Mountain Dog

In a day’s time, Roberto Tiberius has gone from puppylike couch dog to doe-startling Rotweiljäger. It’s the mountain air, I tell ya, it has filled his canine lungs with the remembrance of his natural abilities, the truest call of the wild.

Bobby kayaked with us up the New River, tussled with a HUGE year old Griffon-Labrador mix, chased a birthday girl and her friends all over the lawn…who is this guy? We’ve been together since June 2012 and I feel I’m still learning about him.

This morning, we meandered up the road by our cabin for a Sunday morning constitutional. It was a sweaty climb to the top and a relieving bounce back down to the cabin. Bobby led the way back.

Suddenly, a fury of barks and growls emanated from the cabin area. A scared-shitless wide-eyed white-tailed doe bounded from the trees onto the road where I stood. I quickly entered into a “don’t trample me” mantra while sharing Bob’s barks to warn her to stay away from me.

Bobby clipped at her like a gambler chasing a sure bet, delicately curbing her down below. He took off into the treeline. I knew he was alright because he was still barking. By the time I had changed clothes, Bobby was back in the cabin.

I ♥ my dog.

 

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