I’ve been staying in rented forest service cabins for many years now. They rarely have electricity or running water, but that only deepens their rustic charm. What they do offer is open space, solitude, silence—and the kind of stillness that makes every movement of the dogs stand out against the landscape.

This trip was special: Little Ridge’s first overnight adventure. (back in early July). For safety, I clipped a GPS satellite receiver to the tiny vest he wore. He’s so small that just a few steps into tall grass—or behind a tree trunk—could hide him completely from view.

Fortunately, Ridge was always either lying by Hayley, or glued to Jess, shadowing her every move. They darted across the open space in front of the cabin, then disappeared and reappeared among the pale trunks of the aspen grove. I caught some wonderful moments of their play on video.

We had our share of mini-adventures—hiking Cottonwood Pass one day and Independence Pass the next—but the true magic of this trip was found in the quiet evening walks up the hill west of the cabin. The light would soften, the air turn cool, and the sky fade from blue to a wash of red and yellow.

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My favorite memory is one I caught in a photo: little Ridge walking beside old Hayley as we made our way down the hill toward home. It’s a picture that holds the whole trip in a single frame—youth and age, side by side, framed by the fading light of a perfect mountain evening.

This morning, just after sunrise, I wandered into the laundry room—also known around here as the dog bedding annex—which opens to the backyard through two dog doors. Jess was there, half-asleep, but neither Hayley nor Ridge were in sight.

I headed upstairs and stepped outside to investigate. Hayley was stretched out on the cement near the back door, relaxed and content in the cool morning light. And then I saw Ridge—my four-month-old pup—sitting quietly in the dirt beneath the pear tree, watching the hens from behind the five-foot wire fence that keeps them safely in their own part of the yard. He wasn’t chasing or barking or tangled in chaos; he was just... still. Observing. As if he already understood that mornings are meant to start slow.

It’s only been two months since Ridge arrived, but he’s settled in so naturally it’s hard to remember what things were like without him. He’s growing quickly—not just in size, but in the way he’s learning our rhythms: the garden routine, the clatter of hens, Jess’s steadiness, Hayley’s gentle pace, the quiet tempo of the day. And lately, those rhythms include our evening river walks—five nights in a row now. I throw sticks out into the deep water, and Jess goes flying after them, leaping in with that full-body commitment she brings to everything. Ridge stands on the bank, watching her splash and paddle, sometimes wading in, sometimes taking the plunge himself, but mostly waiting for Jess to return, tail wagging, like he’s learning by watching. Hayley walks slowly behind me, almost 15 now, taking her time, the river path familiar beneath her paws.

My life is simple—gardens, chickens, the nearby mountains, the occasional trip to the ocean, and dancing twice a week for social life and deep joy. It’s not elaborate, but it’s full. And the dogs—Ridge, Jess, and Hayley—make it feel even fuller. They keep showing me how simple happiness can be.

Puppy's first swim. Ridge couldn't contain himself, he wanted to follow Jess so bad. He learned rivers have an 'in' and headed back to Dad.

We have days that are 90° or above every day, which makes them perfect for an evening walk along the river. Ridge has so much fun chasing after Jess and playing in the water that he wears himself out and crashes when we get home. Hayley strolls along right at my heels.

Raising a border collie puppy is a lot easier when you have adult dogs around to show him the ropes. Within just a few days, Ridge figured out he was part of a pack and started mimicking the older dogs. When we head out front, he follows his big sisters. And when it’s time to leave the shade of the old oak tree and come inside, he’s right behind them.

He’s already mastered the stairs up to the deck, where the dogs have breakfast together. I installed a push-button chicken guard over the dog door so I can keep them in the backyard until the day warms up. Then I open it, and they come into the cool basement where a fan keeps things comfortable. Right now, I don’t let Ridge roam the whole basement—he’s still learning potty habits. But he’s getting there. Most of the time, he remembers to go outside through the laundry room, up the stairs, and out the garage dog door/

This morning, while I was fixing breakfast, I saw Jess lying on her side, gently playing with Ridge at his level. It completely melted me.

I had planned to wait until October to get a new puppy, but when I saw a gorgeous litter of nine pups on a farm in Eastern Colorado, that plan changed fast. The parents were stunning, both purebred and clearly well cared for. Ridge’s dad was even out working in the field with the owner's father when I arrived. They kindly brought him in so I could meet him—and I gave them an extra $100 in appreciation, and because I was genuinely impressed by the dogs they’ve raised.

One of the best parts of getting Ridge now is that he gets to bond with Hayley, who he’s very attached to. A few days ago, I found them curled up together in the same dog bed. Hayley is 14½ now, and every day with her is a gift.

I started sleeping in the laundry room during Beau’s final weeks to be close to him. After he passed, I kept doing it—this time to stay near Hayley. Every night before we fall asleep, I hold her head and tell her how much I love her. She gives me kisses, and the last thing she hears is that she’s a good girl.