After a long recovery from heartworms and pneumonia, the approx 3 year old dog went about his business more than doubling his weight.
The responsibilities of being a Smith tribesman involve a lot of pack traveling. Couch potatoes need not apply.
In 3 years, he's been from Maine to Oregon.
And a bunch of states in between.
Thousands of trail miles under his belt.
It should be on our family crest: "Never Leave A Man Behind".
So, when Peter was recently diagnosed with a tick borne disease and one of his joints began to swell (stay tuned, he's been referred to Auburn University for evaluation next week), I had to consider leaving him behind every day when we go out to do our tribe thing.
Some days he waved me on from his perch on the couch, other days, he chews on the door trim if he deems himself abandoned, and then one morning, he leaped out the window to follow us. His eyes were glaring: "You promised you'd never, ever, ever leave me...traitor!".
Plan B:
His first time in the wagon:
He was such a good passenger that I used Dax to pull us to work the next day.
I threw a handful of treats in there and told Dax: "let 'er rip, Tater Chip!".
Peter may be about to embark on a difficult stage of his life, but he won't be alone, the Tribe has got his back.
