I left Bo on the ledge with the packs and returned to the ground to gather kindling and dry wood. I pulled one of the drawers out of the desk and filled it with loose paper and kindling and small branches. On my second trip, I sought out larger pieces of wood that would burn longer and generate good, sustaining coals, and some pieces long enough that could be used to ward off any wild intruder that might venture up the path toward us out of curiosity or aggression. Long ago, I had committed to never being without fire, if possible. My pack contained a four pack of Bic lighters, a box of wood safety matches, and a flint fire starter, all in a Ziploc bag. Fire was one of the most critical elements of survival.
I started the fire at the head of the narrow trail onto the ledge; I hoped that would deter anything else from coming up to join us. Once started, though, I reconsidered the sergeant’s body. I dug into my pack and found the headlamp I used around camp on my trips. I had three of them, but I would need to use them sparingly to save the batteries for as long as possible. I went back down to the sergeant body. The darkness and narrow beam of light helped me not getting a full reminder of what he looked like now. I rolled him over, unbuckled his sidearm at the waist and the leg. I unbuttoned his shirt and rolled him again to remove it, then took his belt. The shirt would be large enough to use as a light jacket and to wrap myself in at night. It was now dark and was all that I dared to try to accomplish.
Now sitting on the ledge, Bo tightly on one side of me and the fire on the other, the reality of our situation was sinking into me. Up to this point, my actions had been rote, responses drilled into me by my father and years of practice and experience. Now, sitting in the quiet of a darkened forest, the new reality of existence came crashing down over me. Despite all the experience in survival hiking, purposely forcing myself to live as much off the land as possible, this situation would provide no alternative. Before, there was always the underlying knowledge that after the 4 days, week, or even 2 weeks, I would be back to the jeep, then a warm shower, bed and clothes, and whatever food I desired. A sense of almost overwhelming hopelessness began to come over me … almost overwhelming because, as though feeling my mood change, Bo lifted his head off my lap and pressed it into my body seeking petting and ear scratching. I smiled down at him and hugged him tightly. Thank god, I had Bo!
My mood shifted to the tenderness and special relationship we shared. As I scratched his ears and stroked his head, neck, and shoulders, my mind going back to our beginnings. Bo was a stray German Shepard/Wolf mix, at least it was what seemed to be the case without actual DNA testing. Where a normal male German Shepard might be 26 inches in height and 85 pounds, Bo was 30 inches and 105 pounds. I was 2 days into a hike alone through some rough backcountry when I came face-to-face with a bear. I had been careless, preoccupied by the scenery of the valley below, with the opposite snow covered peaks reflected in the quiet lake surface. Being careless and inattentive can sometimes cause you to misstep and lose your footing, tumbling off the trail or twisting an ankle. Or, it can cause you to walk between a bear cub on the slop above the trail and the mother bear below the trail. That’s what happened to me and there may not be a worse natural situation to be in than separating a mother bear from her cub.
It was the experience that convinced my dad that I needed some kind of protection, if I was going to insist on solo trips into the wild. It was the motivation for the bow that I carried ever since. In this case, however, I had no weapon of worth and even though I was slowly and steadily backing away, the mother was aggressively stalking me. Once aroused, they are very dangerous creatures. I was staring into the eyes of a 250-pound protective and fierce beast with only one thing on its mind: to tear me apart. I backed up, but it kept coming right down the trail to me. I knew I was done. If I survived at all it would be severely injured, and as far from help as I was, I wouldn’t likely survive.
That was when I met Bo. I almost didn’t see him coming; I was so fixated on the eyes of the bear closing on me. I did, though, just a flash of dark rising over the rise in the trail behind the bear. I swore it was a wolf and this couldn’t get any worse that I now had two dominant predators about to fight over which eats me. It barked and snarled as it charged down the trail. The noise caused the bear to turn, just as the wolf leapt into air and landed on the back of the bear, it was shaken off and they were face-to-face, both growling and intimidating. I didn’t know what to think, now the wolf was between me and the bear, but it was completely intent on the bear, its back to me.
I imaged that they were cussing and calling each other all sorts of nasty names, but a fight never came. In the end, the bear backed off, looked to her cub, and retreated with the cub following close behind. When the wolf turned to me, I wondered if I had another problem, but he just ambled off the trail and disappeared. But not really. I turned several times that day to find him behind me and there was no menace in his attitude.
That night he was just outside the light of my fire but I entice him in with scraps from my dinner. He seemed nervous and would react to sudden movements from me, but he spent most of the night near the fire. For the next several days, he remained nearby during my travels and I came to realize that he might have some wolf in him, but he was also part German Shepard. At the end of my trip, he was still with me. He had come out of nowhere and literally saved my life. He had no collar and he had been out in the wild for some time. I opened the back door of the jeep to test him and he watched me. I patted the rear seat and gave him room. He looked inside, sniffed, looked up at me, and jumped in. That was almost 3 years ago and he has been my constant companion ever since.
Warm thoughts and warmer feelings. His head resting in my lap as I gently stroked him. My hand running down onto his chest, I could feel his breathing had become even and shallow, a good indication that he was resting deeply, if not sleeping. I loved this dog, not just because he saved me. I loved him more for all that he has given me since then. I’m not great with people, but with him, everything is easier. He seems to anticipate me, watches over me, and I over him. It has also been awkward, intimidating. The feelings are strong; the touches are familiar and reassuring. Yes, mine to him, but also his to me. His licks can feel like kisses. He presses himself into me with a familiarity and self-assuredness that is disarming. I hug him to me with an intensity that sometimes scares me. There are times, when I am dozing, wearing only a t-shirt and panties, that I become aware of him, sniffing me, catching my scent. Even more, there have been times I have opened my legs while keeping my eyes closed, too enthralled in the potential to have it end without some understanding of what he wants. I have felt his snout at my crotch, I have felt myself get wet … a couple times I have felt him swipe a tongue out to touch me, then pull back. Every time it has happened, I have curled up as if I am asleep and changing positions … but the reality is that each time by that slightest of touch I have nearly crashed into orgasm. That is what has scared me. All of normal society would say that is completely wrong.