Yesterday I brushed out the upper third of our old trail through the neighbor’s woods. The Thimbleberries had obscured most of the trail, so at times it was really difficult to see where the trail went. As I got to some of the places I hadn’t been for a long time, memories of our dog McIntosh began flooding back to me. (The photo above shows Mac on the trail as it was in 2014, when we used it once or twice every day.)
Mac a sheepdog, loved to be out in the woods on our walks. He would catch a scent of some wild critter, and off he would go, completely turning off his brain to everything except pursuing that smell. This drove us crazy, because he wouldn’t hear us no matter how loud we yelled at him to stop.
Although a bit of a wimp, he nevertheless treed bears and chase deer out of the yard, but he was an extremely gentle-natured dog, who one time carried a very young rabbit in his mouth to me, completely unharmed. Another time when some chickens got out and I was chasing them, he caught one and brought it to me, again carrying it gently in his mouth.
I loved and miss that goofy big dog, and sure wish we had another dog to share our lives with.