Where There's a Will, There's a Way

I know, this is a hiking column and I’m sure I drive some other folks who write about hiking crazy by how I deviate from a simple, straight forward piece of writing about trail conditions and elevation gain.  I know…I should be writing about fall foliage and a hike that takes us through the bright orange, yellow, and red canopy of the season to a lofty viewpoint allowing us to drink in October’s tapestry as it spreads out below us.  After all, we are in the White Mountains, the most beautiful place in the world this time of year.  And yet this week’s column offers a different look at this season, and the autumn of one’s life.  And once again, I’m sure I will disappoint some of my peers who write about these trails we all tramp. 

Each morning, the first thing I do when I wake up is spend five minutes counting my blessings.  I start out each day with what I call an attitude for gratitude.  Over the past few years I’ve started off that list with a little black and white dog, the mountains we live in, our story that’s been published not just by this newspaper every two weeks but also by HarperCollins in book form, and more than any of that, I am thankful for this simpler more soulful existence we’ve found a way to live.  Not everyone finds their dreams in this lifetime.  And fewer still can live them on a daily basis.  That’s how fortunate I am. 

But what makes our life all the better is that from time to time we can take our passion and use it to make someone else’s life just a little better.  What could be better than doing what you love and have it impact someone else’s life? 

Through the years we’ve used our hiking as a way to raise money and awareness for the fight against cancer, for animals in need, and for literacy.  And yet nothing quite compares to those rare treks when Atticus and I take a friend to the top of a mountain and let them feel what we get to appreciate regularly. 

As anyone who knows us will tell you, Atticus and I are mostly a private pair.  Yes, we have our friends and we used to hike from time to time with others, but these days the trails and our experiences on them mean just too much for us to give them up to someone else.  The woods are where he and I bond.  It’s where our friendship is renewed time and again.  But every now and then if someone is special to us, we share this intimate corner of our lives with them. 

Over the next few days we hope to be doing just that.  We have this elderly friend…his name is Will.  He’s mostly blind to the point where he can see only shapes and shadows.  He is deaf and arthritic and when we met him in May he could barely walk and he was in such pain he didn’t liked to be touched.  Like Atticus he is a miniature schnauzer and through an inconceivable twist of fate, the family he lived with for the entire fifteen years of his life dropped him off in a kill shelter in New Jersey.  Fortunately for Will, the New Jersey Schnauzer Rescue Network swooped in and saved his life.  But they knew they had a difficult case on their hands and would have a hard time placing him in a home.  I surprised both Atticus and myself when I decided that we would take him in. 

Atticus has always been the only dog in my life.  He’s great with animals – even moose and bear – but he’s never had to share me with another four-legged creature.  Not full time anyway.  But knowing him as I do I believed he’d be fine with it.  And he’s been nothing but patient and understanding and kind from the very beginning. 

When Will first came to live with us I wondered why he was still alive.  That’s how unhealthy he was.  I wondered out loud in conversations with our vet Christine O’Connell how long I should keep him alive before relieving him of his misery.  For miserable he was.  And who wouldn’t be? Live with a family for the entirety of your life and when you are blind and deaf and in such pain all you want to do is bite someone when they try to touch you, abandoned in place where you are behind bars, unfamiliar with your surroundings, quite frightened, and left to die.  It had to be overwhelming for him.  Just the thought of such despair crushes me even today.

The only reason we took Will in was to give him a place to die in dignity.  He deserved that.  We all do.  But a funny thing happened that first month.  He didn’t die.  Nor did he die the second or third month.  And now it has been five months and Will is not only alive, he’s thriving.  He’s happy, self-assured, and he’s learned to trust again.   There are not many people who could go through what he has and come out half as well. 

Before I saw Will, I thought it would be great if we could get him up a mountain with us.  But he was in no condition to do that.  However, over time his hips have come back a bit.  He now lets me massage them, something that would have elicited a bite from him in the past.  And while he will never be able to walk up a mountain he may be ready to sit in a backpack.  Tomorrow morning, we’ll head to Eastern Mountain Sports to see if he feels comfortable sitting in one.  If all goes well, the following day my two best friends will lead Will and I up a mountain.

Over the last five months Will has developed quite a fan club.  His story resonates with many folks who gain strength from his resilience and understand that if it wasn’t too late for him to love, and be loved, and to live, then it’s not too late for them to have those gifts as well. 

Five months ago, a little blind dog was left to die alone in a shelter.  This weekend he could be sitting on top of a mountain, loved, and adored.  Some mountains take five months to climb, some journeys take a lifetime, and Will reminds us that it’s never too late to find your way home. 

Answering Five Questions from Friends on our Following Atticus Facebook Page

Donna Agripino: I must ask, do you every worry about Atticus falling or slipping off a cliff? Especially in winter? (I am not trying to be funny) it's just that some of the photos of him make it look like he is so close to the edge. Thanks. A former No. Conway resident.

I don’t Donna.  Atticus knows his limitations and he’s not afraid to express them.  If there’s a stream crossing he cannot get across, he comes to me to carry him over.  If a slide in winter is unsafe, he knows to let me go first – otherwise he goes on his own; and if a stream looks frozen but isn’t, he won’t go.  I don’t know how he knows all of this, but I imagine it’s a level of trust we share, which is a byproduct of Paige having me carry him everywhere we went that first month we were together.  The only reason we took on the three winter quests we did was because I knew we had the ability to communicate our limitations to each other.    I wish was just as self-assured as he is. 

For me, it’s about trust. It’s about respecting Atticus’s right to be what he wants to be. 

Besides, I’m the one with the fear of heights, not Atticus.

Francy Roentz Martin: “Why do you hike at night? I’m not afraid of the dark, but that seems scary!”

Francy, you may not be afraid of the dark, but I am – well, kind of anyway. 

I’m not afraid of the dark in my home or walking through town, but being on top of a mountain miles away from the closest person under the cloak of darkness often scares the dickens out of me.  And yet I do it. 

I think of my fear of the night woods as an irrational one and, as is the case with my fear of heights, I like to challenge my irrational fears.  I think it’s helpful and healthy to dance with our fears from time to time to put things in perspective and stretch our comfort zone.    

I had a little bit of a breakthrough when we did some winter hikes when the days are shorter and the mileage is, at times, longer.  By necessity we’d start out in the dark or end in it – or both.  Nothing horrible every happened and I realized it was both thrilling and unnerving to challenge that fear.

In the winter it’s not as big a deal because the trees are bare and the ground is covered in snow and a bright moon can light up the forest like a photographic negative.  But just to be safe, and to keep my childhood fear of the dark at a safe distance, I always bring at least three headlamps – just in case!

Jody Riger: Where do you see yourself five years from now? (And I don't necessarily mean geographically.)

Living with my wife and Atticus in a small out-of-the-way mountain farmhouse with a wraparound porch, a double bathtub, and fieldstone fireplace; where I’d continue writing, and the three of us would take in abused, neglected, and unwanted farm animals allowing them to live out their lives with the dignity they hadn’t known up until that point. By this time I’ll have perfected the world’s best vegan muffins and we’ll spend our days appreciating nature, hiking mountains, learning from each other and the animals who live with us, and writing about it all.  Our nights will be spent by the fire or out under the stars if the weather is just right.  Pretty simple really.  Simple but laced with bliss.

 

Lynn Hartkemeyer Laney: What is your favorite trait of Schnauzers?

I’m probably a bad person to ask that of, Lynn.  I never think of Atticus as being a schnauzer and Paige tells me that’s part of the reason he’s turned out the way he has. 

I’m not into the entire breed specific thing and more often than not I’m turned off by it.  For me, I think considering a breed is just another limitation.  I simply like dogs.  More importantly I like animals.  Heck, if I could, I’d take in an elephant. 

I know that may sound funny since Max, Atticus and Will have all been schnauzers, but the truth is I gave Max a home because he needed one. I didn’t know anything about the schnauzer breed other than I thought they looked rather grouchy and stuffy.  Then I got Atticus because I wanted another Max; or at least an “unbroken” Max.  Paige, who bred hundreds of schnauzers (and rescued many more), has always said that Atticus isn’t much like any schnauzer she’d ever known. She felt he defied any such labels.  I liked that.  And Will came to us, not because he’s a schnauzer, but because his photo was posted on our Facebook page and he was mostly blind and deaf, old and arthritic, and needed a home but was unlikely to find one.  I could have cared less if he were a schnauzer, beagle, pug, or puggle.  What mattered to me was that he was small and he was good with other animals.

I don’t believe in limitations for myself or for my friends so I think it’s okay to allow a dog to be what he wants to be.  Nowadays lots of people think hiking with schnauzers is quite normal, but they didn’t seem to think so when we first started out, especially in winter.  Had I listened to others and what was expected of the breed, we probably wouldn’t have done much of what we’ve done and Atticus would have spent most of his life, if not all of it, with a leash on. 

The other day I noticed a few people wanted to know why Atticus and Will don’t have beards like other schnauzers.  I don’t really mind how others groom their dogs, but I think a beard on a dog makes about as much sense as a tie on a man.  I’m not really into what’s outside of a dog as much as wants inside of on.  What I want for the dogs in my life is for them to be comfortable, cared for, and confident.      

Jeff Meunier: Any regret about not being able to complete all the climbs you set out to do, and do you plan on making any further attempts?

Good question, Jeff. 

No regret.  At first there was, but that was just my ego screaming like a six year old.  The truth, as it turns out, even if I couldn’t see it way back then, was that it wasn’t about reaching 96 peaks in 90 days of winter.  It was about the journey, not the destination.  And the journey over all those mountains was the lesser of the journeys.  The more important ones had to do with my journey back to myself, and the friendship and love I share with Atticus.

It’s ironic, I think, that in some ways it’s more fitting that we didn’t reach our goals in any of the three winters we set out to reach a set number of peaks.  By not reaching 48, 96, 0r 96 peaks we failed in our numbers, but succeeded in seeing to it we were safe and knew our limitations. 

In the end, it didn’t matter that we ended up with 41, 66, or 81 peaks.  Turns out it wasn’t the accomplishment on the mountains that mattered, but where those trails took us.

You know, Tennyson has that great line at the end of his poem Ulysses: “To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.”  That’s what matters to me.  To strive to be more human, to seek to become a better person and a better friend, and to find out what’s important. 

A Shared Joy

Tom & Atticus: a shared joy.

Black Cap is our fall back mountain. It’s the place we go when we don’t have time for a longer hike but want to experience a summit and soak in spectacular views.  It’s also the mountain we seek out when we are returning to the trails after a physical ailment. 

A couple of summers ago I nearly died of septic shock and was in North Conway’s Memorial Hospital for eleven days after my gall bladder blew up.  My doctors, in turn, nearly died when they discovered four weeks to the day of cutting me open Atticus and I had climbed Black Cap, even though I still had tubes sticking out of my torso and a large drainage bag.  But hey, sometimes you just need to go where you get your strength. 

Last Sunday Atticus and I returned to Black Cap, this time it was because he’s been suffering as of late.  A month ago he was detected with a tick-borne disease and was put on a serious dose of medication that appeared to take as much out of him as it did the disease.  Our vet described it in simple terms so that I could relate, “It’s like we would feel if we had mono.” 

But over the past week he’s been regaining his energy with his health and I know my friend well enough to understand he missed sitting on top of a mountain and it would be good for his health and his spirit…just as it was for mine in the summer of 2010.    

At 2,356 feet, Black Cap has a substantial height without being overpowering.  And because most of the elevation is gained in the drive in our car along Hurricane Mountain Road, it’s a perfect mountain for rehabbing on.  The trail is easy enough and the elevation gain is only about 500 feet in just over three miles, round trip.  But for the ease of the hike, the bang for the buck is incredible when you see the views.

On the way up, Atticus did what he’s been doing for the past month – and is so out of character for him – he got behind me and let me lead.  But as we reached the familiar fork in the trail and went off the right to avoid any potential crowds, at least for a little bit, the slightest bounce returned to his legs.  We kept curling around the back side of the mountain, slowly gaining elevation on this, the more gentle route to the top, and when we were within a quarter of a mile of the top he sensed it and picked up the pace even more. 

There have been times on an unfamiliar peak when we are close to the summit where I’ll say, “Do you want to go say hello to the summit?”  His response is a quicker pace, occasionally even a bouncy trot with ears happily flopping around as he runs forward with enthusiasm I haven’t seen known since I was a child.  But he’s been to Black Cap enough to know when he’s close and he took the lead and led us up over the stone ledges to the top.

And there, once we poked out of the trees as it always is, was that spectacular visage waiting for us.  North stands Kearsage looking noble and massive.  Off of Kearsage’s right shoulder stands Evans Notch and several of the Maine mountains.  Off of its left shoulder and in the background is Washington, and the rest of the Presidential Range looking stately.

When I picked up and sat him on my shoulder he was quite at home as we looked to the west towards the Moats, Cathedral and White Horse ledges, and the Pemigewasset Wilderness beyond.  And to the southwest, almost looking like a faded painting from one of the White Mountain artists of the 1800s, stood the rocky ridge of Chocorua.  Behind it was much of the Sandwich Range from Passaconaway through Whiteface, the Sleepers, and the Tripyramids.  We know all these peaks.  We’ve climbed them more than once and they are like looking into the faces of old friends for us. 

Atticus sat on my shoulder and together we gazed out at the view until I heard him sigh and felt that comforting moment when he released his weight and completely relaxed into me.  After drinking our fill of the views we turned to the camera and this is the sight you see here.  It wasn’t until we got home and I saw the photo that I noticed that great, giddy grin of his. 

Atticus is now ten years of age.  Any person who has ever lived with a dog will tell you how such a simple sentence will snake its way deep into your heart and touch a place of sadness.  And when I look at that photo I drink it in now as we drank in those views this past weekend: with hunger, appreciation, and gratitude.

When A. A. Milne penned Winnie the Pooh I cannot imagine he ever completely understood how much wisdom would last for generations from the pages of his little children’s book.  Just consider this single bittersweet sentence: “I used to believe in forever, but forever’s too good to be true.” 

Love a dog and you find yourself connected perpetually with childhood.  You feel the happiness, the carefree nature, the innocence of it – all through a link with a four-legged friend who can’t speak English.  It’s such a gift. 

Here I sit now, writing this, knowing that we are on the backside of the mountain we started climbing so many years ago, and even if Atticus lives for another nine or ten years it will simply not be enough for me.  Just as it’s not long enough for anyone who has ever known such friendship. 

When Atticus first arrived in my life I had no idea where that little puppy and I would go together.  Not even my imagination could give me the slightest hint of the endless mountains we’d climb, or that we would end up living in them, embracing a simple but joyous existence.  But this photo says so much.  It’s the love we share and the love of the mountains we both share. 

It’s for this reason that I love this photo.  The connection between us is evident; the smiles are just as connected as our bodies are.  We are two unique souls who found our way to one another.

Yes, I am haunted by the thought that "forever's too good to be true," but I’m also old enough to understand that all we really have is today…and the wagonloads of memories we’ve collected together.

Thank goodness for all those experiences. . . . and for photographs like this one.      

Laura Lucy of White Birch Books Writes About Following Atticus, the Paperback

Laura and Barb of White Birch Books with Atticus and the cake sent to them
by HarperCollins for selling 1,000 copies of Following Atticus.  They have now
sold over 1,700 copies of the hardcover!

Laura Lucy of White Birch Books pens a regular column for the MountainEar in North Conway. In the latest issue she wrote about the paperback launch for Following Atticus.  I'll let her take it from here...

Although it is over a month away, we are frantically getting ready for the publication of “Following Atticus” in paperback. The Animal Rescue League- North is putting on a great evening at the Red Jacket, complete with dinner, a raffle and a discussion with author Tom Ryan. The event is on Tuesday, August 7, and starts at 6 p.m. with a little social time. Tickets are $50 and all proceeds benefit the shelter. It’s going to be a wonderful evening and we’re very happy to be a part of it.

Having an event of this magnitude to celebrate the paperback release of a book is fairly unprecedented, but let me give you a little history. When we realized this book was first coming out, we knew it was going to be big. And for those of you who are unfamiliar with the story, “Following Atticus” is the remarkable true story of a man and a dog embarking on the challenge of a lifetime. That’s the broad story. To be more specific, Tom and Atticus, a miniature schnauzer, attempted to climb all of the 4000 footers, TWICE, in one winter. Quite a feat, to be sure. The fact that they didn’t quite make it is overshadowed by the story of the bond between Tom and Atticus and their life-changing attempt.

Last September, we celebrated the release of the book with a kick off event up at the Theater in the Wood. We had a great turnout and through pre-sales of the books, we were able to donate $400 to the shelter. From there, the book was chosen as the Valley-wide read for One Book One Valley 2011. The Lutheran Church was packed to the rafters for the final presentation. And constantly, since day one, we have been getting calls from all over the country for signed and “pawtographed” copies of “Following Atticus.” These people are dog people, many of them miniature schnauzer owners. They are hikers. They are pet lovers. They were inspired by the story and want to get multiple copies to share with friends and family. It has been a wonder to us in the bookstore and not a week has gone by when we haven’t sold a copy of this book.

With the paperback release coming up, we all knew we had to do something special. Although I see Tom and Atticus on a regular basis, I know there are people still finding his story. He’s had a fairly aggressive tour schedule – and will be touring again for the paperback, but he hasn’t spoken up here since last November. We wanted an opportunity for people to hear Tom in person and to get his story first hand. He’ll also be talking about what a difference a year makes and the addition of Will, a schnauzer rescue, to his household. And best of all – the evening benefits the local shelter.

At White Birch Books, we meet a lot of authors and read a lot of books, but we don’t often get to be involved to this extent. We have enjoyed our wild ride with Tom and Atticus and are very much looking forward to celebrating this next chapter (ha!) with them.Tickets for the event need to be purchased in advance and are available at White Birch Books or at the Conway Shelter, or online at conwayshelter.org.

(And remember, a portion of all pre-ordered copies of the paperback of Following Atticus goes to the Animal Rescue League North.  So give her a call to get your autographed and pawtographed copies of the paperback at 603-356-3200.) 

Here's To the Power of Possibilities

The economy continues to disappoint; our country is still at war with outsiders while Democrats and Republicans go to war with each other, and the fact that it's an election year only makes it worse; and every time we turn on the television there's more bad news.  Even the Red Sox have fallen into an uninspired early season tailspin rendering a large percentage of New England utterly hopeless.  So every now and again it's great to stumble upon a story with a happy ending.

About a month ago some hikers were making their way down the Davis Path, a rugged trail that runs from just south of Crawford Notch up to Mount Washington.  There are some beautiful peaks along the way, including Crawford, which is a steep climb but just over two miles from Route 302, then comes Resolution and Giant Stairs.  Eventually, as you continue along the Montalbon Ridge, you reach Davis and Isolation before the final climb up towards Mount Washington.  It's a great place to hike but the initial climb makes it tough and since there is only one 4,000-foot peak on the trail (Isolation) it's left to hiking purists and not as many peakbaggers clutter the trail.  Hence, it’s not at all crowded. As for regular foot traffic from the public?  Forget about it.  It just doesn't happen. 

You can imagine how surprised these hikers were when they came upon a box literally in the middle of nowhere.  And the box, which was pretty big, was moving!  They carefully peered inside and what they saw astounded them - a small but fat, unkempt dog with a flat face and watery eyes.  It was clear that someone had gone to great efforts to abandon this rather scruffy looking old fellow.

The hikers saved the little dog's life.  Had they left him there - as someone else had - he would have been nothing more than bear bait.  They ended up bringing him to the Conway Area Humane Society and after taking one look at this anonymous and unwanted dog, the shelter staff dubbed him "Scruffy".

It always saddens me that some people are capable of such thoughtless and even cruel actions toward animals.  And it seems that most of the problems animals suffer from are brought about by people, and not themselves.  So it's only right that every now and again people do something to right these wrongs.  And that's exactly what happened. 

When I learned of "Scruffy" on the Conway Area Humane Society's Facebook page and realized he needed some financial help to get the necessary medical tests an older, abandoned dog needs, and understood how much money most of our shelters don't have, I took a chance and posted Scruffy's picture and his tale on the Following Atticus Facebook page used to promote our book.  A most astounding thing took place.  After reading Scruffy's story, people from various parts of the country sent in donations.  Those who are Following Atticus and have been nicknamed Atticus's Army because of their unbound enthusiasm, sent in various amounts understanding that the money would go to Scruffy's medical bills and if anything was left over it would go to the shelter.  Within a week more than $2,500 came in! 

You can just imagine the smiles on the faces of those people who are involved with the shelter.  Such things don’t typically happen but there was obviously something about Scruffy’s plight that touched a chord in many of us. 

And better than that, White Mountain photographer Corey Engfer, and his wife Carrie, learned of Scruffy and decided to adopt him. But that's not where the story ends.  What happened next was a cruel twist to what should have been a very happy ending. 

Scruffy was facing numerous medical problems and before too long he had a laundry list of issues and he ended up in Portsmouth down in an intensive care hospital.  Poor Scruffy.  And poor Corey and Carrie, too.  Here they had opened their home to this little guy with nothing but high hopes and warm hearts and within a week he was in trouble and the medical bills were mounting.  Many other folks would have surrendered Scruffy back to the shelter and left it at that.  But Corey and Carrie couldn't imagine doing such a thing.  Unfortunately, they had no idea how they could possibly afford the bills.  They were heartbroken in more ways than one.

This is when the story takes another positive turn.  Once again we posted about Scruffy's needs and "Atticus's Army" rose to the cause and within 36 hours more than $2,000 came in.  Had it not been for this money Carey and Carrie...and more importantly Scruffy would have been in a quandary. 

And the story gets even better, when the animal hospital ended up charging about a $1,000 less than what was expected and the bills are no longer insurmountable.

It wouldn't be a happy ending, however, unless Scruffy got to go home with his new family and that's exactly what happened on Monday evening.  Medically cleared, he's now home where he belongs, in a quaint house by the water in picturesque Tamworth, New Hampshire so far from where he was found a month ago in many ways. 

The late mythologist Joseph Campbell pointed out many times in his writing that we often find our treasure when things are darkest.  We get gold out of the cave we are most afraid to go into and only end up there because of what seems like a wrong turn.  So it's clear to me that one little dog who was left to die in a box on a less than crowded hiking trail has not only survived – he has brought out the best in people, nearly all of whom have never met him and never will. 

So yes, it is an election year, and yes, there are wars going on, and yes, the economy still sucks, and plenty of people have their share of reasons not to believe in happy endings.  But in Tamworth there is a little four legged fellow who doesn't look quite so scruffy anymore, who now has a reason to smile with his tongue dangling out of his mouth, and he sits at the center of a story that proves good things do happen in this world. 

Here's to the power of possibilities.  Here's to a little dog who wouldn't give up and his new family that didn't give up on him.  And here's to the generosity of strangers. 

Here's to happy endings. 

Atticus Is Simply . . . Atticus

Atticus has not been well lately. It’s not been anything earth-shattering and I don’t think anyone else would even notice it. Heck, on Tuesday of last week we hiked Pierce and Eisenhower, two scenic four-thousand footers. Then on the weekend we climbed South and Middle Moat. The original plan was to continue over to North Moat as well and then double back along the trail to our car. But a most unusual thing happened. After we left Middle and were headed for North we were sitting in the woods in the growing warmth and sharing a drink. I fed Atticus a snack and as has always been our custom I asked him, “You want to keep going?”

The question is merely a formality because he always gets up and leads the way, but I ask it because it seems like the right thing to do. As Atticus has always seen it, we go up until there is no more up. 

This time, however, he hesitated – which is unusual in itself, gave me a searching look, got to his feet, and then turned back down the trail the way we’d come. I was surprised by his choice, but pleased nevertheless. You see, from the very beginning I was determined he would not be my dog, I wouldn’t be his owner or his master, and he definitely wouldn’t be my fur baby – my least favorite term of all. In my mind all of those terms take away from who he is and they diminish him (and in my eyes any dog).
 

I rarely even refer to him as a miniature schnauzer for I’m turned off by the limitations of breed differentiations. It’s just too much classification for my liking and had I thought of him as one we probably wouldn’t have attempted many of the things we have. Besides, as Paige Foster, his breeder, said ten years ago (as well as nearly every other schnauzer expert – real and supposed –has said upon meeting him through the subsequent years), “He doesn’t act like any schnauzer I know.”

There are a few similarities between Atticus and Maxwell Garrison Gillis, his predecessor, also a miniature schnauzer, but he shares even more atypical characteristics with other breeds I’ve lived with as well, most specifically Seamus, a black lab, and Ollie, a Westie.

So if Atticus is not any of those things what is he?

From the first time I held him as an eight week old I was determined that Atticus would simply be Atticus. I wanted him to grow up to be his own dog and I wanted him to be able to make up his own mind as to what he would be and what he would do with his life.

(All of this works with my thought on people as well. I’ve yet to meet an ordinary or typical person. I prefer to think in terms of individuality. Perhaps it’s my love of Emerson who wrote, “Whoso would be a man must be a nonconformist.” Or maybe it’s just respect for life and the ability of all of us to shine in our own way.)

While Atticus’s decision to turn back surprised me, I respected it. It is an admittedly rare occurrence but he has chosen to turn back on hikes before, just never this far into one, and never while on a ridge walk where the views are plentiful and there’s so much to be seen. I chalked it up to what had been a hot week even though it was sunny but comfortable with a cooling breeze when he made his decision. Since we started winter hiking years ago he, like me, is less of a fan of warm weather hikes. Once the temperature reaches 80 we both begin to melt. Heck, he doesn’t even enjoy going for a walk around the village when it gets to be 80 degrees.

There had been other signs something was off as well. Lately, at the end of a couple of our early evening walks he sat on the couch panting a bit more than he has in the past. He’s also been spending more time walking next to me on the trail instead of just in front of me. I made the mistake of listening to too many other people and their experiences when they said, “He is ten, after all,” as if age is a disease.

But I really became concerned when we were on Middle Moat and that’s as far as he wanted to go. That just wasn’t Atticus. At least not the Atticus of old. That night I emailed Christine O’Connell, our vet at North Country Animal Hospital, and told her what had transpired.

Christine ran some tests, one of which was for Lyme disease. The Lyme test was negative but he did test positive for another tick-borne disease called anaplasmosis. It’s symptoms are not unlike Lyme and it would certainly explain what’s been happening with him lately.

Christine started him on a course of medicine as well as a probiotic. He’ll be on both for a month and we’re hoping he will feel better. If not, then we’ll head to the specialists at Angell Animal Medical Center. But so far the blood work results look normal in every other way and we are taking that as a good sign.

I am an unabashed sentimentalist who wears my heart on my sleeve and I’m not foolish enough to think that Atticus will live forever. Those of us who love animals know all too well the pain that comes from their shorter life spans. Confronted with everything that has taken place as of late, however, I can’t but help fear the very thought of that day. But something tells me that it is something we won't have to be concerned with for quite some time. It's way beyond the horizon and we have years to go and mountains to climb.

Meanwhile, I hold Atticus more than I typically would. We sit outside by the Ellis River as it runs by our yard, we watch the chipmunks scurrying around the stone wall near our patio, and feed the geese down the road. Right now he’s just plain tired. As one of the vet tech’s said the other day, “What he’s going through is quite similar to one of us having mono.”

Even now as I write this I think about those words and what it would be like if I had mono. I wouldn’t even want to get out of bed. But here is Atticus, supposedly a senior dog (more limiting classification), suffering from something akin to mono and yet he hiked two four thousand-footers on Tuesday and two more strenuous peaks just a few days later. Such is his love of the mountains.

He is on my writing desk sleeping next to my laptop at this moment and as I look at him I smile and feel his place in my heart and know that Atticus has turned out just as he was supposed to. 

Atticus has turned out to simply be Atticus.

Atticus being Atticus on Mount Garfield, our first 4,000-footer.

Kicking Off Our Paperback Tour in a Good Way

We’re kicking off the paperback book tour of Following Atticus in a way that’s near and dear to our hearts.

When we were given an opportunity to decide how to launch the paperback we wanted to do something special to help a worthwhile organization.  Therefore we are teaming up with Laura Lucy of White Birch Books and Virginia Moore of the Conway Area Animal Shelter on a fundraising dinner for the shelter.  It takes place on August 7 and starts at 6 pm and will take place at the Red Jacket Mountain View Resort in North Conway. 

Laura, Barb, Jane, and Karyl, the lovely ladies of White Birch Books, will be on hand to sell Following Atticus and we will be on hand to sign them.  Better yet, White Birch Books is going out of its way to one again help the shelter by seeing to it that the animals will receive a portion of any book that is pre-ordered through them.  They had a similar arrangement for the hardcover launch last September and they raised quite a bit. 

The following was taken from the Animal Rescue League of NH – North press release:

Tom and Atticus have been very supportive of the Animal Rescue League of NH – North, most recently helping the Conway shelter raise money to help Scruffy, a little Shih Tzu found abandoned in a box on a hiking trail in the White Mountains. Tom recently rescued William Lloyd Garrison, an older Schnauzer, from the New Jersey Schnauzer Rescue Network. “In thinking of how neglected Will was when we adopted him, and about how Scruffy was heartlessly left behind, I’m reminded how fortunate we are as a society to have organizations that save and rescue animals from dire situations,” Tom commented.

Tickets are $50 per person, and for a special price a limited number of VIP seats are being offered to sit with Tom, Atticus, and Will at their table on a first-come first-served basis. There will be a raffle that evening for two framed and matted, limited edition prints of the poster of all 48 of the 4000-footers that the duo climbed. The prints are signed by Tom, Atticus, and map artist Kathy Speight Kraynak.

We’re thrilled to have Will helping to kick off our tour this time around.  It will be the first opportunity many have to meet the newest member of our family. 

For more information on this event and to order tickets please call (603) 447-5605 or e-mail vmoore@conwayshelter.org. To pre-order books please contact White Birch Books at (603) 356-3200.  We’ve also been told that the Red Jacket Mountainview Resort is offering a special price for those who want to stay overnight.  I know they are going out of their way to help the animals at the shelter as well. 

In the coming days we’ll be announcing where else we’ll be appearing on tour.  But first I have to say that when the economy went down the drain a few years back, author tours were one of the quickest things to be cut in cost-saving attempts.  We were honored to have a tour last fall, but to have a second tour for the same book is beyond exciting.  We are looking forward to getting out on the road again and visiting with many of you at your local independent booksellers.
 

I know there are a lot of people who will tell us they want us to come to Chicago or North Carolina or Miami, but it’s not that simple.  Our publicists at HarperCollins hear from bookstores that really want to host us and who will go to lengths to make sure we have a well-attended event. So keep in mind that when you see the list in the coming days, it’s been carefully thought out by our team.  Second, because I won’t fly Atticus on a tour and we drive everywhere, there are certain limitations to where we will go.  More on this in the near future.

But fear not, even if we are not coming anywhere near you, you can still pre-order a personalized autographed and pawtographed paperback copy of Following Atticus through White Birch Books at (603) 356-3200 – and a portion of each sale will help animals in need.     

Following Atticus and Scruffy bookmark to be given out at dinner.

We Like Ike...and "Appalachia" Likes Following Atticus

Tom & Atticus on top of Mount Eisenhower.

This morning we hiked Pierce and Eisenhower, two of the 4,000-footers in the Southern Presidentials.  We got an early start but even then  we couldn't help but notice that the air is getting hot, humid, and hazy and we didn't have views anything like you see above on the summit of Eisenhower from last summer.  Nevertheless it was good to get out and on top of a couple of great peaks - especially since we'll be hibernating in the air conditioning for the next two days when the temperatures reach the nineties. 

These are our first peaks since I started my juice fast nine days ago and I was curious as to how I'd feel.  Nothing to fear.  All went well.  I drank a great breakfast before heading out and I brought an additional forty ounces of green juice with me for the hike.  Of course it helps to be hiking with thirty-nine less pounds than I was ten weeks ago.  As always, neither Atticus nor I enjoyed it all that much when the sun climbed higher and brought the temperature with us but that was the only thing that slowed us down in the end. 

We returned to Jackson to find Will happily asleep right where we left him, and the latest issue of Appalachia: America's Longest-Running Journal of Mountaineering & Conservation waiting in our post office box.  The impressive journal has been around since 1876, comes out twice a year, and today's copy is the Summer/Fall 2012 issue.  I was pleasantly surprised to see that book review editor Steve Fagin wrote up a short piece on Following Atticus.  And what's not to like when you are compared to Bill Bryson and John Steinbeck?

"In FOLLOWING ATTICUS, author Tom Ryan focuses not just one chapter but an entire book on his travels and travails with a lovable miniature schnauzer named after the heroic lawyer in To Kill a Mockingbird. Ryan and Atticus set out to climb the 4,000-footers, as the subtitle promises: "Forty-eight high peaks, one little dog, and an extraordinary friendship." Ryan, founder and former editor of an alternative paper in Newburyport, Massachusetts, called The Undertoad, is an engaging storyteller whose humorous, self-deprecating descriptions evoke Bill Bryson's A Walk in the Woods: Rediscovering American on the Appalachian Trail and John Steinbeck's Travels with Charley: In Search of America.

"Determined to undertake his long-range hiking goal as a tribute to a friend who died of cancer, Ryan resists sentimentality.  Based on his easy-going, good-natured style, he seems like the sort of hiker you'd welcome into your campsite - and who could resist the adorable, calm Atticus?  I hope to encounter them one day, either on the trail, or on the bookshelves again. "

"The best way to change the world, is to change yourself."

It's Father's Day, and though he's been gone for a few years now, Jack Ryan continues to live in my life.  I think about him often and how he would have loved this life I'm leading.  He'd be downright envious of being in the mountains, the idea of writing for a living, the books I'm reading, and mostly he would love the quiet, peaceful, and genuine existence I now have.

As Jack aged, his years of neglect took their toll on his body. I often wonder how he lived as long as he did for he became like an old car that falls apart more each year.  The smoking, the diet, the stress he created for himself - it all added up to disease after disease. 

As I've aged - I'm now fifty-one - I find myself considering his choices and it has helped me make better choices for myself.  His failing health was only one of the reasons I decided nearly ten weeks ago to change to a vegan, plant-based diet.  My main reason is my love of animals and my desire to stop eating them.  The switch was easier than I thought it would be and I found a new love of cooking lay in the details of this change in direction.  Once I started giving more thought to what I was eating I lost 27 pounds in that short time. It is interesting to note that I was never hungry after giving up meat, dairy, and processed foods.

Then I saw something that would change my life even more.  I watched the movie Fat, Sick, and Nearly Dead, a documentary made by Joe Cross, an Australian who comes to the U.S. on a quest to reclaim his own life. 

Inspired by Cross, six days ago I started my own juice fast and the change has been incredible.  I now have a spring in my step I haven't had in years.  I feel healthier from the inside out.  And even though I'm ingesting 1,500 to 1,800 calories of fruits and vegetables a day, I've lost an additional 9.8 pounds.

Jack wouldn't have liked either decision. His manhood would have been threatened by the idea of going vegan.  "Men just don't eat that way.  You need red meat!" (Strangely, some friends in my life - both men and women - have been threatened by my switch - some have even seemed angry about it. Even stranger is that none of these same people really cared when my main diet consisted of McDonald's, Burger King, Coke, pizza, and Ben and Jerry's.)  The idea of a juice fast would have made no sense to him whatsoever and he would have had more negative things to say about that.  But in the end he would have noted the results, and more importantly, my resolve, and he would have respected what he saw. 

Of course, he wouldn't have said that.  But that's okay, some things don't need to be said to be understood in the dance between father and son. 

Anyway, here I am, inspired by my love of animals, my father's lessons of fading health, and my own determination to make the most of my life that I've started on a new journey of healthier living.  It's a grand adventure and I find the juice fast no different than climbing a mountain.  It's not easy, but most worthwhile changes in my life haven't been.  It's a marathon and I will be tested along the way. I'm only on day seven of sixty so the bulk of the quest lays ahead of me. 

I like the idea that the fast will take me right up to the week the paperback version of Following Atticus is released.  After all, much of following Atticus has led me to the same conclusion that Joe Cross came to in his movie, "And I learned that the best way to change the world, is to change yourself." 

"Carry him with you wherever you go...and don't let anyone else hold him..."

Trust brought Atticus to the top of New England in subzero wind chill.

That was the advice of Paige Foster, Atticus's breeder, way back in the beginning.  She followed it up with "Y'all will bond that way."  She was right, of course.  Because of the lessons in life and love from Paige, Atticus has led a most unusual life.  The seeds for that life are touch and trust. 

When Will came into our home a month ago people wanted to know why it was important for me to be able to pick him up - especially when he didn't want anything to do with being picked up.  It's because of Paige and her advice. 

Touch leads to trust and when there's trust, there's nothing that can't be accomplished between friends. 

I know Will is never going to be able to climb a mountain but I'm proud of the obstacles he's faced to this point.  He came to us hurt, abandoned, neglected, and in pain.  He was angry and, as I've pointed out in the past, he lashed out with the only thing he had - his teeth.  But those days are long gone.  Will now wants to be picked up.  He nudges me constantly with his nose when I'm on the couch.  It's his way of letting me know he wants to sit with me.  Since it isn't possible for him to get up on the furniture, I lift him and instead of being angry about it, like he was in the beginning, he pushes to get closer.

Tomorrow, Will has a grooming appointment.  A month ago he had his first and I was faced with a decision.  He'd been abandoned, then shuffled from rescuer to rescuer until he finally landed with us.  And while I knew he was home, I wanted him to know he wouldn't have to ever go anywhere else, and would never be abandoned again.  I gave some thought of staying at the grooming appointment but decided I would leave him in Tracy's good hands at her Ultimutt Cut Pet Salon. She had blocked off time for Will, knowing he had special needs, and made certain no other dogs would be there.  This allowed Atticus and I to go for a walk and share some needed alone time, and while Will became agitated after we left him with Tracy, I felt it was important for him to learn the lesson that we would come back for him.  We will always come back. 

It was the right decision. 

Will needs a lot of attention - when he's awake, which is not very often.  When he sleeps, it gives Atticus and I a chance to get out for our walks or go on hikes.  When we return, Will is often right where we left him, curled up like a sleeping chipmunk on one of his beds. 

What a joy it is for him to see us when he opens his eyes and lets the shadows and light adjust to know we are here.  This is especially true on the times when we've returned to see him in a different location and when he awakens he gets the message clearly - they came back!

I'm often asked what the secret is to building trust with a dog.  I'm no expert - I simply treated first Max, then Atticus, and now Will as I wished I would be treated if I was in their respective situations.  I know I'd want to be loved and reassured.  Because of the world we live in, dogs rely on us to set the tone of the relationship.  Society's rules are made for people so I figure, as I wrote in our book, there are very few rules: keep them safe, shared respect, and respect for other people, animals, and places. I think one of the greater gifts we can lead our animal friends to in the world is a strong sense of self. 

At the basis of this is something we all understand - a loving touch - which leads to trust. 

A month ago Will didn't want to be touched all that much.  If you look at my left hand in the photo below you can see some of the scars from his bites back then.  Now, he longs for it.  Now we connect through it. 

So while Will never will climb Mount Washington, as Atticus has numerous times in each of the seasons, he's reaching new heights every time he lets down his walls and lets love in again.

Trust brought Will home.

The Strange Turn of Events in One Dogs's Life

Today we met Scruffy, the abandoned dog who was named by the good folks at the Conway Area Humane Society because of the way he looked when he showed up at their doorstep.

Well, he didn't actually show up on their doorstep.  Instead he was brought in by some hikers who found him in a box on the Davis Path, a lengthy hiking trail that runs from just south of Crawford Notch to Mount Washington.  As one woman at the shelter said, Scruffy would have been a meal for a bear had the hikers not stumbled upon him. 

And for those thinking he might have run away from people he was with, it seems unlikely.  The Davis Path can be a quiet place.  You don't see tons of hikers there, especially in the rain, and you hardly ever see portly, but cute, senior dogs like Scruffy.  You definitely don't see boxes along this trail so it's evident that little Scruffy was left in a box on a trail by someone who didn't want him anymore. 

We learned of his plight yesterday on the Conway Area Humane Society Facebook page and discovered they needed funds to help with his medical bills...not to mention funds to help them with their general operation.  Money's tight lately for everyone, and animal shelters everywhere are hurting. 

I was touched by the generous and compassionate response by many of our Following Atticus Facebook friends who offered to help foot the bill.  But that's one of the pleasant surprises of writing a book and having people read it.  We now have more than 6,000 Facebook friends of Atticus who keep our page lively and interesting.  Many were drawn to us because of their love of animals. Therefore, when I shared Scruffy's story, they rose to the occasion.

This morning, after a walk at Pudding Pond, Atticus and I drove over to the shelter to visit Virginia Moore and drop off a donation for Scruffy and the shelter.  We were fortunate enough to meet the little fellow and while he was abandoned by someone, it's clear he won't be alone for long.  He's cute and friendly.  He has remarkable coloring and a warm personality.  You can tell that there's a lot of love inside of him that is just dying for a new home.  (I'm told there's already some interest in adopting him after the seven day waiting period at the shelter is up.)

I was drawn to him immediately, especially since he was found on a hiking trail, but having just adopted Will, the timing and circumstances are not right for us.  But it's clear he'll be happy in somebody's home.

I don't think I could work, or volunteer, at a shelter. My heart would constantly be broken and I'd want to adopt all of the unwanted animals I saw.  (Well, maybe not snakes.  Not a fan of snakes.)  And while I understand that there are circumstances that lead to a person giving up an animal, some people who do things that are cruel and reprehensible.  I can't imagine why someone would want to give up on Scruffy, especially after meeting him.  But to make matters worse, it appears to have been a clearly thought out abandonment.  The Davis Path is not an easy trail to hike and one doesn't typically bring along a dog like Scruffy and a box.

Since we don't have room for Scruffy, we're doing what we can to help out with his medical bills and whatever the Conway Area Humane Society needs.  We made our own donation this morning and we are autographing a copy of Following Atticus and everyone who donates to help Scruffy and the shelter at this time will be entered into a drawing. 

Donating is easy.  You can mail a check made out to ARL-North and send it to ARL-North, PO Box 260, Conway, NH 03818. Attention: Scruffy.  Or, for a faster and more convenient way to donate, you can click here and use their on-line option.

In thinking of how neglected Will was when we adopted him a month ago, and about how Scruffy was heartlessly left behind, I'm reminded how fortunate we are as a society to have organizations that save and rescue animals from dire situations and cases of abandonment. 

There's a wonderful passage in Saint-Exupery's The Little Prince that goes like this: “People have forgotten this truth," the fox said. "But you mustn’t forget it. You become responsible forever for what you’ve tamed."

Animals who are in need are nearly always in need because of what people have done to them.  Thankfully, there are people who understand the words spoken by the fox.

Yesterday, Virginia sent us a thank you note for helping out, but I was quick to point out that she and her staff do great things and every now and again we get to help them do them. 

For those of you who are donating, thank you.   

Will's Victory

"The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong at the broken places." ~ Ernest Hemingway

I don't agree with Hemingway.  I used to, and I'd like to be able to agree with him, but after fifty-one years I've seen too many who were broken and stayed broken. I've seen too many who stayed down on the mat after getting knocked down because they didn't want it to happen again.  I've seen others stop living and barely get by hoping the hurt would stop and the world would leave them alone.  I've seen them climb inside a bottle, swallow pills, or build walls to keep out the pain and in the process forget the gift of life - and more importantly - the understanding that it's a journey and if you're going to get anywhere you have to keep on moving.

Thankfully, animals are not people.  I believe we're as resilient as they are, we may just not be as innocent and our faith can be far more tattered.

Over the past four weeks I've witnessed the resilience of one little dog.  When he arrived in our lives Will was lost, abandoned, angry, frustrated, mostly blind and deaf, with hips so sore he had a difficult time doing much of anything.  He'd strike out in frustration with his flashing teeth.  He didn't want to be touched all that much and he hated being picked up. 

The world had broken Will.  He was left in pieces. Then he was left on his own.

I've had it easy with Atticus.  We are like a happily married old couple who know each other so well there's little we have to think about.  We go through life together moving as effortlessly as two graceful dancers. But Will is a different story.  He takes a great deal of thought, things I never have had to consider with Atticus. He's a puzzle that's been taken apart and it's been our job to put him back together again.  Actually, it's been his job, we just give him the support to do so.  If you asked me how we do this I would be hard pressed to give you a short, concise answer.  It's a hundred different things that, I suppose, add up to one main thing.  We've allowed Will to live again.  We've allowed him dignity and the ability to grow and continue on his journey.

I will not pretend to know the life that Will led for fifteen years before he met us, I just know what I have seen in him. I see the damage. I see the fragments.  The neglect.  But now I've also seen him grasp at a new chance to live again - to love again.  He's found a home just when he'd been thrown out of his own.

I'm under no illusion that Will can be transformed into something he's not.  He will not climb mountains.  Not real ones anyway.  Instead we'll simply allow the latest member of our family to be what he wants to be. 

On Friday Atticus and I went for a two mile walk, later took a five mile hike over Hedgehog, and finished the day with a three mile walk.  That same day Will got outside into our yard numerous times.  When there, he often just stands and stares off into the distance.  With those cloudy eyes of his I have no idea what he sees or if he's just contemplating something.  Maybe it's just the pleasure of being outside.  I don't know.  Occasionally when we are outside he wants to play and like a newborn colt just finding his legs he bounds awkwardly towards me.  Unlike most colts, he topples over because of his damaged rear hips when he bounds too much. 

So when it comes to Will, his mountains are the figurative kind.  Yesterday he reached the top of one.  For nearly everyone else it wouldn't even be thought of as much of an achievement, but to me Will was sitting on a mountaintop as happily as Atticus ever has.  The key word is sitting.

For four weeks I've seen Will stumble about and stand awkwardly.  Whenever it was time to relax he let his body crumple underneath him.  There were audible groans from him as tried to lower himself to the floor gently.  Those old hips of his just didn't have enough strength in them to help him out and I'm sure the pain was excruciating at times.  Never once did I see him sit.  Oh, he's tried to, but then he feels the pain and the weakness undercuts his intention and he gets halfway down and then flops on the floor.

But yesterday we celebrated a victory.  And you saw it when you first clicked on this post and looked at the photo on top.  Will sitting.  He sat on three different occasions yesterday.  Not for very long, but it's a start. 

Atticus and I have taken Will into our home, but he's allowing us to come along on his journey.

I consider myself fortunate to watch Will reclaim his life and to play whatever small role I have.  I'm overjoyed by the little victories, embrace the mountains he climbs, and through it all I embrace him.
 

In Will's case, Hemingway was right. He's growing strong at the broken places.