Tag: life

The Adventure Clock Strikes Seven

Wisdom from a Lucky Dog

Hello Friends!

So far this year, my Michigan woods have been dressed in fresh coats of white snow, coming and going like they can’t decide where to stay. Before it melts again, and before we forget all those New Year promises — I have an important announcement…this month, I celebrate SEVEN.

Seven winters exploring the West Michigan woods. Seven seasons chasing salmon upstream. Seven springs of hunting for wildflowers. Seven summers of splashing into Lake Michigan, belly rubs, zoomies, cuddles, and treats (so many treats)!

This year, I celebrate SEVEN amazing years with my hoomans. I will never forget the day I was brought home from Bellwether Harbor Animal Shelter. I was waiting with my litter sisters, my heart already packed and ready for a family. I was so unsure about the world back then – and somehow it feels like only yesterday.

My tail still thumps at the memory. I can’t believe how fast those years went by. Now that I’m older, I’m starting to understand more about time. The interesting thing about it is — it doesn’t slow down. In fact, it never stops!

Over the years, there have been plenty of trails, many lessons, and countless adventures. I don’t feel like an old dog yet, but something has changed. I can nap through the day when my hooman leaves for work. I’ve learned the important things — like I know the moment it is breakfast time. My eyes just pop open, and if the kibble is late – my patience is still optional. I’m braver too! The vacuum no longer terrifies me – though I still give it plenty of room, and I can jump off the boat into the big lake (read: Dog Overboard).

Now that I’m seven, I’m officially considered an adult. Not a young pupper anymore. I’m a seasoned explorer, with mud under my claws and a few good tails (see what I did there). In hooman years, I’m somewhere around my mid-40s to early 50s. That doesn’t make me sad — it just makes me aware. Time keeps moving.

And lately, I’ve noticed something about hoomans… they are OBSESSED with time. They try to chase it, pause it, they even count down the seconds, barking them out in a countdown 10…9…8…like the whole world depends on it. And then they make all kinds of promises: “We’ll hike more when it’s warmer,” or “We’ll explore when things slow down.”

But here’s the thing – things won’t really slow down. Now that I’m seven, I know I only get so many more winters. So many new trails. So many sunsets to stop and stare at before the light disappears.

After the howlidays, my hooman went back to work. Long mornings together turned into quick coffee sips and rushed goodbyes. Her boots still sit by the door, but the snow has long melted from them. I know when the routine changes, and I notice how the house feels quiet.

So yes, I pout a little. I curl up on the couch and look out the window. Some days the light fades, and I drift off to sleep, but I am always listening for the sound that could signal my next adventure. All this waiting has taught me something: time is not something you save. It is something you spend.

So friends, when our hoomans come home worn thin by the world, let’s meet them at the door with a wag that means business. Not “let’s rest,” but “let’s go.” Help them keep those New Year promises they made with big hearts and good intentions. Pull their eyes off the clock and back onto the trail, because too many adventures die on the calendar.

A short walk still smells like a whole forest. Ten minutes of fetch still feels like a celebration. A tired cuddle at the end of the day always fills my bowl. Give them a gentle nudge off the couch — not because time is running out, but because today is already here and it is waiting for us!

Now stop wasting time and get out there — your adventure is calling! 🐾

I’ll bark at you next month.

Your friend,

Falling Behind

Happy October Friends!

This is one of my favorite months. Mornings are cool on my paws, but by afternoon, the sunshine warms my coat. Big oaks shoot down acorns like pellet guns for eager squirrels, and evenings creep in early — often before I’ve finished my after-dinner patrol.

October is funny that way – both hurried and hushed. Weekends roar with visitors from the big town, cars piled high with apples, pumpkins, and hay bales, only for the streets to fall quiet again midweek. Farmers follow a different rhythm: fields grow inch by inch under patient hands, yet when harvest comes, their work bursts forward, rumbling through the night and leaving the morning air sharp and crisp. Time seems to stretch and snap back all at once.

With all this paradox swirling around me, I needed to curl up on my cushions and think this all through. As my mind began to drift, I could hear squirrels rustling nearby — some frantic, some leisurely — each with their own rhythm. Similar to the trees, that let go of their leaves in their own time.

All that slow-and-steady push and pull reminded me of when I trotted alongside my hooman in the Oktoberfest 5K. My first big race. I was so excited that I watered just about every tree in the park. The music thumped, the energy crackled, and I stood side-by-side with my pack, unsure what to expect. The countdown began: 3…2…1…GO!

Some hoomans shot out of the gate like greyhounds, their long legs eating up the track. Since I’m a terrier-beagle-blue-heeler kinda dog, my legs moved, but I wasn’t covering much ground. My hooman seemed fine with the racers ahead, and soon we settled into a steady jog.

As the miles went by, I noticed that some pups slowed to a walk, then picked up again once they caught their breath. No two strides looked the same. Hoomans on the sidelines barked, “Keep going!” and “You’re doing great!” — which made my tail wag. I realized then that we’re all in the race together, no matter the pace. Each of us found our own rhythm and our own way to finish. No one was “late” just because they weren’t leading the pack.

I think that is October’s lesson for us, too. It’s okay to move at our own speed. Not racing to keep up. Not holding back when we’re ready to leap. Just trusting our stride, savoring our season, and remembering that what’s right for me may not be right for the dog beside me.

So friends, as we wag our way into October, let’s not worry if we fall a bit behind. Instead, let’s take cues from Mother Nature and the racecourse. Trust that our pace is the right one. Some days bounding, some days strolling, sometimes paw-sing for a good sniff — but always remembering: the goal isn’t to keep up with the pack. It’s to enjoy the run, the season, and the moment. 🍂🐾

Thanks for trotting along on my canine adventures. I’ll bark back atcha in November!

Your friend, 

The Road Less Sniffed

Well friends, I did it. I went out on a limb and sniffed out a new adventure. I wasn’t sure at first. I double-backed a few times. The road less traveled can be uncertain. I’m used to going down my own path. I know all the twists and turns, where the roots are that have tripped me up. I know where the creek runs deep and where the current likes to tug at my paws. I’ve been taught to be careful, to stay on my side of the fence (unless no one’s watching, of course). So, the idea of stepping into the great unknown? A little scary… but also wildly exciting.

I felt like something was calling me—a bark in my heart that beckoned me to explore the unknown. So I started out slow. I kept looking over my shoulder to make sure the familiar wasn’t too far behind. In my head, I heard the voice of my hooman, cheering me on with that magical phrase she uses when I’m searching for my ball:
“Keep going!”

So I did.

Soon, I found myself alone in a whole new world. The creek began to change and looked drastically different. My belly was jumping like I’d swallowed a bowl of grasshoppers. What if I got lost? What if there were squirrels bigger than me? But curiosity tugged harder than fear. What if I discovered something brand new?

That’s when a flash of red zipped across my path—a scarlet tanager! I didn’t even know those birds lived around here. Its bright feathers were like a spark in the trees. Inspired, I forged ahead, tail high, paws steady.

Eventually, the forest opened up, and right before my eyes—was a luscious green meadow buzzing with dragonflies. My nose twitched, my tail wagged, and just as I ready to pounce on one of those ancient warriors… my ears perked. A sound. Could it be…?

Water.

I can never resist water.

I followed the squishy, muddy trail—my paws sinking deeper with each step—and that’s when I found it: a freshwater spring! Trickling down a slope of roots and rocks, cool and clear as a morning breeze. It was the best water I’ve ever tasted. No bowl could compare.

As I stood over the spring, my muzzle full of mud and belly full of refreshing water, I realized: if I hadn’t taken that first uncertain step… if I’d stayed in my comfort zone… I never would’ve found this delicious treasure.

Trying something new can be scary—but not trying? That’s even riskier. Because you’ll never know what’s out there unless you go sniff it out for yourself.

So friends, as we close out July and trot into August, let’s take the road less traveled. Try a new trail. Chase a new scent. Step beyond your fence line (only if no one’s watching, of course). You might discover something wonderful. You might even discover something in yourself.

And if you get a little lost? That’s okay. You can always find your way home.

I look forward to hearing about your new adventures. Stay cool, and I’ll bark at you soon.

Your friend,

Spring Breaks

Hello friends! 

It has been furever since my last adventure! My hooman had a setback a few months ago and needed some recovery time. So, my canine adventures were put on paws for a little while. When my hooman doesn’t feel well, it is my duty to sit by her side and supervise the healing process. My canine cure is to watch my hooman VERY closely and never let her out of my sight. So, to speed up the process, I sat ON her until she was well enough to go exploring. 

It wasn’t easy giving up my adventures and sticking by her side. I was tempted more than once to venture out without her, but I patiently waited (and waited and waited). Although it took longer than she originally promised, the day finally came when she got back on her feet, and I had the chance to get out exploring. I couldn’t wait to see what changes old man winter had made in my neck of the woods.  

As I trotted down my tree line trail for the first time in 3 months, my heart thumped with anticipation of what I would discover. I had forgotten how great it felt to have the cool mud squish between my toes and sniff the fresh smells of the pine and hemlock trees. Even though I’ve walked the path a thousand times before, the first hike of the season always fills me with wonder and excitement. Once I reached the bottom of the hill, the creek gurgled a familiar “hello” as the old oak trees seemed bowed down, welcoming me into the shadowy woods. I let out a breath that I didn’t realize I was holding. “Hello, creek”, I whispered. “It is good to see you again”. 

Isn’t it amazing how returning to a familiar place can bring you back to vivid memories with all the feelings to match? Every step I took echoed a memory of past adventures. Like the time when my nephew Disco saw the creek for the first time and the joy I felt that he liked my creek as much as I do. Or the day I discovered a red-tailed hawk’s feather, and the awe of knowing that such a cool bird lives in the same woods I get to explore. So many thoughts and emotions filled my heart. I really missed this place, and I could not believe I went so long without it. 

I wondered past my thinking log, where so many times I have contemplated many of life’s challenges. I trotted past the dog brushing station (still littered with my old dog hair), and warm thoughts of my hooman caring for me filled my heart. I ducked under the frog tree, now sloping into the water and groping at the river bank. The familiarity of knowing I will discover a tree frog clinging to it on summer days gives me hope for warmer days to come. I thought of my hoomans. The ones that are with me and those that have gone on to other adventures – and I thanked the woods for letting me enjoy all the time we had together there. As my mind continued to wander down memory lane, the sun began to set. I knew even daylight saving time couldn’t rescue me from the fact that my hiking time was up. So I bid good night to my woodland friends and turned my tail toward home, my heart full of hope for future memories I get to make.  

So friends, as spring breaks and we all get moving again – be sure to mark your adventures with memories. Take pictures in your mind. Then take some time to wander down your own memory lane and be grateful for all your adventures past.

Thank you for joining me on my Hiking Jack Canine Adventures. Please invite a friend to subscribe, and I will bark at you soon!

Your friend, 

P.S. Check me out on the social scene. Follow me on Facebook and Instagram and see what I am up to throughout the week! If you missed any of my past adventures – you can find them on my homepage. Thanks for visiting!