natural and automatic than that. You simply have to receive it.
On a peak even a dog looks down upon town and sees the petty clutter of daily life. Up here he is free to think over the big picture. Has he spent his life well? What is a dog's role in the Universe? Indeed it is true that...
...Great things happen
When dogs and mountains meet,
Which does not happen,
Sniffing butts in the street.
Poetic and philosophical inspiration notwithstanding, the little dog is still a creature of this earth, and holds onto his common sense. Time to get off this rock before another monsoon kicks up:
