An excerpt from In a Dog’s World. If you’d prefer, you can start with Chapter 1, return to the previous chapter, or skip ahead to the next chapter.
The second day of hiking was much the same as the first: hard work and drudgery, dragging one paw after another for hours on end. By the end of the day, however, the protein-pasta tasted pretty good. The group was getting more comfortable together, and the conversation at meal times flowed more easily.
When they finished the double batch of pasta they’d cooked up for that night’s dinner, Howell was still a little hungry, but he wasn’t sure if he should open another whole package of pasta. One comment led to another, and pretty soon Howell was boasting to the other three that he could eat a whole pound of protein-pasta all by himself. They made him eat his words. And the pasta!
Katasha wasn’t sure, but, while they were all laughing, she thought she saw Howell looking at her in a way that made the fur down the back of her spine tingle. There was a playful tension there that, at least, gave her hope that the warmth she’d felt for him at prom hadn’t been entirely one-sided. Yet, she didn’t understand what was stopping him. If he liked her, and he seemed to, then why was he keeping his distance? Was he embarrassed that he liked a cat? He’d said he dated one before, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be embarrassed about it.
On the third day, the forested hillsides gave way to rocky outcroppings, sloping downward toward a cavern housing a lake. The path wasn’t as clear. Among the trees, the path was well-trodden, easily visible by the lack of undergrowth and smoothed over, beaten-down soil. Jumbles of rock didn’t leave such clear signs, and, at one point in the day, Katasha lost sight of Claire. Howell and Jimothy, as usual, were way ahead of both of them.
Alone among the outcroppings, Katasha hiked onward through the summer heat as best she could. Here and there, she stumbled, losing her footing when her paws slipped on rubble. After an hour or two of hiking on alone, Katasha found herself back at the scooped out valley where they’d all eaten lunch earlier.
Ready to cry from exhaustion, Katasha collapsed on the ground, her heavy backpack still strapped to her. She toppled awkwardly over to one side. She stayed sitting on the ground like that until Jimothy finally returned for her.
“Howell said you must’ve gotten lost,” Jimothy said. “Here,” he said, holding a paw out toward her, “Let me carry your pack. We’ll move faster that way.”
Katasha was too angry to be embarrassed this time. She twisted herself out of the straps on her backpack, and shoved the heavy thing toward Jimothy.
Mirabelle had explained the system on the bus: no hiker was supposed to get so far ahead that he lost sight of the next hiker after him. Katasha wouldn’t have gotten lost if they’d followed that system. If Howell, Jimothy, and even Claire had waited for her, she wouldn’t have wasted an hour of energy hiking backwards. It wasn’t her fault that she couldn’t hike as fast as them, but it certainly was their fault that they couldn’t be troubled to wait for her.
Nonetheless, Katasha’s righteous indignation burned itself out with exhaustion as she retread her pawsteps from that morning. The blazing summer sun didn’t help, and by the time she and Jimothy caught up with Howell and Claire, her desire to thoroughly chew them out had fizzled. She settled for grumpily turning her back on them all as they rehydrated and heated meat pies for dinner.
When the meat pies were ready, Katasha did join them. After all, she was hungry. However, her ears stayed clamped tightly against her head as she ate, and her tail twitched with a syncopated, angry rhythm. Katasha didn’t know if the long days of exertion were finally getting to her, if the meat pies were simply better than the pasta, or if freeze dried food tastes better when you’re angry. Either way, dinner tasted fantastic.
Howell was more careful about the pace he set on the fourth day. Apparently he’d learned his lesson. Though, Katasha couldn’t help but feel that she’d paid a much higher price for his lesson than he had. At least he had the decency to look like he felt guilty. Labradors are good at that.
Jimothy was impatient with the new pace at first. He could clearly have hiked faster, and his long, skinny legs looked like they were itching for a sprint. Unfortunately for Jimothy, Howell had possession of the maps, compass, and the only previous experience with the Sylva Canyon National Forest trails. Jimothy was forced to match his pace to Howell’s.
After the first few hours, the entire dynamic of the hike changed. Claire started singing “It’s Still Paw-Paw Music to Me,” and after less than a verse, Howell joined in with the bass parts. Jimothy rolled his eyes at them, but Katasha could see his short, whip-like tail wagging to the beat. Next up, Howell and Claire sang a beautiful duet of “Don’t Fall In Love With a Growler.” On the final note, their voices merged into one multi-tonal bay that hung in the wilderness air like a primal wolf’s howl.
Katasha was hopelessly jealous. Everything about Claire seemed enviable to her in that moment: her keening, canine voice that complemented Howell’s so perfectly; the tufts of long blue merle fur at the base of her adorably flipped over ears; and the slightly upturned curve of her long muzzle. Katasha wished fervently that she too were a dog, howling Paw-Paw songs like a primitive wolf.
She couldn’t have that wish, but she could sing with Howell. If she were brave enough. So, Katasha gathered her courage by nettling Jimothy: “You should sing, too,” she said.
Jimothy barked a nervous laugh. “Naw, I don’t think so. I don’t really sing.”
Howell and Claire were now singing the theme from “New Hound on the Block.” It had a good hiking rhythm, and Katasha knew the lyrics. No one her age could possibly avoid knowing them. “Tell you what,” Katasha said, casting her blue-eyed gaze teasingly at Jimothy, “I’ll sing too. Then you’ll be the only one who isn’t singing.”
Steeling her courage, Katasha began swishing her tail to the beat, and when they hit the next chorus she added her voice in to the mix. Jimothy shook his head, smiling through his wiry beard. He still wasn’t singing, but teasing him had made Katasha feel less embarrassed about starting to sing herself.
Besides, Jimothy seemed to enjoy Katasha teasing him. She wasn’t entirely sure, for herself, whether she was teasing Jimothy to make Howell jealous, or if, maybe, she was starting to really like this stiff, serious dog. He wasn’t as silly and playful as Howell, but when he did smile… Jimothy’s face lit up like festival lights.
They reached the edge of the small canyon at midday. It would have been a good time to stop for lunch, but Howell suggested that they push on a little longer.
“If we can get down the side of the canyon,” he said, “we can eat lunch at the edge of the lake.”
“Swimming!” Claire barked.
Howell grinned. “You know, there’s a water-scramball team at Isleywood. It’s a lot of fun.”
“I don’t think so,” Jimothy said. “Swimming’s not for me.”
Claire, however, was very interested. Apparently, she had played water-scramball in high school. Yet another thing that she and Howell had in common. Katasha grumbled, but no one noticed. They were used to her feline grumbling.
As soon as the group finished scrambling down the steep ledges at the edge of the canyon, Howell and Claire dropped their packs, shed the outer layers of their clothes, and took off for the lake.
“I guess we’re making lunch,” Jimothy said.
“Guess so,” Katasha said.
While Claire and Howell splashed about in the glittering, sapphire pool, Jimothy and Katasha rooted through the packs, trying to find something palatable and easy. The two of them ended up mashing some flash-cooked pseudo-eggs, dicing up some jerky to mix in, and fixing it all up into some extremely tasty sandwiches. Though, Katasha had her doubts about how palatable they’d have been anywhere other than four days into a weeklong backpacking trip.
Claire and Howell came back from the lake, dripping wet and exhausted. They were grateful for the food. Although they each tried to shake out the water, their fur would take a while to fully dry out, even in the hot summer sun.
“Aren’t you two hot?” Claire asked.
Katasha and Jimothy looked at each other. In all honesty, Katasha was burning up in the blazing sunlight. She missed the shade of the forest from earlier in their trip.
“You really won’t swim?” Howell said.
Jimothy shook his head. Katasha wasn’t sure what his reason was, but she certainly didn’t relish the idea of wet fur, especially out in this wilderness. She could see the dust and dirt clinging to the damp fur on Howell’s legs. She felt dirty enough after four days hiking. She felt no desire to turn her fur into a dust magnet by wetting it down. She shook her head too.
“Well,” Howell said, “I guess there are other ways to cool off.” He held out a yellow paw and pointed one blunt, black claw across the lake to the higher ledge of the canyon. On that side, the ledge sloped upward to a minor mountain peak. The very top was iced with snow.
“That looks steep,” Claire said.
“It is,” Howell said. “I climbed it last year. It takes about an hour to hike from here to the top and back.”
Jimothy stared at the snow-topped peak seriously. Then his face lit up like festival lights again. “I’m game,” he said, turning to Katasha. “Let’s go make snow cones.”
Katasha twisted one ear to the side.
She could feel a slight, pleasant breeze from across the lake. It did look steep, but she was surefooted. “All right,” she said. “Let’s empty out a pack, and maybe we can bring some of the snow back down with us.”
“That’s the spirit!” Howell said. He grabbed Katasha’s pack — the smallest — and upended it. The contents poured out on the ground. “Bring us down some dessert!” Then, flopping out on his back, Howell put his paws behind his head. “Meanwhile, I’m going to take a nap.”
Claire also declined to join their expedition to the summer snow. She preferred to do more swimming. Katasha couldn’t fathom why.
There’d be a swimming pool at Isleywood; there wouldn’t be snow.
Jimothy took the empty pack, and Katasha set off hiking by his side. The first part of the hike, around the edge of the lake, was easy. When they started to scale the steep ledge on the far side, Katasha’s smaller size and limber body quickly became an advantage.
She scrambled nimbly from one protruding rock to the next, digging in her retractable claws to get good holds. She was able to move much more quickly here than Jimothy with his blunt canine claws, but she made sure never to get too far ahead.
As they made it further and further up the rock face, the lake grew smaller beneath them. Claire was swimming laps around it. Howell looked like he was still asleep.
Finally, Katasha clambered over a rock, and when she got to the other side, her paw pads crunched on snow. Cold shot through her feet. It was painful yet exhilarating.
She crouched down on the far side of the rock, and combed her claws through the glittering, white snow. She traced swirling, concentric patterns. Then she shoved her paws deeply into the snow and pushed a mound of it together. Patting it down, rounding it out, she formed the mound into a snowball as quickly as she could manage. Then she turned, still ducked behind the large rock she’d climbed over to get there and waited for Jimothy.
Continue on to Chapter 13…