My Girl Vaida: An Adventurous Hiker, Her Big Yellow Dog, and Their Everlasting Bond

PREFACE

I own nearly nothing, and I love to carry everything I need on my back in a tiny little backpack, but I carry a huge story to tell in my heart—a story that’s still in the making.

I’m a lover, an adventurer, a make-no-plans-er, a see-what-happens-er. I’m a thirty-eight-year-old kid who likes to adventure out of a thirty-liter backpack and sleep in the dirt. I’ve chosen to live life differently. I don’t care about the haves and have-nots. I seek the what-ifs.

I am not a writer. I am a thinker and a believer. People love the stories I tell, but that’s just what I do. I tell stories and create memories, laughter, and What the hecks?! I can capture these moments through spoken word, and I know I can draw people in when I tell them, but I wasn’t sure if I could write them. I wasn’t sure if I could draw people in with written words the way I can with face-to-face storytelling. Despite this, I set out to document the legacy of Vaida—the world’s best yellow dog and most loyal companion—in written form as a way for me to look back when I’m eighty-years old and smile and say to myself, What a life we led! But also, What was I thinking?! It’s a way for me to share our wild and adventurous life and hopefully inspire a few.

None of this would have been possible without twelve-and-a-half years of Vaida by my side. With Vaida, I was truly never alone. I was never scared, never bored, and was always supported by her unconditional love for me as I in turn gave the same love and support to her.

Vaida was my adventure partner, my best friend, my partner in crime. She was my soulmate. My other half. She was who I spent my entire day with no matter what I was doing. She was who I kissed every night and said, I love you, sweet girl. And on the rare occasion I did leave her side, I told her, I love you more than all of the stars in the sky. I’ll think about you the entire time that I’m gone.

I never worried about what people thought about me, my crazy life, or my sometimes questionable decisions, because in the end, I had Vaida. Always by my side, she was impossible not to love. Maybe it was her giant yellow hundred-pound frame that, despite its size, radiated a peaceful, gentle care and compassion, or her bright yellow eyes that looked straight into your heart and stole it as she stretched out her big yellow paw to show you she was there. Her presence breathed a calm, a sigh of relief, not just to me but to everyone she encountered. Vaida was my everything, and sometimes I think we somehow meant everything to a lot of other people. Vaida touched lives, and she helped me do the same.

During the writing process, when I was feeling a little stressed about the whole project, my mom asked me, What do you do when you are faced with a challenge or difficult climb when you’re hiking?

I looked at her and said, I deal with it. I buckle down and get through it. I look at it as something I know I can overcome.

I am stubborn, riddled with strength, grit, and determination. So I powered through the book, and now you’re holding our story in your hands. The details of our story are as I remember them, told from my perspective, and may not exactly align with the memories of others. The conversations I recall are not verbatim but are my best recollection of what was said in that particular moment. While the precise words may now escape me, the memories of the twelve-and-a-half years Vaida and I spent together, attached at the hip, never fade.

Vaida truly lived a beautiful, arguably unrivaled life, and I wanted to see that story come alive on paper. I hope that when you read this book, you can understand what a remarkable dog she was, what an amazing journey we had together, and will be inspired to find your own source of life-altering transformation. And I hope that if you have ever lost anyone who meant the world to you, you will be able to find healing within.

—Caitlin (and Vaida)

1

Arkansas’s Amber Becomes Vermont’s Vaida

I was in kindergarten when my parents got our first dog, a purebred golden retriever. I remember having Casey for quite a few years and being very close to her. We got our second dog three years later, when my parents bred Casey. I was in third grade when she had the litter and remember my brother and I being really excited about it, not only because we got to name the puppies but because we were going to keep one and have a mother and son. The one we kept was a male we named Big Blue because he was the biggest boy and wore a blue yarn around his neck during his first nine weeks in the whelping box. We eventually changed his name to just Blue and, of course, bought him a blue collar.

It seemed like there were always golden retrievers at my house, especially when I was a young child. Dogs have been part of my life for as long as I can remember, though I don’t know why my parents chose to get our first dog, or why it was a purebred golden retriever. It could have had something to do with the fact that my brother and I, like a lot of young kids, simply wanted a dog. My mom had grown up with dogs, and she probably just wanted us to experience life with one too.

What I remember most about having dogs as a kid was their companionship and their loyalty. Casey was my first dog and always my favorite. She wasn’t as good-looking or playful as her son Blue, but she was a very sweet girl. Plus, she had this great trick where she could fit three tennis balls into her mouth at once. She was always there for me, this incredibly mellow friend who could always make me smile. I learned the importance of having a dog around that you could count on to be your friend, a friend who was always there when you got home.

My brother was a year-and-a-half older and a grade ahead of me in school, and we were never really that close. In fact, we were only really close when he had me pinned down and was rapidly tapping on my chest just to annoy me. Growing up, I always felt like I was living in his shadow. I was a tomboy, and I was very shy. Sure, I had friends, but he seemed to have way more. And at the time, he was the one excelling at sports while I was still struggling to find confidence in my athletic skills. But when I would lie on the floor with Casey or play fetch with her in the yard, she was the only teammate I needed and the feelings of being a loner faded away.

I grew up in western Massachusetts and went to the University of Vermont on a softball scholarship, thanks to my athletic skills developing over time. While I was away at college, I can’t say I missed having a dog. I was so motivated by sports that there wasn’t time to think about my dogs back home. Wrapped up in the excitement of being a young adult and finding my way in the world, my close relationship with dogs seemed to be an elementary school thing that had passed.

I stayed in Burlington, Vermont after graduation and got a job as the office manager at a live-music concert venue called Higher Ground. Thoughts of getting a dog were still a few years away.

In spite of living in one of the most beautiful states in New England, I was not into the outdoors and hiking yet. Then, a couple of years after I graduated, I dated a guy named Mike who took me on my first hike up a nearby mountain called Camel’s Hump, one of the taller peaks in Vermont. You could see its distinctive profile from the softball field I played on every single day at UVM. But if someone had pointed to it and said, What’s that? I would have said, I don’t know. It looks like any old mountain to me. As it turned out, Camel’s Hump wasn’t any old mountain—it was the mountain that completely changed my life. Dating Mike didn’t go anywhere, ended after only a few months, but I’ll always remember him fondly for having introduced me to hiking.

On that first hike up Camel’s Hump, I had no idea what to do or what to wear or what to bring. I’m pretty sure I wore cotton corduroy pants, which I have subsequently learned is definitely not appropriate hiking gear. Experienced hikers will tell you cotton kills because cotton retains moisture from your sweat, snow, or rain, and this could lead to hypothermia. Thankfully I didn’t have to deal with any of those things on my first hike and have since learned about more appropriate hiking attire.

I had always been team-sports oriented. Through elementary and high school and then four years of Division I softball, working hard with teammates and having a coach to direct and guide me was all I had known. I was used to running fast to first base or diving for a line drive. Things that were over in an instant. I didn’t know what it was like to walk for miles and work really hard for two hours to get to the top of a mountain and then be rewarded with an incredible view. Hiking was so different—I’d never done anything like that before. It was something I could do on my own, whenever I felt like, with no team members or companions required, no one to tell me how slow or fast to go or which trail to take. I was absolutely in awe.

When I find something I like, I stick to it. I admit, I wasn’t the greatest athlete, but I had the dedication and drive to take my average athletic skills and make them above average. So, the day after that first hike up Camel’s Hump, I went out and bought a book called Hiker’s Guide to the Mountains of Vermont: 100 Best Hikes in Vermont, and hiking became an obsession.

The feelings I had experienced playing highly competitive softball were pretty amazing. Hiking gave me the same feelings. The rush and the high that I used to get at the end of a winning playoff game, when someone drove in the winning run or made an amazing play to win a game, was exactly how I started to feel when I got to the top of the mountain. But the difference was that those feelings were based on a moment, over in an instant. With hiking, it took hours to reach the top of the mountain. That’s when the familiar rush hit me, after extended periods of hard work and focus. I was probably thinking, Holy shit, this is really hard. But once I got to the top I thought, Holy shit, this makes all of this really worth it. Instead of a trophy or the pats on the back from teammates, it was the mountain air and beautiful views that provided me with enjoyment and a sense of accomplishment.

When I first caught the hiking bug, I was working nights and didn’t have to go in until five or six in the evening, so I often set out on an adventure before work. I got used to hiking alone because I had the whole day available and all of my friends were at their day jobs. I also didn’t care if anyone else could come with me, which may not have been smart, in retrospect. Because I was so new to hiking, I didn’t know anything about the potential dangers of hiking alone, like getting lost or getting caught out in drastic weather changes. I would simply open up my new hiking guide, see something that was forty-five minutes or an hour’s drive away, and head there. I’d get home in time to get ready for work, often excited to share with my coworkers what I had done that day. I was hiking alone probably 95 percent of the time and slowly becoming known for my adventurous endeavors. Fortunately, during my early hiking years, I never experienced any of the dangers of hiking alone.

My family and friends were excited I’d found this new passion. I’m sure my mom was a little nervous that I was always going off on my own, but I always made sure to tell her when and where I was going and what trail I was taking. If I remembered, I would call and let her know when I was safe. I didn’t always remember. She never forgot to call and check when I didn’t, though.

As time went on, I discovered that hiking without anyone else better suited my quiet, somewhat shy personality. I had also realized that, while I enjoyed hiking with friends from time to time, it was really nice not having to make plans with anyone. Plus, I was working late and never knew what time I’d wake up in the morning. What I did know was that every day I had a large chunk of time before work that I wanted to fill with hiking. And even though I worked in a highly social environment and met a lot of people, some with a similar passion, I still preferred being by myself because I could go where I wanted, anytime I wanted, and at my own pace. So I spent the next two or three years of my early twenties hiking on my own.

It was when I met my friend Leah that I started to think about getting a dog to join me on my adventures. Leah was standing outside of her store in Burlington with her two big, beautiful dogs one day when I walked by. I stopped in my tracks when I saw her dogs. Cookie looked like a huge red female lion with a wrinkly head, and Bella had this commanding presence with her two canine teeth poking out above her bottom lip. She was large and intimidating, but once you met her and looked into her soulful eyes, you found she was really sweet. I’ll never forget how my dad would refer to her as Sad Sack because of the expression she had on her face. I had never seen dogs like that before. I didn’t know this woman, but I had to talk to her. Leah told me that Cookie was a French mastiff and Bella was a bull mastiff, then added, I recognize you from Higher Ground! I go to shows there all the time. Then I stood outside her store asking her a million questions about her dogs.

They were both beautiful, unique-looking dogs, though to me, Cookie was not only unique but absolutely stunning, jaw-dropping, and head-turningly beautiful. If you saw Leah out with her dogs in public, it would be impossible to not stop and ask about them. I used to like to walk around with Leah just so I could be seen with the dogs as well, having discovered I enjoyed the attention they generated. Maybe I wasn’t so shy after all, or at least didn’t want to be.

Leah and I continued to cross paths at Higher Ground, and our friendship evolved from there. We were drawn to each other back then and are still close friends today.

By this time, I had been hiking for a couple of years, was still working nights at Higher Ground, and had started dating a guy I met at work named Garett. He had a dog, a shepherd/husky mix named Jerry that was always with Garett no matter what he was doing or where he was going. Garett worked for a log home restoration company, so Jerry got to spend all day with him on the jobsite. In his free time, Garett liked to travel and go to concerts. Jerry would be his copilot and then hang out in the car while Garett was in the venue watching the show. I thought it was really unique