While hiking a snowy mesa in Flagstaff, Arizona, I noticed my dog was limping. Every few steps, she鈥檇 tuck up her back paw and hop on three legs. We stopped, and I knelt to inspect. There, piercing her paw pad, was a long cactus spine. Gently, I held her paw and pulled it straight out. I hadn鈥檛 noticed the hazard when she wandered off trail because the ground was freshly dusted with snow.

Since then, I鈥檝e been more cautious about the . Hiding among the lush wildflowers and greenery that coax us outside every season are plants, weeds, and organic materials that can be harmful or toxic to our furry companions. I spoke to Dr. Gary Richter, a veterinarian at in Oakland, California, for his expert advice on identifying hazardous vegetation, staying alert to potential dangers, and hiking safely with our dogs.

Firstly, he says, hazardous plants in one hiking area are going to differ from the next. It鈥檚 best to know what grows in your area that could cause harm to your dog before you head out.

鈥淵ou can just look it up online,鈥� he says. 鈥淚t鈥檒l tell you what鈥檚 in the area and show you pictures so you know exactly what to look for.鈥� The American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals鈥� and are good points of reference.

In the Bay Area where Richter lives, , , and are a few common plants that are dangerous for dogs. Meanwhile, in the desert, numerous cacti varieties grow abundantly alongside trails, as I discovered.

In other cases, a plant might not be inherently toxic to a dog, but its blooms or droppings could be. The walnuts from black walnut trees are a prime example: Their husks and nuts can grow an invisible potent mold that causes tremors and seizures in canines if ingested. Additionally, mushrooms, while not plants, also have organic compounds that can lead to serious trouble.

In some cases, your dog won鈥檛 react to a plant, but can transfer an allergen to you, like in聽 the case of Even after a bath, a dog can carry the plants鈥� oils on their fur, which then transfers to your exposed skin once you pet them, and suddenly you have an itchy rash.

Richter says that knowing your dog鈥檚 temperament will help you assess what kind of monitoring they need on the trail. Some dogs will eat anything in front of them, while others are more discerning. If your dog is a notorious muncher, Richter recommends a basket muzzle, which allows them to drink water and pant but keeps them from ingesting anything that might be dangerous.

鈥淣ow you can let your dog have fun and be a dog and you don鈥檛 have to worry about those sorts of issues,鈥� Richter says.

Keeping your dog on leash and on the trail will also limit their run-ins with nasty plants and dangerous snacks, he adds.

It鈥檚 likely that you know your dog鈥檚 limits better than they do. Richter says, 鈥淭hey act like they鈥檙e fine when they鈥檙e running around excited and then suddenly when they stop, then they hurt.鈥�

If your dog eats something toxic on the trail, they may exhibit vomiting, diarrhea, drooling, increased thirst, loss of appetite, lethargy, confusion, heavy breathing, and pale gums.

Should your dog rub up against something toxic, look out for biting, licking, and guarding the area, such as their paws, bellies, undersides, and tails. Violent sneezing or head banging could indicate a foreign material in their nose. Head shaking and scratching could mean something got into their ears. Squinting might signal foreign matter in their eyes.

If you suspect your dog may have ingested or had contact with a harmful plant, contact your vet.

鈥淎 lot of that is hopefully fairly intuitive and obvious,鈥� he says. 鈥淚t should be. If your dog is doing stuff they don鈥檛 normally do, then pay attention because there鈥檚 probably a reason.鈥�

Aside from your veterinarian, the ASPCA Animal Poison Control Center (APCC) is a resource for any animal poison-related emergency, 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. If you think your pet may have ingested a potentially poisonous substance, call (888) 426-4435.

The post Hiking with Your Dog? Watch Out for These Dangerous Plants appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.

I like to think of the Iditarod race as a cruise ship vacation. Each checkpoint is a new port of call, and the food might be served buffet style rather than made to order, but it鈥檚 a very good buffet. The offerings are varied enough that the route has some texture. For instance, one evening鈥檚 meal might feature chicken thighs, wild-caught Alaskan salmon, scrambled eggs, a variety of cheeses, and some kind of fatty frozen dessert. In the morning, there might be strips of tender red beef, pork medallions, whole eggs, some kind of crunchy dried snack, and canned fish in oil.

One staple is chicken legs. I pack over 300 raw chicken legs for the Iditarod race. Something about grabbing the bone and tossing it in the snow and watching my teammates wolf it down nearly whole 鈥攚ell, let鈥檚 just say I know well the origin of the term 鈥渨olf it down.鈥�

I pack everything. Sometimes gummy worms, sometimes little pats of butter. When you鈥檙e tired, it鈥檚 hard to get enough calories, so I like to pack fatty foods like bacon, ham, and cheesecake. This year, I went heavy on herring, and I tend to pack a lot of calcium supplements. Probiotics are essential, because travel can do weird things to digestion. I make little sandwiches full of honey. Sometimes I fry bacon; sometimes I serve it raw.

Good old-fashioned Gatorade works wonders for electrolyte balance. I often thaw it in my armpits while driving the sled.

Occasionally I鈥檒l even resort to cat food. Literally. You never know. Packs of ramen noodles. Usually I don鈥檛 bother seasoning or even cooking them. The crunch is satisfying, but easy on the mouth. I also tend to favor peanut butter鈥攁gain, warmed in the armpits or the front pocket of my pants.

But that鈥檚 just what I feed the dogs.

I sent a ton of food up the trail for our dogs to enjoy at every checkpoint. The race is like a great expedition for them, punctuated by fun feasts among lots of new friends, when they happen to camp near other teams. It has all the drama of a Caribbean cruise, but without all the heat. Plenty of HEET, though. We carry bottles of HEET methanol antifreeze for our alcohol cookers, so we can melt snow and heat dog food on the trail.

When I say I sent a ton of dog food up the trail, I do mean a ton, or nearly so. My drop bags weighed 1976 pounds when I weighed them to ship them up-trail. My team鈥檚 food packages weren鈥檛 the heaviest, nor the lightest. But what do I eat?

What I Eat During the Iditarod

A single sled dog needs about 10,000 calories per day while running the Iditarod. Mushers run less, but we鈥檙e bigger, so I鈥檇 guess we burn about the same. We spend 12 to 16 hours a day behind the sled, often jogging, pushing it up hills, or muscling over rough terrain. Even when the dogs rest, we鈥檙e often still working: melting snow for water or chopping through ice, fixing equipment, arranging and packing up camp. I鈥檓 sure my parka will be loose by the time I reach the Bering Sea.

Thank goodness for Sarah Hamilton, a longtime sled dog booster who happens to run Trail Center Lodge along the Gunflint Trail in Minnesota鈥檚 Boundary Waters Canoe Area Wilderness. She makes heat-and-eat trail meals called , and if a box of them hadn鈥檛 arrived literally hours before my dogs and I left for Alaska, I would be fighting my dogs for pork.

Which of course I would never do, because the dogs come first. Moms and dads feed their children. Mushers feed their dogs. We take much delight in their hearty appetites. We try to get everything just how they like it, so they can focus on their race. Cutting off the proverbial crusts, if that鈥檚 what they need. We鈥檙e kind of useless out there compared to the dogs, so this also makes us feel a little better about ourselves. By the time we鈥檙e a few hundred miles in, they鈥檒l eat just about anything.

Sarah鈥檚 CAMP CHOW meals can be made with hot water or even cold water. She sends me the gluten-free ones, which are incredible. There鈥檚 a blueberry parfait that I don鈥檛 think I could ever get sick of, which is saying something, because it鈥檚 hard to eat when you鈥檙e so tired. I鈥檓 thirsty out there. My teeth are practically furry. All I want to do is sleep. I am the last creature I feed, and it鈥檚 hard to cajole myself into eating, but it鈥檚 necessary, and Camp Chow makes it possible.

Other mushers have their own techniques. One friend asked me to pick up 20 McChicken sandwiches right before the Iditarod start a few years back. He kept them in his sled, and thawed them one by one in his armpits when he got hungry. My wife, also a musher, swears by frozen cheesecakes, because she loses her appetite completely on the trail, and they鈥檙e caloric and never freeze too hard to take a bite. She likes Twizzlers, too. They freeze solid, but she can hang one out of her mouth like a farmer with a blade of straw, thawing and gnawing it inch by inch. The sugar keeps her warm and the taste keeps her awake.

What about drinks? We mushers drink a lot of hot Tang. Sometimes it鈥檚 available at checkpoints, steeping in a big thermos next to coffee that might or might not taste like coffee, although no one cares for taste at that point. I packed bottles of iced tea and coconut water in my drop bags, because I can drop them (frozen) into my cooker when I鈥檓 making dog food. When they thaw just enough, I gulp down the slush.

Unless, of course, the dogs decided they want what鈥檚 mine. In that case, it becomes theirs. I鈥檓 happy to live on the crumbs.

on

The post This Is Everything I’ll Eat as I Race the Iditarod appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.

Last fall, at a dryland dogsled race in Pearson,Wisconsin, one canine athlete stood out from the rest. While her competition鈥攎ostly pointers and Alaskan huskies鈥攔an one- to three-mile sprints, then rested, she entered multiple divisions in such quick succession that she once hurried straight from the finish line to the starting line without slowing down. Her gaze is stoic. Her fur is orange. Her legs are four inches long.

Musher Betsy Heidt of Wausau, Wisconsin, didn鈥檛 plan for her 18-pound dachshund mix, Muppy, to become one of the most recognizable sled dogs in the Midwest. As it turns out, that was all Muppy鈥檚 idea.

鈥淚 could never get Muppy to walk on a leash,鈥� Betsy told me over the phone. (I鈥檓 a dogsledder myself, and cheer for Muppy at races, but I don鈥檛 know Betsy well; I reached out to learn the full story.) 鈥淪omeone commented that I should walk faster, so I walked faster, and then Muppy started running, so I started running, and then she started running faster. I don鈥檛 have the cardio for that, so I hooked her up to a bike and off she went. I was like, oh, I guess this is a thing.鈥�

Betsy grew up on a dairy farm in the southern part of the state. As a kid, she sometimes hooked up the farm collies to a plastic sled with bailer twine, then threw snowballs for them to chase so they鈥檇 pull her. But those experiments, plus the movie Snow Dogs, were the only context she had for sled dog sports. So she turned to YouTube for urban mushing tutorials, which explained the basics of , , and : dogs pulling bikes, scooters, and human runners, respectively. The videos were helpful, but geared toward folks with huskies and other big dogs. They didn鈥檛 address many of the problems she encountered, like that Muppy was so short that she had to swim through puddles. Plus, where do you find a good harness that size?

But Muppy loved pulling so much that Betsy was determined to figure it out. She contacted a harness company called , ordering their smallest adjustable size, and got some goggles so that Muppy鈥檚 eyes were protected from sticks and burdock. They trained on deer trails in the woods by their house. Muppy was ecstatic to pull, and her never-ending energy felt like magic鈥攅ven when she turned to chase critters, and Betsy went flying. 鈥淚 got really good at reading her body language,鈥� she told me. 鈥淚 can tell by the way she holds her tail if she鈥檚 locked into something ahead of us, whether it鈥檚 a person in the distance or an unsuspecting rabbit.鈥� Betsy learned to brace herself, and Muppy learned not to swerve: 鈥淪he throws into the harness even more to get out that frustration.鈥�

When Muppy was four, in 2021, Betsy posted a picture on Facebook, and a page called Twin Cities Dog-Powered Sports liked her post. 鈥淚 sent some messages to their page, asking them 900 different questions, and they were super helpful.鈥� When she saw that they were hosting a first-time race in Minnesota, she signed up for the 1.3 mile bikejoring event. She was terrified.

For one thing, Betsy didn鈥檛 know if other mushers would accept her. 鈥淏ut my biggest fear,鈥� she said, 鈥渨as that someone would pass us.鈥� That summer, Muppy had been attacked by three golden retrievers at a park, and she鈥檇 been sketchy around strange dogs ever since. How would she react to a team coming up behind them? Betsy made a plan: if another team approached, she would veer off-trail and sit on the ground, holding Muppy, until they were gone. As it turned out, she and Muppy both had so much adrenaline鈥斺�淲e were pedal to the metal!鈥濃�攖hat no other teams came close. They finished the course in just five and a half minutes, averaging over 14 miles per hour. The duo didn鈥檛 make the podium, but they weren鈥檛 on the bottom, either.

After that, they were hooked.

When most people picture sled dogs, they imagine huskies racing 1,000 miles through snowy wilderness. But in dryland racing, an ever-growing corner of the sport, teams consisting of one to six dogs compete in parks, cities, and small towns worldwide. Mushers gather at trailheads and parking lots for long weekends of racing, with world-champion sprinters (often huge, muscular pointers with legs a mile long) competing alongside teams of purebred Siberians and assorted mutts. When Betsy and Muppy first started showing up at races, people assumed that Muppy belonged to a spectator, or that she was a pet accompanying another team. But it wasn鈥檛 long before they took her seriously, as both a friend and competition.

Muppy鈥檚 not the fastest dog on the race circuit, but she鈥檚 among the most recognizeable, and crowds will sometimes gather to chant her name. The affection is mutual: there鈥檚 a bar on the country road that leads to one of the race sites, and whenever Betsy makes the turn in her car, Muppy starts screeching with excitement. In the starting chute, while the judge counts down, she wails, eyes glued to the trail ahead鈥攁nd the moment Betsy releases the brake, they take off at top speed. She鈥檚 become a pro at some of the more technical aspects of racing, like getting passed鈥攐r, just as often, passing. 鈥淭he dog parts of the other team, sometimes they just stare as they鈥檙e running, trying to decide if she鈥檚 food or friend,鈥� Betsy recalled, laughing. 鈥淎nd their mushers will say, 鈥楥ome on, Snowball! You鈥檙e getting passed by a wiener dog!鈥�

For the past four years, during dryland season, Muppy races frequently, and trains by pulling Betsy or her husband two to three miles up to four times a week. Betsy works at a composting facility, and even brings Muppy to work sometimes, so she can practice running up and down the compost rows鈥攚hich smell enticing, making them perfect practice for resisting distraction. Until this year, winter鈥檚 been Muppy鈥檚 off-season; she spends the snowy months digging and shredding sticks. But Betsy recently bought a fatbike, and the duo have been training for fatbikejoring races on snow.

Last May, Betsy and her husband adopted a second dog, Journey, who鈥檚 a terrier-shepherd mix. Journey鈥檚 bigger than Muppy, and not that into pulling, but she does love running, so sometimes they enter two-dog races together. Muppy pulls, and Journey simply runs alongside her. Betsy doesn鈥檛 mind. The point of dog-powered sports, as she sees it, is to make dogs鈥� lives richer, and that means embracing each dog鈥檚 skills and interests鈥攕o as long as Journey鈥檚 happy, she鈥檚 happy too.

As for Muppy, she鈥檚 fully embraced her role as an icon; she prances when fans call her name. Betsy鈥檚 thrilled to be her ambassador. 鈥淚f someone has a pet with boundless energy, a sport like this is a great opportunity for them,鈥� she told me. 鈥淓ven for a dog who doesn鈥檛 pull a lot, like Journey, being out in front and making decisions seems to tucker her out more than games of fetch ever did.鈥�

But Betsy鈥檚 favorite thing has been seeing how much joy and inspiration Muppy鈥檚 athleticism brings to people. 鈥淚 want to show that little dogs can do things,鈥� she said proudly, 鈥渁nd help more dogs live enriching lives!鈥�

The post Meet Muppy, the World’s Smallest Sled Dog appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.

Tanner Bean stepped over the cliff edge and rappelled down a slope of crumbling rock, as other members of Colorado’s Mesa County Search and Rescue team watched him descend.

After lowering 300 feet, Bean reached a ledge no bigger than a dinner table, jutting from the sheer precipice several hundred feet above the valley floor.

That’s where Bean found Tiny the dog.

“She looked at me like ‘oh my god, oh my god, a human!'” Bean told 翱耻迟蝉颈诲别.听“She started wagging her tail and running back and forth. She just seemed so excited.”

Bean, 40, was ecstatic but also worried by the reaction.

“I was like ‘No no no, please don’t fall off this cliff, not now!” Bean added.

It had taken Bean and his SAR teammates six hours to reach Tiny on this cliff edge in a remote corner of the state, several miles outside of the community of Collbran. The group had set out early on the morning of January 2 after receiving an SOS call from Tiny’s owner, a local hunter. The previous day, Tiny, a 20-pound hunting hound, had been tracking a mountain lion across a series of peaks when she had descended the cliff face and become stranded on the ledge. She couldn’t ascend the loose rock, and trying to navigate the descent would be fatal.

SAR officials said that Tiny was wearing a GPS tracker on her collar, which showed her approximate location within the dizzying terrain. Tiny’s owner could see the stranded dog from below with his eyes.聽Night fell, and the owner realized that Tiny would have to spend the evening on the precipice. The following morning, he called rescuers.

Mesa Search and Rescue, which is based out of Grand Junction, oversees a huge swath of Colorado’s western quarter, and its area of operation includes popular hiking and biking trails outside of Fruita, the Colorado National Monument, and a stretch of the Colorado River that’s beloved by river runners. During the spring and summer, the team fields numerous calls from hikers, cyclists, and boaters.

“Most of our calls are lost hikers or swiftwater rescues,” said Nick Ingalls, 30, one of the other rescuers. “But we will get maybe two or three dog calls each year.”

Fifteen SAR members met at a trailhead near Collbran that morning. Due to the tricky terrain, the group split into two groups to see if they could find the best route to the top of the cliff. The hike in took far longer than they anticipated, as the teams had to trudge through knee-deep snow drifts and navigate tight gullies and washes.

“We were hiking over these ridges that felt like they were made of Frosted Flakes,” Bean said. “You’d take a few steps up and then slide back down.”

It was nearly 4 P.M. when Bean and Ingalls finally located the bluffs above Tiny. Several miles away, SAR members set up a spotting lens to watch the operation unfold. After fixing anchors, Bean descended the cliff, found Tiny, attached her to a specialty dog harness, and lifted her to safety.

Ingalls said that Tiny’s enthusiasm quickly wore off once she got to the top of the mountain. The pads of her feet were bloody and scarred, and she seemed exhausted.

“She acted a lot like a human patient who had been out in the elements,” he said. “So happy at first, and then after the adrenaline wears off, she just laid down.”

They gave Tiny water, but nobody in the rescuing party had brought dog food. Ingalls said he had a single bar of cell service and he texted a friend who is a veterinarian to ask whether the food they had in their packs was safe to feed a dog. In the end, they opened a can of Chef Boyardee ravioli and meat sauce and spooned some out for Tiny. She gulped the meal down.

“I’ve never seen a dog happier to eat human food,” Ingalls said.

But the rescue mission wasn’t over yet鈥攖he team still had to get Tiny back to their vehicles. At first, Tiny walked beside the rescuers, but she quickly sat down with fatigue. So Bean, Ingalls, and the other SAR team members took turns carrying the 20-pound dog as they rappelled down cliffs, climbed through dense brush, and trudged through snow drifts. After several hours, Tiny’s owner met them on the trail with his horses, and they finished the journey on horseback. It took them four hours to return to their vehicles.

It was dark when Bean and Ingalls finally reached their vehicles and completed the rescue. The total time for the mission was 13 hours鈥攁 grueling day of long hikes, technical climbing, and route-finding in the backcountry. Rescue missions for stranded humans often take a fraction of the time鈥攁nd this one had been to save a 20-pound pooch. But neither Ingalls nor Bean complained about the outing when I spoke to them on a video call in late January.

Bean told me he’d “100 percent” go through the ordeal to save Tiny again. Ingalls agreed.

“I think we try to always try to have empathy and to put ourselves in their situation,” Ingalls said. “Whether it’s a human or a dog, they’re having the worst day of their life, and we get a chance to help them.”

The post A Rescue Team in Colorado Spent 13 Hours Saving a Dog Named Tiny appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.

My husband, Dave, went skiing down a forested聽slope behind our cabin near Collingwood, Ontario. It was a rare perfect day聽when he set out with our dog, Phoebe. The deep powder lured them both.

Phoebe loves to ski. She鈥檚 a golden retriever, and a homebody, with traits bred into her for domestic life. Her namesake is a character in Friends, and it suits her. On the slopes, she lunges through the powder on the tails of Dave鈥檚 skis. When they reach the end, she turns and runs home.

That perfect day, Dave and Phoebe took three turns. On the fourth, the edge of Dave鈥檚 ski hit a downed log. The impact catapulted him forward. With the trunk of a maple tree coming fast towards him, he remembers thinking, I better move my head.

After that, everything went black.

I could tell this story another way: it could be about all the trees Dave hasn鈥檛 hit.

The first time we met, I watched him kick-turn down the face of Mount Washington in Oregon. Over the years he’s wound聽through the trees of the Central Cascades. We鈥檝e skied on glaciers, volcanos, and through glades, and he鈥檚 come away unscathed. But trouble found Dave the day he went skiing out our back door.

When Dave became conscious, he was about 350 feet down the slope from our cabin. He thought that something was caught by his neck. When he reached to push it out of the way, he realized it was his collarbone.

Though Dave didn鈥檛 know it at the time, he had slammed chest-first into the tree. While his head was spared, he had 16 broken bones.

His skis were still attached to his boots. He tried to turn around, but he passed out, and woke up having slid further down the slope.

Phoebe, our dog, was panting, nervous, and running in circles around Dave. It was just before 4 P.M.聽The light was flattening; the sun would set in another 30 minutes. He had a blurry thought about his phone, but it was buried deep inside an underlayer in a back pocket. He couldn鈥檛 reach it.

It鈥檚 not ideal to do any backcountry activity on your own, but we had come to the habit when our kids were young. If you didn鈥檛 make the most of each precious spare moment you had, you would probably miss your chance.

And now Dave was fighting an urge to sit down and close his eyes. It was well below zero degrees Fahrenheit.

He managed to get his skis off. The dog leash was around his shoulder. He pulled the end to cinch his arm against his body. The leash became a sling, which took the pain from his collarbone just out of fainting territory. With ski poles in one hand, he took a step. He wobbled, almost fainted again, then glanced up the hill. Which way was the cabin?

He couldn鈥檛 see it from that position on the slope. His vision had narrowed to a channel. Direction was hazy. He could only focus on what was right in front of him.

What appeared in that narrow line of vision was Phoebe. Looking into her eyes, Dave could tell she wanted to run home, like she always does.

鈥淕o on,鈥� he said, thinking if Phoebe appeared at the door of the house alone, it might prompt one of us to question why. 鈥淕o home,鈥� he said.

Can a dog be a hero? Dog-cognition researcher Alexandra Horowitz, in her , asks if dogs can intentionally rescue people in need. She cites a study that tested the rescue capacity of pet dogs (rather than specially trained rescue dogs). A person was put inside a box. They called out in distress. Then, their dogs were allowed to enter. According to the research, one in three dogs “rescued” their human from the box.

Clive Wynne, the lead researcher on the study, said it鈥檚 difficult to assess a聽dog鈥檚 intent. Did the dog rescue the person for an altruistic reason, or did the assistance come from a place of self-interest? Wynne believes that, by聽finding a way to end the human鈥檚 distress, the dogs felt better, too.

Instead of running home, Phoebe turned, moved a few steps, then waited. Dave put a foot forward, a ski pole, and took one painful step. (Eight of his broken bones would turn out to be ribs.) Phoebe took another step, then waited again. Dave inched forward. He kept his eyes fixed on her hind end and slow-moving tail.

This tail became his only focus. Step by step, Phoebe moved just ahead of Dave. He lost track of time. All he remembers is being aware that they were moving uphill鈥攁nd that keeping the dog鈥檚 tail in his sightline was like a lifeline. About halfway up the slope, he stopped and had trouble catching his breath. He thought something had happened to his lung. He鈥檇 later learn that it was punctured.

They kept moving together. When Phoebe鈥檚 tail finally stopped, Dave looked up and was surprised to see the house. She had led him to the front door. He called and we came running.

Later, I retraced their tracks up the hill. The paw prints didn’t take the steepest or most direct route. Phoebe led Dave in a steady line, one that he could manage. She stayed with him.

When I saw Dave in the emergency ward, he wore a neck brace. Medical officials wheeled him off to a scan, and eventually they聽would locate the 16 broken bones, including some along the wings of his vertebrae. The crash did聽no permanent damage; he was incredibly lucky. Two years later, Dave is fully healed, though a little more crooked than he used to be.

But then, in the emergency ward, a nurse had just injected him with Fentanyl. He was fairly lucid, if a little loopy when they started to wheel him away, but there was something else he wanted to say.

As I leaned closer, I realized that in Dave鈥檚 mind, it didn鈥檛 matter whether Phoebe鈥檚 intentions were altruistic or not. There was no need to ask the question. What mattered was her presence. She stayed with him and that was what gave him strength.

He whispered into my ear, 鈥淧hoebe saved my life.鈥�

The post How My Dog Saved My Husband After a Ski Accident appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.

You鈥檙e on a hike with your dog when his paws start bleeding on sharp rocks. Soon after, he refuses to move. It鈥檚 not possible to carry him out, because he鈥檚 not only injured but stubborn and heavy. You鈥檙e miles from your car and dark is coming. So what do you do?

If a human is in trouble, the easy answer is to call search and rescue either with a cell phone or satellite communicator. But if an animal needs rescuing, the answer isn鈥檛 so simple.

Many SAR organizations will not respond to emergency calls for an injured animal. They are restricted by law to only dispatch missions for humans, says Keelan Cleary, a member of , which serves Oregon鈥檚 northwest corner.

The dispatching agency鈥攊n the western US, usually a sheriff鈥檚 office; in the eastern US, either a fish and wildlife office or a fire department鈥攎ust take into account the risks of a mission as well as a team鈥檚 bandwidth. Since many teams are made up of volunteers, there鈥檚 only so much time and energy they can offer.

It doesn鈥檛 mean that SAR team members aren鈥檛 animal lovers. Cleary, who has two dogs and a cat, brings treats on every mission just in case an animal is involved.

鈥淲hen we do deal with animals, it鈥檚 usually because a human is injured and the pet is with them,鈥� says Cleary.

Oregon is among the rare places, along with , , and Los Angeles, with an animal-specific rescue organization. Hikers can call the (OHSTAR) team if their pet is in trouble. The team is trained in high angle ropes, tree climbing, and austere environment training, which includes map reading, terrain analysis, risk mitigation, and first aid.

This summer, OHSTAR rescued a Newfoundland named Levon after his owner took him camping in the Mount St. Helens area for respite from a Portland heatwave. That night, Levon started showing signs of heat stress, and in the morning, despite a cool evening and lots of water, he was unsteady and started to stumble. The rescue team arrived quickly with a special piece of equipment called a stokes basket to carry Levon, who weighs more than 100 pounds. Other OHSTAR missions have included saving a horse stuck in deep snow and a dog stranded for a week on a steep cliffside.

Cleary recommends that all pet owners, especially those without access to a rescue organization, add a few more items to their list of 10 essentials in case they ever need to spend a night on the mountain鈥攅ither because the hiker is in distress or their animal is.

Along with extra layers, water, and food for you, he recommends bringing water and food for your animal. Duct tape can also be a lifesaver; Cleary says he once made a bootie when his dog鈥檚 paw pads got scraped. He also brings a lightweight fabric sling in the event he ever has to carry a dog off the trail. Here are for caring for your adventure animal:

• Keep your dog hydrated on the trail. Carry a collapsible dish and offer them water often, especially if it鈥檚 hot out.
• Choose pet-friendly trails. Make sure you鈥檙e aware of your pet鈥檚 physical limits鈥攊t鈥檚 best to start slow and ramp up the difficulty as you and your pet gain experience hiking together. It鈥檚 best to leave your pet at home for technical scrambles and high mileage days. Make sure to follow any restrictions for the area you plan to hike.
• Spend time training recall and obedience off the trail so you can be confident in your control over your pet in the backcountry.
• Familiarize yourself with before embarking on longer adventures, just in case something happens, so a call for help is your last resort.

The post Is It OK to Call Search and Rescue for My Dog? appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.

Kirk Williams has always lived an active lifestyle. So when he fractured his spinal cord in a mountain bike crash, it wasn鈥檛 about if he鈥檇 return to a life of outdoor adventures but how to do it. As a quadriplegic, Kirk has relearned how to live an active life, which has involved learning to be patient with himself and his progress. Kirk鈥檚 dog Maddox has been by his side every step of the way鈥攂oth as a loyal companion for life on the road and as a teacher who reminds Kirk to slow down, be patient, and appreciate every moment. Watch the video and learn more聽life lessons from a dog.

Founded 75 years ago with an unwavering commitment to science-led pet nutrition, Hill’s Pet Nutrition is on a mission to help enrich and lengthen the special relationships between people and their pets. Hill’s is dedicated to pioneering research for dogs and cats using a scientific understanding of their specific needs. As a leading veterinarian recommended pet food brand, knowledge is our first ingredient with 220+ veterinarians, PhD nutritionists and food scientists working to develop breakthrough innovations in pet health. Hill’s Prescription Diet therapeutic nutrition plus our everyday wellness product line, Hill’s Science Diet, are sold at vet clinics and pet specialty retailers worldwide. For more information about our products and nutritional philosophy, visit .

The post Life Lessons from a Dog: Patience appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.

Before the summer heat broke, my wife and I made a decision that would have been unthinkable just a short while ago: we went for a hike without Wiley. He was the reason that I started hiking nearly every day in 2012, a big reason why Virginia and I met in the first place. Wiley is part of every decision I make鈥攖o the the degree where he鈥檚 become an inseparable part of my identity. But now, at almost 12, he鈥檚 an aging dog.

We didn鈥檛 take him hiking that day because it was over 90 degrees out, uncommonly hot here in the mountains of southwest Montana. And Wiley鈥檚 endurance has started to fade, even on cooler days. He鈥檒l lay down in the shade and refuse to go farther, start lagging behind on uphills, and has even stopped beating up his little brother and sister when they stray off-trail.

The reason we’re hesitant to take Wiley on our hikes isn’t because he can鈥檛 or won鈥檛 keep up鈥攁nd definitely not because he doesn鈥檛 want to come along. It鈥檚 more because we鈥檙e worried about him. He鈥檒l slip and fall occasionally while climbing our hardwood stairs鈥攕omething he now accomplishes at a walk rather than a run. And jumping into bed is a feat that he can now manage聽only with a running start. More than half of my 鈥渓oad ups鈥� at the trucks are now met with聽Wiley’s sad eyes, which聽I know to mean he wants me to lift him into the bed.

At home, Wiley spends most of the day sleeping on the couch, laying in the yard, or relaxing on the dog beds we stacked together for maximum comfort.聽I find myself scratching his head to say goodbye as often as I鈥檓 leashing him up to take him with me.

Protection duties鈥攐nce Wiley’s greatest source of joy鈥攈ave largely been ceded to Teddy, our six-year-old Kangal. I can鈥檛 remember the last time he聽bit someone or something.

When Wiley swims鈥攕omething he loves, but has never been any good at鈥擨 now keep a watchful聽eye on him, and drag him out of the water once he starts to show any signs of fatigue.

Wiley wasn鈥檛 my first dog by a long shot, but my first after leaving home for college. He was given to me by friends who figured a puppy might be just the thing to drag me out of depression after I lost聽a business I鈥檇 spent years building then, temporarily, the ability to walk following a motorcycle crash. I was so broke the first year that I had Wiley that I chose food for him over food for myself on more occasions than I鈥檇 like to count.

Writing that is enough to bring back some uncomfortable memories, but I don鈥檛 really think about those that much anymore. The house, the cars, and the security that seemed so unobtainable back then have come through work and time. That’s in large part thanks to the sense of purpose and confidence being forced to provide for Wiley gave me.

But our good times together far outweigh any struggles we faced. Wiley鈥檚 been to three countries, most states east of the Mississippi, summited 14,000-foot peaks, rafted rivers, and sailed in the Pacific Ocean and Sea of Cortez. He鈥檚 bitten bears, helped me fight off a home invasion back in Hollywood, and served as the best man at our wedding. He was better at those first two tasks than he was the last one, but did at least manage to lead a group howl session during the reception dinner.

And while he鈥檚 still healthier looking than many dogs half his age鈥�thanks to cutting out ultra-processed food early in his life鈥�we can still see Wiley aging. From his peak of fitness, where you could visibly see his muscles even through his dense brindle fur, he鈥檚 lost about ten pounds, and is now what one of my friends described as 鈥渙ld man skinny.鈥� What used to be meat is now bone. He has a lipoma on his rib cage, and a growth on one eyelid that our聽vet describes as non-cancerous.

Most dogs with hybrid-vigor鈥攁 post-purebred description for a dog that won鈥檛 die from cancer at a young age鈥攍ive 10 to 14 years or so. And while Wiley shows no signs of crossing the rainbow bridge anytime soon, even I have to admit that the end of our time together is now much closer than the beginning. Watching people on television, or friends in real life make end-of-life decisions about their dogs is starting to feel more and more uncomfortable. Selfishly, I鈥檓 hoping it鈥檒l still be a feat of heroism involving a mountain lion or grizzly bear that takes him, but realistically I know it鈥檒l probably have to be an injection in the comfort of our own home.

But that鈥檚 still hopefully at least a couple years away. My job in the meantime, I figure, is to create as many memories together as possible. Even as it鈥檚 harder and harder to bring him along, it becomes more important to put in the effort, or scale activities to Wiley鈥檚 ability. Airplane rides鈥攖rips where my dogs cannot tag along鈥攆eel less appealing. Visits to our cabin, trips to see friends within driving distance, and vacations to Mexico, where we bring the pack, have become easy to prioritize.

Or just hanging out at home, where Wiley likes nothing better than lying聽under our chairs while we eat dinner, sleeping on his bed next to ours while we sleep, or cuddling up to us on the couch watching a movie. None of that may sound quite as exciting as our old hikes, but we adapt. It turns out any time spent with Wiley, in a place he’s most comfortable, is time well spent.

The post As My Dog Slows Down, I鈥檓 Learning to Appreciate the Little Things appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.

The post Lecciones de vida de un perro appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.

As a professional snowboarder, Emil茅 Zynobia spends a lot of time away from home. But her close-knit community in Jackson, WY, keeps her energized for traveling and excited to come home. At the center of that community: Trapper. As a dog mom to Trapper, Emil茅 has learned to cultivate an extended family that cares for her and Trapper, and Trapper has shown her how to support that community with unfiltered love and joy. Watch the video and keep reading to see the loving community Trapper and Emil茅 have fostered together and the lessons Trapper has taught Emil茅 along the way.

Lesson #1: Open Up

With their always-on friendliness, endless curiosity, and undying loyalty, dogs can crack your heart wide open. Emil茅 learned this from Trapper. 鈥淚 didn鈥檛 have the world鈥檚 greatest childhood,鈥� she recalls. 鈥淭here were elements of not always getting the attention I craved, and I think it made me a reserved and guarded person.鈥� But Emil茅 found a devoted companion in Trapper, who always wants to be by her side鈥攕howing her that attention goes both ways. Whether she鈥檚 traveling for a job, going on a horse packing trip, or splitboarding in the backcountry, Trapper is always eager to join. On the occasions that she has to leave Trapper behind, it鈥檚 heart wrenching, and the depth of their bond sometimes brings her to tears. 鈥淚t鈥檚 just me and him, doing life together,鈥� Emil茅 says, and that kind of connection is worth opening up for.

Lesson #2: Find Joy in the Small Things

We鈥檝e all seen dogs having the time of their lives rolling in the grass or blissing out while getting belly rubs from one of their favorite humans. 鈥淚 think we often assume we鈥檒l see people again, so we treat moments as insignificant,鈥� says Emil茅. 鈥淏ut every moment is potentially a significant moment depending on how you contextualize it.鈥� Trapper has shown Emil茅 how to make each moment count鈥攚hether he鈥檚 going for a walk or simply enjoying being outside. When Emil茅 returned home after a recent trip she took a page from Trapper鈥檚 playbook. 鈥淚 spun around the yard and just marveled at the beautiful landscapes around me,鈥� she says. 鈥淏efore long, I was beaming, and I thought, 鈥榃ow, this is how Trapper feels all the time.鈥欌�� Now, that feeling is something Emil茅 aspires to everyday.

Lesson #3: Be Adaptable

Emil茅 loves the way Trapper can quickly adapt to any scenario. 鈥淎s a kid, I had to adapt to a lot of different things,鈥� she says. Trapper will happily go lay on the beach with Emil茅 while she reads a book or catches a wave, or accompany her on a mountain bike ride. Dogs have to be especially adaptable because they don鈥檛 know what鈥檚 coming next. To keep Trapper fueled up and ready for whatever adventure the day brings, Emil茅 is careful about what she feeds him. 鈥淚f he鈥檚 not feeling nourished, then we can鈥檛 go on the big bike ride,鈥� she says. If he hasn鈥檛 eaten well, Emil茅 can see how it affects the way he shows up. They recently switched to and so far Trapper has been gobbling his kibble straight, which is new for him. 鈥淗e鈥檚 not like, 鈥楬ey lady, where鈥檚 my topper?鈥欌��

Lesson #4: Live Life on Your Own Terms

While Trapper is a friendly, cuddly dog he鈥檚 also not one to be pressured into doing anything. For example, he鈥檚 a little reserved at the dog park until he finds a dog he really connects with. Emil茅 appreciates this behavior. 鈥淚 think there鈥檚 this idea that we always need to behave in the way that society expects us to, which is like greeting everyone and being stoked on everyone,鈥� she says. There鈥檚 an impulse to encourage him to go say hi to other dogs and run around, but she鈥檚 come to learn that Trapper doesn’t play with other dogs until he鈥檚 ready. Emil茅 has appreciated the lesson in learning to let him be who and how he is without judgment. 鈥淗e does things his own way and engages in the way he wants to engage.鈥�

Founded 75 years ago with an unwavering commitment to science-led pet nutrition, Hill’s Pet Nutrition is on a mission to help enrich and lengthen the special relationships between people and their pets. Hill’s is dedicated to pioneering research for dogs and cats using a scientific understanding of their specific needs. As a leading veterinarian recommended pet food brand, knowledge is our first ingredient with 220+ veterinarians, PhD nutritionists and food scientists working to develop breakthrough innovations in pet health. Hill’s Prescription Diet therapeutic nutrition plus our everyday wellness product line, Hill’s Science Diet, are sold at vet clinics and pet specialty retailers worldwide. For more information about our products and nutritional philosophy, visit .

The post Life Lessons from a Dog: A Lesson in Community appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.