New life at the Old Dog House

Lessons I learned from Miss Mae as we hiked together on the first warm day of spring:

-        Fast is overrated.  Steady is much better.

-        Age can define you, but only if you let it.

-        Sometimes you climb to the top. Sometimes you find a shady spot and wait at the bottom.  Whatever you decide….own it.

We are headed uphill in a ponderosa pine forest halfway between Florissant and Guffey. The sun is warm. Pasque flowers poke through the blanket of dry, crisp pine needles on the ground.  The ground crackles and crunches with each footstep. 

I pull ahead of Miss Mae, then stop to watch her pick her way up a steep section of trail.  Short and stout, she wears her black coat like a comfortable, slightly rumpled housedress.   

We continue uphill, but when I turn around again to check on Mae, I see her make a decision – she’ll wait.  She doesn’t mind.  She’s got time.  She’s not going anywhere.

That’s a wise decision.  Miss Mae, a 12-year-old Schipperke, has the perfect home. As a resident of the Old Dog House, she lives in harmony with Sindy Andersen and a family of canines. All live together under one roof, in a comfortable cabin heated by the sun and powered by the wind.

Sindy and her partner Pam Carr started Old Dog House in 2004 as a non-profit rescue group - a safe place and forever home for dogs who had been abandoned, discarded, or traded in for newer models. Almost all are senior citizens (one is 17) with  typical senior maladies – cataracts, worn-out joints, thinning hair, some toothless grins.  But this group of oldsters doesn’t sit around talking about their ills.  Instead, they spend their days patrolling Sindy’s sprawling property in the mountains or staking out a patch of sunlight on the deck, always watchful for treats or the promise of a walk. 

Since its beginnings, Old Dog House was a way for Sindy and Pam to open their arms and hearts to dogs that needed them.  Their life running the rescue was good, allowing the pair of them to do what they loved, together.  But Pam died in March, 2012, and Sindy was left to care for their family, which today includes 25 dogs and two cats. 

Sindy’s house is warm and comfortable.  Natural wood walls showcase photos and paintings of dogs.  Fleece blankets and dog beds take up much of the floor space, and dogs sprawl on the furniture. 

On the day we hike, Miss Mae; Curtis, a brindle Staffordshire terrier; Murphy, a bearded collie; Ruger, a hulking black German shepherd, and several others poke happily through the forest, nosing new pincushion cacti and rolling in beds of kinnikinnick.  

As we climb, with Miss Mae waiting patiently below, we begin to get glimpses of the sky.  At the top of a rock outcropping, with snow-covered peaks glimmering in the distance, we find a boulder and sit for a while. 

The wind ruffles sun-bleached prayer flags that Sindy has strung from a twisted pine skeleton.  Curtis stretches, reaching toward the sun.  

It’s quiet here, peaceful, and the dogs seem to feel that peace.

We could, all of us, sit here all day, savoring the view and feeling the wind.  But down below, Miss Mae has turned around.  The others soon follow, heading for home.

(Click here to learn more about Old Dog House)