The Backpack

It was a cute accessory. It was the first thing strangers noticed. It took off some of the menace off the prong collar that Kafka wears on regional park outings. It was expensive. It was a dog backpack made by Kelty.

I placed his water on two small bottles, on each side. Now that it's Spring, he gets very thirsty on our 2-3 mile walks. At first he resisted the empty backpack, jumping all over the living room while growling. You would think he was wearing a muzzle! But he gradually got used to them, and when he no longer resisted I added the bottles. I was getting him ready for summer hikes. The red backpack was a hit at the off-leash park, adding visibility and another easy mile with the water carrying capability. He carried this weight easily. Standard schnauzers are strong, heavyset dogs who can pull small carts.

We went to a favorite part of the San Pablo Ridge, where there's a rock outcropping, sage and bees. I climbed the whole hill, but he stayed midway, digging under the sagebushes until I could no longer see him. Ten minutes passed. I was upwind and he could not smell me, so I decided to descend all the way and look for him. Once I got there, I could not see him either. I called a couple of times and then saw him, halfway up the hill, without the backpack!

He came down like a goat, jumping from rock to rock, happy to be rid of this human contraption. He passed me and continued descending in front of my massive disbelief. Since he would not let me leash him (Why now in the middle of all this fun?), I realized with dismay I would have to do some rock climbing or give up the backpack. My fear of heights notwithstanding, I climbed the rocks because I remembered the backpack had our remaining water and we were 45 minutes away from the car. So I scrambled up the hill and then held to the hillside with my toes and fingers, as I climbed past a beehive and many ground squirrel holes. I looked behind every rock but I could not see the darned thing, and started to worry the backpack hiding by some unreachable rock. Just then, I saw it, grabbed it and examined it, looking for clues on how Kafka could have wriggled itself out of it. I saw none, and once more came down the hill, very carefully.

Kafka was still downhill, looking for ground squirrels. He paused for a minute when he saw the backpack in my hand. But it would be a while before I could lure him to me with water and get him to wear it again.