Boomer reporting

Zero day My mom is snoozing during her zero day and so I’m killing time, stuck at a luxury kennel because dogs aren’t allowed in the Smokies. 

My pack. OK, I look like I’m carrying enough stuff for a Yukon trek. But my pack is not that heavy. It only contains 3.5 lbs. food max, my snug warm sleeping jacket, my bowl (an empty Greek yogurt container), doggie poop bags, and emergency booties in case I injure a paw. And my sleeping pad. Yes mine, not my mom’s, she has to carry her own gear. I My first pack was sweet, a Wolfpack brand. But it kept slipping forward and I learned to slip it over my head and take it off. That annoyed my mom. So she swapped it out for a Ruffwear pack. It’s a bit too big but it’s all the outfitter had. So it only looks like I’m overloaded.  I can’t get it off myself, And my mom likes that. Even though it’s a pain to balance and I often look lopsided. But it doesn’t bother me. 

My trail name. I’ve been given a trail name, though I still only answer to Boomer. It’s “Showboat.” We were climbing up to the Wesser Fire tower: me, my mom, and two other humans. For some odd reason the humans were gasping for breath. Meanwhile I was so bored by their poky pace that I was barking and prancing and tossing sticks in the air. One human said, “Aw, Boomer, you’re just showboating.” And the name stuck. 

Some nice day hikers at the top gave me trail magic, a jumbo sized milkbone biscuit. Meanwhile my mom got trail magic only once in NC, and that was serendipity. She and two other hikers stopped for a breather at Stecoah Gap. A couple in a pickup truck stooped for a picnic. He had a big jar of beet-flavored pickled eggs, which he shared with the hikers. And me. My mom had been dreaming of scrambled eggs with bacon and toast but she was OK with the pickled egg as the closest available facsimile. 

Well, I’m taking a snooze at the kennel, while my mom hikes the Smokies tomorrow in the wind and rain and cold.