I did it. I walked Susan and Girlfriend (Leigh) the whole length of the Appalachian trail through Shenandoah National Park. It took me 13 days to do it. Girlfriend had to leave on day 11 and Angela joined us for the last 4 days, but I did every step. 

Umm, there was one day I developed a tiny sore on one of my paws. Now mind you, this was a day I dragged Susan almost the entire way. And the next morning she forgot to take me. But I'm sure they got lost that day, wandered around, and made no headway.
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When we are hiking I do not like to "go behind" but I found it did give me a good perspective of the trail from both up ahead and behind. So, it was my choice.

It worked out well except for the day we met the dog-eating horseflies. One of them took a bite out of my fluffy side and then I refused to do that silly "go behind."

While hiking, it is important to stop now and then and drink. I am proud to say, I carried my own water - 2 bottles on each side of my pack. But the best stops were when Girlfriend, Susan, and Angela brought out the beef sticks, cheese, or peanut butter. I sometimes had to remind them that I had worked harder than them and I deserved a treat. Girlfriend remembered better than Susan, so I sat by her.

One of my favorite spots was the summit of Little Calf Mountain. It was a wonderful wide open space with so many sumptuous smells. Susan even let go of the leash for awhile and I wandered a bit. I enjoyed that so much that when we got back on the trail I jerked the leash right out of her hand to chase a critter that needed to be chased. I don't know why she had that frantic look on her face when I came back.

But my favorite day of all was the day we found Ivy Creek. We'd been climbing all those mountains, and here was this wonderful pool of water. I demanded Susan take off my pack and let me swim. She did.

Immediately after swimming here, I may have gone a bit crazy in my joy over the water, and I just may have slid down a rock into a pool where I needed a bit of help getting out. But  that is a story for another day.

Traveling with your human tops everything else. You can go camping or hiking. You see and smell and taste new things. But there are a few things you need to teach your human so you both can have the best experience ever.

1. Where you ride. If you travel by car, choose where you like to ride. I prefer the back seat. For a while, Susan and Gary put me in the cargo area of the Explorer. I had to train them to accept that I always ride in the back seat and if they get out to see or do something and I can't come, I will guard the front seat for them.
2. When stopping at a restaurant. Susan and Gary always tell me they're going hunting. Cute. I know where they are and I expect my payment for making sure no one drives off with their vehicle. In a white Styrofoam box, please. No dried up piece of bread in a napkin.
3. Activity. I do know we are on the way to Virginia to hike the AT. But that doesn't mean Susan doesn't need a training hike EVERY DAY! Humans need to be trained to do this. They tend to get a bit lazy, in my opinion.

We have had a great time traveling these past few days. We stopped in Ohio to see some friends of mine. Yvonne took me hiking, and we let Susan go, too. I like her husband as well. He smells a bit like a deer stick so I licked him really well.

Yesterday we were at Salt Fork State Park in eastern Ohio. I took Susan for a 4 mile hike in the woods up and down and all around. Wonderful!
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Today we came to our last stop before we get to Shenandoah Park. There is a famous trail here that runs through the campground. It's called the Allegheny Passage. I took Susan for a walk on it. And then she let me go in the Youghiogheny River. Pronounce that one if you can! 

When Susan first brought me home, I trusted no one. If Strangers came to the house, I hid. But some of those Strangers came again and again. And brought deer sticks. And had a wonderful way of scratching my ears. 

So I began to make friends. Slowly and cautiously because you never know where a Scary Man might be lurking.

Then, one Friend started hiking with Susan and me. Yipee! When we were with her, we went on longer and better hikes to lakes where I could swim, and forests where they let me run off leash. I call her Girlfriend, but Susan calls her Leigh. And she is going to Virginia with us to hike the Appalachian Trail.

She has long legs and can walk faster than Susan. And she always shares her treats with me. She is a True Friend.
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If Susan doesn't shape up soon, I may go home with Girlfriend.

Oh, how I love to go for a walk! Many of you know that I plan to take Susan to Virginia and hike the section of the Appalachian Trail through Shenandoah National Park. So we are doing lots of what she calls training. I call it glorious.

My favorite way to walk is off leash. Susan doesn't allow this very often, I'm not sure why. So we usually compromise and she takes me on the retractable leash. This allows me enough freedom that I can do lots of sniffing, maybe a quick roll before she pulls me up short, and even a tiny bite of something forbidden. (I really do not understand humans' objection to goose poop.)

But sometimes, Susan tells me to "walk behind." I do not like to do this. She doesn't move fast enough, she doesn't stop to sniff, and she never rolls in the grass. A few weeks ago we were hiking some mountain bike trails, and she would allow me to lead and pull her up the hill, but then at the top, just when I could really get out and move, she would give me the dreaded "go behind."

What's up with that?

So, now I am working to teach her to walk on a leash. I always lead, I set the pace, we stop where I want to stop, and we go where I want to go. Remember, I have my PhD. (Professional human-training dog.)

​This is something you need to learn early and practice often. When I first moved in with Gary and Susan, I was given dog food.  As you know, ordinary dog food is hard, dry and tastes like cardboard. The humans had plates and bowls and an entire refrigerator filled with Real Food. I had to put them through rigorous training before they learned to give me Real Food. 
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While they are eating the Real Food is the best time for training. First, you must master The Look. Your eyes must remain on your human (or possibly the Real Food in their hand.) Use your eyebrows to make your look as sad as possible. Here is my patented look that I give my humans.

​When you are offered a delightful morsel, remember to take it politely. Humans never do seem to understand when you accidentally bite them. They are rather unforgiving, in my opinion.

If Real Food is seldom given, you may need to help yourself. Look for Real Food on the counter, on the table, or on a plate left unattended. Of course, there is always tasty Real Food in the refrigerator, but I am still working on learning to open that door. I can, however, open zippered backpacks to extract beef sticks, plastic bags to find crackers, and even a 5 pound bag of flour inside a grocery sack in the back of the car. I wouldn’t recommend flour. It’s rather tasteless and oh boy, the dry mouth that follows!

I have my PhD (Professional human-training Dog) in obtaining treats.

Susan calls me a Laborgi and says I am a rare Italian breed. I may be a rare breed, but I don’t think it’s Italian. My mother was a Labrador retriever. My father was a traveling salesman with short legs and a fluffy tail (probably Corgi, perhaps part border collie). I was born under the porch of a farmhouse and shared my home with thirteen other puppies and two mother dogs.

At first, life was good. The people who lived in the house above didn’t bother us (or care for us), my mom fed me, and I had lots of playmates. But after we were weaned, we got hungry. I learned to catch mice and eat all kinds of things Susan won’t let me eat now. Even with these tidbits, our stomachs were never full. So, the moms and puppies traveled down the road to the neighbor’s house and helped themselves to chicken dinners. I’m particularly fond of wings – no hot sauce, please.

For some reason, the farmer who owned the chickens, became angry and used his shotgun to kill some of my brothers and sisters. Loud noises and tall men still frighten me.

After that, the people in the house called an animal rescue, Second Chance. They came to get the puppies. What a day! The momma dogs were barking, people were running and shouting. I am faster than a speeding bullet, or maybe a chubby person with a net, and I escaped capture the first day. The next day, the rescue people came back, and I was caught. I learned a little about people from a kind foster family.

Then Susan came to the shelter. I could tell as soon as I saw her, this woman needed help. So, I crawled into her lap and she took me home. I’ve spent the last five years trying to train Susan and her husband Gary. They are mighty slow learners. But they open the pantry door and feed me my dog food on a regular basis, they know where the treat container sits, and they give me Meaty Bones when I remind them, so I put up with their disabilities.
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Now, I have undertaken the responsibility for teaching the rest of the world how to train your humans. This is a big job for a short-legged dog, but I am smarter than the average canine.