There he stood behind the glass door looking out with that signature “not a care in the world” grin of his. It was early on a 10-degree morning and I was in a defiant mood thanks to four hours of strained sleep. The moment I saw that furry tank of a figure, my jagged edge softened and I felt an enhanced sense of optimism. I’ve been going to Emerald Bay Physical Therapy for six weeks now and during that time Moose and I have developed a happy rapport. When I walked in the first day and saw him, I knew I was in the right place. Any establishment with a resident dog – especially one as exceptional as this – is instantly elevated in my book.
When he's not providing support to physical therapy clients, Moose spends his time dreaming about the meaning of life. (Photo: T. Blue)
Moose is the biggest Alaskan Malamute I’ve ever seen; the kind who stops traffic wherever he goes. His paws are the size of a small bear. His tundra-ready coat makes him look twice as massive as he really is. He is so cute and unwaveringly upbeat. I marvel over the ease by which he brings joy to me and those he comes in contact with. Like any natural therapy dog, he is able to transmit and encourage healing energy simply through his presence.
Most of Moose’s time is spent either sleeping or staring at the clients with that immense, silly smile. Sometimes while I’m doing my exercises, he’ll sidle over to offer up some quiet encouragement. While I’m in the room getting specialized treatment from my therapist, he’ll wedge himself in the tightest space to be as close as possible. Without fail, he makes me feel special. I’m sure he does the same thing for many of the other clients. When dealing with a painful condition like this herniated disc in my neck, I gravitate to beacons of unconditional positivity like a flower to the sun.
Thunder Bear doesn't like having his picture taken which is ironic considering he looks like a dog model. (Photo: Ravena Blumara)
When at home, I am very lucky to have another furry bundle of love to commune with. I don’t think it would be possible to love Thunder Bear any more than Raven and I do. Since his brother Chippy has passed (and our dogs Boji and Jiboo awhile before), all of our love is concentrated towards him. Two of Roxy’s other pups are still alive in Santa Barbara, but from the perspective of our insulated bubble, he seems like the last of an amazing, eclectic breed. Thundy is extremely cute but “dashingly handsome” is a more apropos description. He carries himself with a unmistakable swagger. His coat is incredibly soft and brilliant in tone. When we were hiking with him a couple weeks ago, two girls saw him on the trail and literally ran 30 feet to come attack him. He was like the dog version of David Beckham or something.
Thundy’s lying right next to me with a look as if he knows he’s being written about. This dog has got it made at home. He has his very own easy chair which no one else sits on. His breakfast consists of free range turkey breast mixed with organic, vegetable pulp, flax oil and joint supplements. Dinner is the best kibble money can buy. Probably the most ideal thing is the proximity to this awesome hiking trail right down the street. We can walk right out the door, halfway down the block and then enter Forest Service land. It opens up to a meadow with views which captivate me every time.
In addition to bridges and creeks and scenic vistas, the meadow offers a window to the past. (Photo: T. Blue)
More so than the scenery itself, it’s the way the light interacts with the alpine surroundings which induces awe. Continuing on, we cross a couple small wooden bridges over icy wetlands. It’s so much better taking him when the water is frozen so he doesn’t come back all muddy. We like to turn around at the last footbridge which crosses a teeny creeklet with crystal clear water, a soft, sandy bottom and frozen banks. I always imagine submerging on a hot summer’s day. I haven’t seen another person out there since autumn.
We never expected to still be in South Lake Tahoe over four months later but once again Murphy’s Law prevails. It has worked out rather conveniently that this period has been the driest in recorded history. There has been barely a drop of precipitation in any form since November. There couldn’t be a sharper contrast to last year’s snow-pocolypse, which saw a couple feet still falling into June. Even the most avid skiers found themselves begging for mercy. The lack of snow has made getting around a lot easier but it definitely detracts from the novelty of living in a mountain town. This morning there was a micro-dusting; just enough to fill the cracks in the street. The first real snow of the year is expected this weekend. Maybe by Spring when there is a solid base I’ll have my neck fixed and be ready to hit the slopes. This community is bleeding due to the lack of tourism and I feel its pain.
Luda and Lionel threatening to melt through the ice at Eagle Falls. (Photo: Ravena Blumara)
It’s felt like Groundhog’s Day at times, waking up to one bluebird day after another. With no snow, the activity many turn towards is ice skating. My therapist Rick has clued me in on the local scene where people hike miles into the backcountry in pursuit of virgin ice. He and some friends went to a nearby lake on the recent full moon and played ice hockey. Apparently Moose (Rick’s dog) loves to participate by running in circles and howling. No wonder he’s so tired during the day at the office. I haven’t ice skated since I was 10, but the novelty of just gazing upon a frozen lake beckoned me into the wilderness. We hiked up to Eagle Lake a couple weeks ago with our friends Lionel and Luda who were visiting passing through on their way back to Colorado. We had never met her before and felt enriched through our time spent together. She is a Ukrainian refugee who is only 22, yet is more mature and wise than most of the people we know.
Luda and Lionel savor a romantic moment - sans skates - on Eagle Lake. (Photo: Ravena Blumara)
The hike to Eagle Lake was a long one for a 13-year-old dog like Thunder but he did great. The views of Lake Tahoe on the way were surreal. When we reached our destination, it was cute to see him wade into non-frozen shallows and drink the pristine water. I had to coax him out onto the ice as the perimeter was pretty dicey. For me, walking on a frozen lake is quite a thrill; even when you’re sure the ice is thick enough to hold. I appreciate the Rockwellian vision as much as the next romantic, but based on my last roller rink experience, I’m more than content just to be a skating spectator.
