Her first family simply called her Runt. We named her Bella de la Runte when she came to live with us. My mom stuck a middle name in there – making her Bella MopIt de la Runte – when she realized how quickly Bella could clean up after eating children.
Today, we must find a place for another title, perhaps Bella MopIt de la Runte, Mountain Dog. Or maybe it should be Cliff Hanger. Or Gasp-Inducing-Gray-Hair-Causing-Heart-Attack-Bringing-Rim-Running Rocket.
You see, yesterday we took Bella on a hike in the rugged Mule Canyon area. Bella has been on a few hikes before, but she had never seen terrain quite like this. We hiked up a dry river bed to a mesa-like outcrop of rocks. My goal was to get on top of the small mesa to get a good look at the area around us. As we began to work up the rocks, which were essentially small cliffs in some places, Bella seemed to explode into a fearless energy ball, racing up rock faces that were far too steep for us lowly humans to even attempt. Once she reached the top, she would turn around and jump off (much to Christina’s horror), sometimes leaping off ledges three or four times her two-foot stature. She wasn’t doing it out of necessity; she was doing it because she wanted to.
When we reached the top of the mesa, which was situated atop cliffs 10 or more feet high most of the way around, a new sound filled the hills: “Bella! You are too close to the edge. Too Close! Bella! Come here, now! Bella! Too Close!” It was Christina, who was pulling her hair out as Bella raced across the top of the mesa, screeching to a halt only when she came within inches of the treacherous edge.
For what it’s worth, Bella actually scared me pretty bad once too. She raced along the edge of a ledge that quickly became too small for her to keep her balance. As her feet started to slide downward, she paused, looking like she wished she could turn around. It was too late, though, and she realized it. Instead, she leapt off the ledge that was taller than me. (I was at the bottom, but I am not nearly quick enough to answer Christina’s plea of “Catch her, honey!”) It was a heart-stopping moment as she seemed to float there, so high in the air, before she came crashing down. I would like to know what went through Bella’s mind. Maybe it was, “Hmm, this is further than I thought it was.” Or, “Oops, shouldn’t have done that.” Personally, I have to believe it was, “Look at the goofy looks on the faces of those silly humans. They obviously don’t know who they are dealing with.” She landed the leap on all four paws, with barely even a stutter (an Olympic gymnast would have been proud) and raced on her happy little way.
We hiked a similar area today, partly because we were bored this afternoon and partly because we had forgotten the camera. Bella’s antics hadn’t slowed a bit, and our trip got cut short because Christina couldn’t handle the stress any longer. Of course, today’s treacherous edge was more like 100 feet than yesterday’s 10, so I can see where she is coming from. However, the adventure didn’t end before we snapped some pictures of the little maniac racing up and down some steep rocks faces with her long pink tongue hanging out of her perpetually smiling mouth.
Today, we must find a place for another title, perhaps Bella MopIt de la Runte, Mountain Dog. Or maybe it should be Cliff Hanger. Or Gasp-Inducing-Gray-Hair-Causing-Heart-Attack-Bringing-Rim-Running Rocket.
You see, yesterday we took Bella on a hike in the rugged Mule Canyon area. Bella has been on a few hikes before, but she had never seen terrain quite like this. We hiked up a dry river bed to a mesa-like outcrop of rocks. My goal was to get on top of the small mesa to get a good look at the area around us. As we began to work up the rocks, which were essentially small cliffs in some places, Bella seemed to explode into a fearless energy ball, racing up rock faces that were far too steep for us lowly humans to even attempt. Once she reached the top, she would turn around and jump off (much to Christina’s horror), sometimes leaping off ledges three or four times her two-foot stature. She wasn’t doing it out of necessity; she was doing it because she wanted to.
When we reached the top of the mesa, which was situated atop cliffs 10 or more feet high most of the way around, a new sound filled the hills: “Bella! You are too close to the edge. Too Close! Bella! Come here, now! Bella! Too Close!” It was Christina, who was pulling her hair out as Bella raced across the top of the mesa, screeching to a halt only when she came within inches of the treacherous edge.
For what it’s worth, Bella actually scared me pretty bad once too. She raced along the edge of a ledge that quickly became too small for her to keep her balance. As her feet started to slide downward, she paused, looking like she wished she could turn around. It was too late, though, and she realized it. Instead, she leapt off the ledge that was taller than me. (I was at the bottom, but I am not nearly quick enough to answer Christina’s plea of “Catch her, honey!”) It was a heart-stopping moment as she seemed to float there, so high in the air, before she came crashing down. I would like to know what went through Bella’s mind. Maybe it was, “Hmm, this is further than I thought it was.” Or, “Oops, shouldn’t have done that.” Personally, I have to believe it was, “Look at the goofy looks on the faces of those silly humans. They obviously don’t know who they are dealing with.” She landed the leap on all four paws, with barely even a stutter (an Olympic gymnast would have been proud) and raced on her happy little way.
We hiked a similar area today, partly because we were bored this afternoon and partly because we had forgotten the camera. Bella’s antics hadn’t slowed a bit, and our trip got cut short because Christina couldn’t handle the stress any longer. Of course, today’s treacherous edge was more like 100 feet than yesterday’s 10, so I can see where she is coming from. However, the adventure didn’t end before we snapped some pictures of the little maniac racing up and down some steep rocks faces with her long pink tongue hanging out of her perpetually smiling mouth.
