feet together and kind of bouncy. First the front end bounces up and then the back end. Loping is like a horse galloping, but happier.
Iâm going to tell you right now, loping isnât as easy as it might appear. It takes a little while to get the hang of a good lope. In fact, a lope might be the sort of thing that works better on a long-legged animal. Not that my legs are short. A little undersized, maybe.
A few steps down the trail, I think Iâm getting the hang of it. My paws are flopping around like the big dogs I watch back in the city. Iâm leaping forward with each powerful thrust of my hind legs, and I can feel my tail flowing out behind me.
Then one of my front paws forgets to flop forward, and I stumble. I pretty near sprain an ankle and definitely eat some Yellowstone trail dirt. It tastes about as bad as you might think. Dustywith a strong aroma of dirt. And since this is a foot trail, it has just a hint of bottom-of-foot flavor.
Now, this is an experience I donât want to repeat, so I decide to take a break from loping and go back to skitteringâtemporarily.
The sun is just beginning to come up. The air is fresh and clean. Each puff of breeze brings a whiff of smells that are wild and new.
But something is missing. I try to think what it is. My dream is coming true but somehow something feels wrong.
Mona.
I stop. What will Mona think when she sees Iâve run off? A very bad feeling comes into my tummy, and for the first time in my life it isnât hunger. What about Mona, who brought me home when I was just a puppy and made me feel safe? Who will protect her on road trips? Who will look at photo albums with her and go for walks in the park?
In my mind I see Mona wandering all over Yellowstone calling my name.
I almost turn around right there and run back.
Almost.
Then I come to my senses. What am I thinking? I have a wolf family out there. Any dog with any pride at all takes his very first chance to join the wild pack and never looks back. He lives to hunt with the big boys. Mona can get a cat if she wants something that sleeps all day and never thinks about his wild side.
I go back to skittering and put all thoughts of Mona right out of my head.
After a while the trail ends at a big grassy meadow. There are smells of all sorts here. Most noses, of course, wouldnât be able to tell them apart.
I can tell that deer have used this meadow. My nose is assisted by the fact that there are piles of little black marbles lying all around that are too big for rabbit ⦠marbles.
I lope ⦠that is to say, I half skitter, half lope around the edge of the grassy meadow. I am looking and smelling for something. Deer smells are just fine when youâre looking for a deer. But Iâm after a different smell.
When I find it, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
I sniff the bush again. Yes! All wolves and theirdescendents leave their calling cards on bushes. Now itâs my turn to add my calling card to the stack.
Leaving a calling card is something dogs practice every day of their lives. Especially boy dogs. Itâs not an easy thing to explain. An animal without my mental toughness would probably get embarrassed by this explanation, but not me.
First, you lift up your leg. It doesnât matter which leg, exactly, but it should definitely be a back leg. Lift it up high, because the next part could get a little messy if you arenât careful.
Now balance, wait for it, and if everything is operating correctly, pretty soon youâll feel something like a tickle. Or maybe itâs more like an itch. No, itâs not a tickle or an itch, but it
is
a feeling. (I know this is getting complicated, but stay with me because weâre almost done.)
Then the last thing is to check behind yourself to make sure you aimed correctly. Thatâs it! This whole process leaves you feeling proud and puts an extra bounce in your lope. Everyone should try it. Ask any
Iâm going to tell you right now, loping isnât as easy as it might appear. It takes a little while to get the hang of a good lope. In fact, a lope might be the sort of thing that works better on a long-legged animal. Not that my legs are short. A little undersized, maybe.
A few steps down the trail, I think Iâm getting the hang of it. My paws are flopping around like the big dogs I watch back in the city. Iâm leaping forward with each powerful thrust of my hind legs, and I can feel my tail flowing out behind me.
Then one of my front paws forgets to flop forward, and I stumble. I pretty near sprain an ankle and definitely eat some Yellowstone trail dirt. It tastes about as bad as you might think. Dustywith a strong aroma of dirt. And since this is a foot trail, it has just a hint of bottom-of-foot flavor.
Now, this is an experience I donât want to repeat, so I decide to take a break from loping and go back to skitteringâtemporarily.
The sun is just beginning to come up. The air is fresh and clean. Each puff of breeze brings a whiff of smells that are wild and new.
But something is missing. I try to think what it is. My dream is coming true but somehow something feels wrong.
Mona.
I stop. What will Mona think when she sees Iâve run off? A very bad feeling comes into my tummy, and for the first time in my life it isnât hunger. What about Mona, who brought me home when I was just a puppy and made me feel safe? Who will protect her on road trips? Who will look at photo albums with her and go for walks in the park?
In my mind I see Mona wandering all over Yellowstone calling my name.
I almost turn around right there and run back.
Almost.
Then I come to my senses. What am I thinking? I have a wolf family out there. Any dog with any pride at all takes his very first chance to join the wild pack and never looks back. He lives to hunt with the big boys. Mona can get a cat if she wants something that sleeps all day and never thinks about his wild side.
I go back to skittering and put all thoughts of Mona right out of my head.
After a while the trail ends at a big grassy meadow. There are smells of all sorts here. Most noses, of course, wouldnât be able to tell them apart.
I can tell that deer have used this meadow. My nose is assisted by the fact that there are piles of little black marbles lying all around that are too big for rabbit ⦠marbles.
I lope ⦠that is to say, I half skitter, half lope around the edge of the grassy meadow. I am looking and smelling for something. Deer smells are just fine when youâre looking for a deer. But Iâm after a different smell.
When I find it, the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
I sniff the bush again. Yes! All wolves and theirdescendents leave their calling cards on bushes. Now itâs my turn to add my calling card to the stack.
Leaving a calling card is something dogs practice every day of their lives. Especially boy dogs. Itâs not an easy thing to explain. An animal without my mental toughness would probably get embarrassed by this explanation, but not me.
First, you lift up your leg. It doesnât matter which leg, exactly, but it should definitely be a back leg. Lift it up high, because the next part could get a little messy if you arenât careful.
Now balance, wait for it, and if everything is operating correctly, pretty soon youâll feel something like a tickle. Or maybe itâs more like an itch. No, itâs not a tickle or an itch, but it
is
a feeling. (I know this is getting complicated, but stay with me because weâre almost done.)
Then the last thing is to check behind yourself to make sure you aimed correctly. Thatâs it! This whole process leaves you feeling proud and puts an extra bounce in your lope. Everyone should try it. Ask any
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