It isn’t in Pippin’s nature to howl at the moon, though I cannot understand why. I have been known to belt out a few yowling hollers myself on more than one occasion. (Note: if you have a mind to try it, it’s best done amongst a plucky group, well outside the confines of civilization.) I tried to teach Pip to howl once, but he lowered his ears and ran off to chase a bug.
The full moon, rather, beckons Pippin and me to the water. And Pip does like to go kayaking, as all good waterdogs do. He nestles himself on a blanket in the front of the boat and rests his chin on its lip, watching the lake go by underneath him. I like to think he dreams of mermaids, but maybe it’s birds and bunnies he’s pining for.
Elk Lake – a sparkling, high mountain jewel in the Cascades – is startlingly calm when the moon comes up; quiet, still, and totally abandoned except for the reflection of the night sky, and we intrepid revelers.
