Farley here. I lost my shoe. It’s my fault. I’m hiking on a snow covered trail in the mountains, the sky is blue, my humans are chatting and my nose is alert to all dangers. That’s my job. I’m the protector. If there’s wildlife in the area, I’ll scare it away.
A Lynx has taken up residence in the backcountry behind my house. I haven’t seen it yet, but there are fresh tracks. The fresh tracks I found are following rabbit tracks. Now I’m not stupid. I think the Lynx is having its breakfast out here. What does this have to do with my shoe?
The scent of the Lynx wafts into my nose. It’s ripe. It’s just been here. I bound off the track – that my humans kindly packed flat with their snow shoes – jump over a mound to snow and scramble into the forest. The terrain is steep. I can barely keep my grip with these silly shoes I wear, but I manage. Then, my front paw sinks deep into the snow. I fall flat on my face. When I get up, my shoe is gone. I don’t care. There’s a lynx to catch.
You probably guessed, but I don’t catch the Lynx. I finally give up and return to Kristina and Matt. Matt goes hunting for my shoe. We’ve a long way to go to get home and my paw is cold. He tracks high in the forest while I wait with Kristina.
Now she’s a softy and my foot is freezing. I lift my paw to her to make sure she knows. She takes off her mitts and circles my paw with her palm. That keeps me warm, and we wait for Matt to return with my shoe. I ask him if he found the Lynx. He laughs and holds up the shoe. They love me, I’m pretty sure they love me. Woof Woof.