Spaniel's Weather

We went camping once in the cold of January at Devil's Den Park. Just my husband, myself, and our cocker spaniel, Sage. We had visited previously and were eager for a chance to return before my PTO expired. Camping with a dog can be a hefty endeavor, but it never is with Sage. She is one of the few perfect creatures in the world with a quiet demeanor and obedient heart.

As it happened, the week we planned to go, the forecast turned from cloudy to near constant rain. But I knew I would enjoy the adventure either way, and most will tell you a spaniel is seldom swayed by a thing as trivial as the weather. Knowing it would be cold and wet, we loaded up the car with our weatherproof tent, extra tarps, and a small propane fueled heater. I packed warmer clothing for myself and extra blankets for all of us.

The three of us were excited for a chance to explore the trails and find hidden waterfalls. Our days were spent with her nose tracing stories in the leaves and her tail communicating them back to me in constant wags. We would wake from the stirs of warm sleep to the freezing temperatures and start moving about the camp to encourage our blood to flow while breakfast cooked at the fire.

After some walking and bathroom breaks, we would get ready for the day. I would pin Sage’s ears back in a red snood to prevent them from becoming tangled and muddy. Sage does not care much for snoods, but she tolerates them well enough knowing they mean adventure is afoot. She would walk over and hold her face out, huffing as I slid the fabric over her muzzle and positioned it just right with her ears inside. Surely the extra fur pinned against her neck offered her additional warmth as well.

Then, off we would go on our grand hike for the day. Our stomachs would be full of our warm breakfast, and our backpacks packed with lunch for us and snacks for our little Sage. Since the weather was so dreary, we were alone in the campsite and encountered very few people on the trails. So, we let Sage run free of her leash, so long as she was listening well. I would see her red snood flashing the trees beside us as she trotted along, her tail constantly wagging.

She would examine any number of things along the way. When we topped steep cliffs, she would peer over the edge with my husband. She would jump atop moss covered logs and run to their end before launching herself out into the leaves. She found sticks, rocks, and all sorts of treasures buried in the forest floor. Occasionally we would cross a river or creek that she would delightedly splash in true cocker fashion. At one point, she even blew bubbles into a puddle.

It rained almost all day every day, the shower only teetering off in the afternoons briefly before resuming at night. On one frigid morning we hiked to the top of a cliff and watched a snowstorm blow in from across the valley to cover us and the earth quickly in a thin layer. It was Sage's first time seeing snow, and she delighted in the experience. She zoomed about, leaving tracks, and carried on her back a sheet of white.

As one may imagine, by the end of each day, Sage was rather soiled. Her coat would be thoroughly soaked from the rain and charging through the puddles and wet leaves. She never minded though. After all, no spaniel worth their salt is bothered by a little water. Nor was she ever cold in the chill weather while we were off exploring and quickly moving about.

But, as the sun set on the first day, we realized Sage would not be able to rest in camp once what little warmth the sunlight offered was gone. The blankets we had brought for her kennel would get wet and keep her cold, and the fire stayed too damp to roar large enough to dry her. And thus, on that first night, she pressed into my side, shivering, and wanting hugs.

Unsure of what to do, but feeling like I had somehow failed her, I took her in to the showers with me. I was not sure what to do about her wet coat. I had brought a towel for her but drying a spaniel completely with a towel is near impossible. Thankfully, the park bathrooms were well upkept, brightly lit, and heated. We stayed long after my shower, allowing her time to warm up and dry off. I had brought her brushes with me and combed out the mud and tangles as she dozed on a wooden bench in the bathroom.

On our walk back to camp, I noted she was still cold and shivering. She seemed reluctant to step near puddles and get wet again. So, when we got back to camp, I retrieved my dirty compression sweater from the day and told my husband I had an idea. He took one glance at our pitiful pup and scooped her up into his arms, crooning to her and noting to me she was shivering.

I agreed and asked him to hold her while I slipped the blue shirt over her head and pulled her front legs through the sleeves. Seeing what I intended to do, Curtis joined me and together we rolled up the sleeves so that she could move. With a hair tie, I tied up the extra fabric around her stomach. Over the top, Curtis fastened a dirty t-shirt to help protect my favorite sweater.

Once we were done, we stepped back to admire our work. Sage stood there, stiff legged and unsure of what to do. Her sweet brown eyes beckoned us for affection.

"Baby Sage, Baby Sage, come here," we crooned to her in an effort to sway her forward. Her little tail wagged and then she attempted a few uncertain and clumsy steps. After a few tries though, she quickly mastered it. We laughed at her cute attempts then took turns holding her in our arms, cradled like a baby. She was a warm little bundle and licked our noses in thanks.

That night we decided Sage (though her kennel was in the tent with us) deserved the heater aimed on her instead of us. It wasn't doing us much good, and we were worried with only blankets to snuggle, she may not stay warm enough. We let her snuggle with us in bed for a little bit, but even brushed out, her coat still dumped sand and smelled strongly of earth.

The heater and shirt worked well. Come morning, Sage was happily asleep, she had even kicked her blankets away, and warm. I let her keep the shirts on as we strolled around camp while Curtis got the fire going. I would take them off once we were no longer milling about. When I did remove them, the fur on her back spiked with static, and she burst about camp in zooms of energy.

On the second night of struggling with our wet dog and being cold ourselves, genius struck. We were also feeling miserable once the sun set around 7 or so. By 8, it was too dark for us to do much other than sit around the fire. And, when the sky is dumping a near constant sprinkle, the fire loses its appeal once dinner is prepared and eaten. Since we were alone in the park, and still wide awake, Curtis suggested we both shower in the men's room and simply lock the main door so no one could enter in the event that a stranger did join us. We had a set of cards we could take with us and we could sit and play in the warmth of the bathroom instead of the cold of our tent.

This worked well, and Sage loved a chance to explore the new space. She walked around the bathroom, sniffing each toilet and fixture before settling down to nap.

"It will take her a while to dry enough to put the shirts back on her," I explained to Curtis.

"Just hold her under the dryer," he remarked. I balked at the statement.

"Yours works?" I questioned. The women's was out, and I had just assumed the men's was as well.

Together, we held Sage under the dryer and brushed her coat as the warm air blasted it. This quickly became our daily routine. Showers, hand drying Sage, bundling her up in our shirts, then cards while she napped at our feet, explored the bathroom, or sat in our lap. If it wasn't raining, we would linger around the fire and roast marshmallows. Sage would sit pressed against my legs or in my arms. But most nights once we returned to camp she eagerly went and climbed into her kennel to snuggle down in the blankets and sleep away the long day.

Sage became fond of this routine, and fond of the shirts. She would willingly stick her head through and let me wrap them up around her. Then, tail wagging, she would stroll about happy as could be. There is something to be said about a happy cocker; their eyes sparkle with merriment and their cobby bums bounce with their steps.

And, the hiking with Sage during the day was quite marvelous. We crept behind waterfalls, climbed atop cliffs, and slipped into caves. Sage led the charge on some items but hung back to follow on others. She certainly made the trip more memorable with her presence and silent commentary. And, I look forward to the many camping trips still to come where I am hopefully always as adventurous and warm as my precious Baby Sage.