I Never Thought I’d See the Day . . .

I’m not sure how, or why, it happened.  That two weeks ago was my birthday?  That it was Thanksgiving weekend — and this was part of the family spirit?  Was there a full moon?

On Saturday, I said to everyone, as I often do, “I’m taking Ricky on a hike to Snout Hook* tomorrow.  Anyone want to go?”

This is kind of a standing joke.  Nobody in my family has ever said yes to this question.  I don’t even really listen for an answer.  My wife

would rather be on hold with the doctor’s office listening to “Song Sung Blue” for 45 minutes than go on a hike.  And my three sons?  As I described in an earlier post (“My Son the Hiker,” June 1), if you can’t keep score, forget it.  In other words,  football si, hiking no.

So when Greg, my middle son, said, “Yeah, I’ll go,” they had to peel me off the floor.  And then Matt, the oldest, added, “I’ll probably go,

too.”

Wow.

I’d often bragged to the rest of the family that Ricky, normally a reluctant walker at best, becomes an enthusiastic trail-blazer when we hike in the woods.  I’d told them

about the rock faces we scale, the streams we ford.  I’d told them we do the red trail — most difficult — and that Ricky attacks it like a trooper.

Now Ricky and I had to walk the walk.

We started out — Ricky and I, Matt, Greg, and Kelly (Greg’s girlfriend) — on the slow side.  No matter how briskly Ricky moves when he gets into the rhythm, he always take a little coaxing to get started.  I’d warned the others of this.

But once we got going, my sturdy little beagle performed as advertised.  Even better.  As usual, Ricky drew his throng of admirers, and after allowing these strangers to pet and fuss over him, he’d try to keep up with them.  He also befriended a frisky German Hovawart named Beamish, and sprinted along at his speedy pace — nose to butt — for a nice chunk of time.  Bottom line:  We completed the loop in an hour-ten — about 15 minutes faster than our norm.  The boys were impressed.  The terrain was tougher than they’d anticipated, and they were amazed that Ricky the Beagle could do it.  I was proud.

For the rest of Sunday afternoon, the humans watched football.  Ricky snoozed.  He deserved it.

*  As you may remember, I use “Snout Hook” in place of the nature preserve’s actual name, which happens to rhyme with Snout Hook, so that the area does not become overrun by my millions of followers.

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