Mongo is a good canine citizen. His walkers always make an effort to pick up his leavings. And he often helps police the area by picking up things like tasty food wrappers left behind by other visitors. One thing he is really good at finding is birds, dead or alive.
Dad had completed his Great Backyard Bird Count survey on-line, and was now getting ready for a nice walk through Lincoln Park with Mongo. The sky was a beautiful cobalt blue, and everywhere Dad looked seemed to be a picture perfect view. On the drive over to Mom-mom’s house, he caught a glimpse of the Sound and was so struck by the image, he immediately detoured to take a picture. Read More…
Dad and Mongo grabbed some food to go, and then headed towards the West Seattle Ferry Docks. It was time to pay a visit to George and Linda at the Palouse Winery, and explore a little bit of Vashon Island in the process.
They were lucky on the way to Vashon, the ferry was loading just as Dad pulled into the line. It was another cloudy and wet day, but that was not the kind of thing to dissuade Dad and Mongo from a hike. In fact, it just meant that they would most likely have the trail to themselves. And that the winery tasting room would be pretty quiet also, meaning there would be more snacks for Dad.
One dock worker directed Dad onto the ferry, and then another one made sure Dad’s truck was properly parked. He made sure Dad was up close to the car in front, and then crossed his wrists to show dad to cut the motor. Dad smiled at the man’s use of the aircraft marshaling signal. It seemed appropriate since Mongo and Dad were going to stop by George’s winery and George had been Dad’s instructor when Dad got his tailwheel rating in the Cub. The signal brought back fond memories of some of Dad’s piloting adventures.
Dad hopped out and opened the hatch on the truck canopy to let Mongo see out. The people behind him were quite amused as Mr. M made many different faces at them from the back of the truck.
Mongo was ready for some outdoor time. Dad took him to the big park by the water. They headed into the forest trails, and we meandered back and forth through the woods. It was gray and cloudy, but they were having a fun time in the wet forest. Dad was hoping to scrape some of the mud from Ellensburg off his boots, but he did not have much luck.
Dad had to be careful walking with Mongo as Mongo’s “world view” was over a meter lower than Dad’s. Sometimes Mongo wanted to go under fallen trees that would taken Dad’s head clean off. They often disagreed on which was the best path to take, but since they were headed nowhere in particular, they could often choose neither, particularly if each trail in one direction was difficult, as in one had low obstacles and one had high obstacles, Dad would just head off in another direction.
Finally, they popped out of the forest near the path to the beach. The path runs along the face of the bluff on its way to the water. Mongo tugged on the leash all the way down the long path. The path wasn’t very wide and people who were not dog friendly often pinned themselves up against the bluff as Mr. M went by. He is not aggressive, but at 90 lbs with a head like mastiff, he has an intimidating appearance. And that perception is amplified in close quarters.
At the beach, Dad looked down and saw he still had mud on his boots. Mongo and Dad walked to the edge of the water and soaked their feet. Mongo came out nice and clean. Dad still had mud on his boots.
They walked down the path at the edge of the beach. Lots of dogs were out for walks. Dad only let Mongo visit with the friendly ones. Dad still didn’t trust pointy dogs to be polite to Mongo. Then they headed on the uphill part of the loop back to the car. Dad stood in a stream to try wash some more mud off his shoes. Mongo took a drink from the stream. Dad stepped out of the stream with his boots still covered in mud.
At the top of the loop, there was a group of women all waving sticks in the air. Mongo and Dad were intrigued. As they drew closer, they saw that this was a fly fishing class for women. They all seemed to be enjoying themselves as they flung the fly line around the field. Dad and Mongo watched for a moment. Some of the women were quite good. Then Mongo and Dad headed over to the truck.
Dad looked down. His boots were still muddy. He changed into his trail shoes and put the boots in the back of the truck with Mongo again. Then they drove off to get lunch.