Uneasy

Spring insists on arriving in Missoula mountain style. Blustery swirls of snow greeted Nicholai and me as we trudged up the hillside, heads bent into the wind. Hat, gloves, and cell phone tucked into my pocket, I was ready for a long and solitary trek. I even had Nicholai's jacket wrapped around the leash that I strung over my shoulder. I felt a tad silly about the jacket, it is the Wild West after all, and surely a burly black lab doesn't need an outfit. It was insurance really – like the phone. On a dark and cold Monday morning with snow falling and wind whipping, we were unlikely to encounter company in the hills. Nicholai's breath has come a little heavier the past couple of weeks and I wanted to be prepared for anything.

Passing through the brush at the start of our hike, Nicholai seemed wary. He kept sniffing the air, glancing left and right, looking over his shoulder. As we crested the first rise, he tossed another cautionary glance behind us. And then I remembered. "Oh yeah, bud," I said to him out loud. "This is where the coyotes were last time we were here." Dark skies and early morning, I realized they could be tucked just out of sight a stone's throw away.

I don't know if it was coyotes or if he was feeling malaise, but Nicholai stuck to my side and kept watch around us our whole hike. I cut it shorter than I'd planned, because my buddy's uneasiness started creeping under my skin. I've never worried about coyotes (or lions and tigers and bears – oh my) out hiking or running all alone, always independent and tough.

But now, with Nicholai, I need to negotiate the territory of advancing age and slowly progressing cancer. Nickel-Pickle has always been my partner and protector. This morning I felt him asking reassurance from me, and I wondered – is this how the end begins?