All three of my sons — the human ones, that is — are excellent athletes. Football, basketball, baseball . . . I’ve gotten a huge kick watching them play over the years. I’ve also coached tons of their youth sports teams, and it would be fair to say that, as much as anything, sports is the glue that binds us together.
But the one thing my hypercompetitive sons have never wanted to share with me are the recreational sports — the ones where you don’t keep score. In other words, the ones that aren’t really sports, my sons would insist. Kayaking? Yeah, right. Biking? See you later. Hiking? Good one, Dad.
And at first blush, in what looked like a cruel twist of fate, it seemed my fourth son — the four-legged one — was cut from the same cloth. Ricky, like the other three, isn’t a big walker, either. If we go out the door and don’t head directly for the car (car rides he loves!), he’ll jam on the brakes. Sorry, Charley. Even on beautiful nature walks in lush, inviting surroundings, he’s a balky, reluctant partner, constantly doing 180’s in his never-ending struggle to head back to the barn.
But if we shift the hiking into a higher gear, if we choose a harder trail, if we add a little challenge to the enterprise, he becomes The Little Beagle Who Could. On these more demanding routes, all it takes are a few words of encouragement from me — okay, a treat every couple hundred yards doesn’t hurt, either — and he’s merrily bouncing along, ears jiggling in tune with his stride, like a regular Cherokee tracker. Once he gets going like this, there’s no stopping him. As I mentioned in a previous post (“MVP Performance,” January 5), the tougher the turf, the better he likes it. Fallen tree trunks? Tangled vines? Rushing streams? Rickety bridges? Massive boulders? Bring it on!
And the slower I get, the more assertive Super Beagle becomes. He’ll eagerly take over the lead and confidently blaze the trail. But if he gets too far ahead, I’ll always notice him glancing back, to see how the big guy who carries the food is doing.
So I guess, athletically speaking, I’m covered. If I want to watch Heat vs. Mavs, I have Robby or Greg or Matt. But when it comes to a hardcore walk in the woods, it’s Ricky every time.
Leave a Reply