GSD Adventures

I have written a little before about how Prophet, our GSD, likes adventures.  He will settle for anything, even a short ride in the car, but his favorite seems to be bushwhacking off-trail during our regular walks.

This morning, like most mornings, we went on the trail along the Hudson for about three miles from W. 232nd Street up to the Riverdale train station on the MetroNorth.  It was 25 degrees and dry, so the ground was frozen hard without being icy.  The first off-piste stop, a small valley filled with rubbish from teen beer parties, takes us down a hill that is steeper than the angle of repose.  Prophet likes to wait exactly at my feet, waiting for me to dislodge pebbles that he can angrily chase.  If I am bold enough to step down without hesitation, we are not at cross purposes.  If I hesitate, anxious about a misstep, he blocks my path and we stand frozen: me looking at him, him looking at my foot.  This morning we went down, and then back up the other side with little hesitation.

We also usually drop down a similar hill to a creek mouth with a small marsh which culminates in a sump where the water enters a pipe under the railroad right of way.  Today, the water had the beginning of crystallization on the surface.  Prophet has become leery this winter of thin ice that he might break through.  He apparently has no hesitation about leaping into freezing water.  He only jumped across when I started throwing a ball across for him to retrieve.

The northernmost mile, a loop from the Riverdale Lower School to the Salanter Akiva Riverdale School, is usually where he meets his homies and can chase, wrestle and play up and down the trail.  It was empty this morning.  Prophet almost always wants to clamber down another steep, loose hill to the tracks near a retaining wall.  It is largely invisible from the path above, but has large dramatic graffiti painted on it for the entertainment of Westchester and Putnam commuters… I guess.

Prophet will never go down these embankments alone or in the company of his wilder friends.  If we are alone, he stands at the edge, beseechingly.  "Can we please, please, PLEASE go down," is the message I read in his eyes.  If I walk past, staying on the trail, he comes over to demand compensation (in Zukes!) for cooperating with my stupid plan of skipping all the fun.  This is what I think of as full DNH mode: Deutsche Nudnik Hund.  He walks very close to me, head in front of my left knee, face turned toward me, eyes insistent.

Sometimes Prophet will drop a tennis ball over the edge, initiating a game of "fetch"in which I am supposed to recover what he throws.  I rarely go along with this role reversal, but the truth is that I have done it sometimes.

If his friend run down unaccompanied, Prophet stands near me, looking directly at me.  At those moments I imagine that he is asking, "Do you see what a good boy I am?"  I have on two occasions instructing him to "fetch" his friend.  He actually did it once.

Today I went along with all these off-trail requests without hesitation.  I even initiated a new one myself, which really made Prophet smile.  I am so grateful to have a companion for daily walks.  They are easily as much fun for me, but I am quite certain I wouldn't take them alone.