Last Monday Geoff and I were at my favourite coffee shop, deeply into our coffees and working out solutions to the world's problems.
In walked Roger, in search of his usual morning coffee and bagel.
He told me he'd just come from walking Kona, then remarked, “Saw you drive by the other day when I was walking with X. I told her we’d met dog-walking and she said, “I met him too. He’s the guy who told me to put my dog on a leash.”
I was astonished and immediately denied it; I don’t tell people to leash their dogs, especially as I walk behind the airport specifically so I can let Eli, who has his own behaviour problems, off-leash.
Roger said her dog was small and hyperactive, and then the penny dropped: I had undoubtedly asked her to hold on to her dog as we went past, because I almost always do when we meet strange dogs.
That's not because I worry about Eli so much as I worry that he will attack if approached incorrectly. These days, at 14, he's not really into taking on other dogs, but he remains a husky-cross, initially raised as a pack dog, with both husky standards of deportment and a firm belief in the adage that that the best defense is a good offense.
Past experience tells me I have no reason to trust him around most other dogs, and fellow dog-walkers who shout cheerfully as they approach, “Don't worry; he's friendly!” really don't understand dogs of Eli's type. So I leash him and ask them to hold on to their dogs before we can go by.
Roger thinks Eli is beautiful, which he is, and that he's very friendly. But that's because he hasn't met the other Eli.
The first time they met, Kona, also a husky-cross although much heavier and darker, instinctively knew exactly how to approach, without even a hint of aggression. Eli took to him almost immediately, and the deal was sealed when he discovered Roger carried little treats in his pocket. Now he bounds ahead to meet them when our times on the trails coincide.
By now Eli and I have a long history. I met him first in Yellowknife when he was just over a year old. Robin and Mike had rescued him from the vet's compound, where he and at least one sibling had been abandoned. They chose him because he instantly took to them and because his feet were bleeding from his escape attempts. By the time we visited he'd already exhibited serious abandonment issues, still wasn't socialized with other dogs very well, but was lovely around people. They knew they would have a job training him.
Then they came back to Campbell River. Robin returned to UBC, and Mike started his apprenticeship here. Eli needed exercise, I enjoyed his companionship for my walks, and so we started exploring together.
Initially, we walked in the Beaver Lodge Lands. I tried him off-leash. He scrapped with a couple of dogs and tossed at least one small one. Their owners tended to be unamused, and I was really worried he'd do damage.
A couple of times he'd go cruising, and I wouldn't see him for as long as 30 minutes. One time he even abandoned me and found his way back to our place independently.
Even I could see this wasn't going to work. And I didn't consider leashed walks a real option.
So we began to explore logging roads in the area, which are numerous, accessed readily if on foot, and feature almost no dogs.
They do, however, feature abundant wildlife, and I soon learned to appreciate his ability to flush all manner of wildlife: he’d disappear into the bush and, as I continued walking, suddenly an animal or two would dart across the road ahead of me, occasionally with Eli in hot pursuit.
He apparently already knew it was pointless to follow them very far.
Normally when one walks the back roads, the area wildlife knows enough to stay away; because of my walking companion, however, I regularly saw large birds, grouse, eagles, vultures; deer pretty much every time; bears regularly, including two substantial cubs which he treed within range of my camera; and the pièce de résistance, on a trail near the headwaters of Black Creek, a whole herd of elk, with Eli proudly urging them on from a safe distance in the rear.
He also regularly managed to flush rodents, including hundreds of rabbits, several mink, a few weasels, and what I think was my first and only martin. Occasionally rabbits and rats wouldn’t escape, and he’d either bring me his catch or I’d see him dispatching the animal. Like his brother wolves, he kills rodents by pouncing on them with his front feet, then tosses the stunned animal into the air. According to Robin he’d learned this by accompanying a more experienced dog in Yellowknife, hunting and killing muskrats.
Speaking of wolves, one time we were high on a road at the base of Mt Washington in the snow. Eli had gone cruising, and I was following the tracks of a 4X4 that had gone up the road earlier. On his way down the driver stopped and said, “Careful! I've just seen a wolf.”
“There aren't wolves here, are there?”
He assured me there were. Just then a bedraggled Eli trotted up, looking, except for the collar, every inch the wolf.
Just for the record, I’ve never seen a wolf in this area, or even tracks, and recent reports of one spotted on the sand hills just behind the airport probably means someone has seen Eli!
Anyway, I've carried bear spray for years, not because I'm particularly worried about Eli around bears, but because I want to be prepared if there really are wolves. Or aggressive pitbulls, which in our experience is a lot more likely.
Or cougars. These are definitely to be found in our area as one frequently sees their tracks in the sand or the snow. However I’d never seen one while walking with Eli until last summer, when we came upon two young ones, sunning themselves just behind the airport. Happily we were approaching the car and Eli was already on leash, although these days he isn’t much up to either cruising or pursuing other animals. In fact, I’m not positive he even saw them.
These days we’re just two old guys, daily walking briskly or wheezing along our usual routes behind the airport.
I’m really going to miss him when he’s gone.
