It was time to shake things up a bit: get off of my sofa, see the world, and get some exercise. I decided to take a hike into Temescal Canyon.
Thomas was the obvious choice to lead the trip. He is familiar with the Santa Monica Mountains, he uses good judgement, and I trust him.
We went up via El Medio, and thence onto our initial trail. The view was wide and lovely, and we stopped to enjoy it before continuing our ascent.
But things got unpleasant a few minutes later, when Thomas spotted a cruel sign on the trail ahead of us. He tried to turn me around and pull me back before I could read it. But I ignored him and, scampering ahead, was exposed to the sign in its full horror.
We turned back down, of course, descending into Temescal Canyon and into a mood that I would characterize as more minor key.
To get back home, we walked up Sunset Boulevard.
When we passed a mysteriously empty picture frame on the hillside retaining wall, Thomas seized upon it as an opportunity to build up my shaken self-esteem.
He exhorted me to hold my head up high and be proud that I'm a dog.
What a wise leader.
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