Even with my new SuperSpy superiority, basset hounds like me are not known for our decision-making abilities. With the whole world literally at my paws, I am at a loss deciding where to go on my first flight. I could visit my favourite dog park, perhaps have a romp with that lean leggy husky I’ve had my eyes on for weeks now- but this seems unnecessary considering my humans will probably be bringing me there later today. Maybe I should lay waste to that vile Mutt and Shine Grooming place where I sometimes have to suffer through humiliating baths which always leave my skin feeling itchy- but I am not really sure how my weapons work and I certainly don’t want to hurt anyone…
Perhaps I’m thinking too much about it. I’ve got stress-slobber forming a long line down my jowls and it’s starting to slime up my flight console. It’s decision time. I set my sights on a high peak in the background and paw the throttle to mid-speed. My humans live in the shadow of the Rocky Mountains. Our home city is known for its beautiful central river and rolling plains, but the mountains are visible from my backyard and I love feeling their raw wildness whenever my humans take me to visit.
As a big dog on little legs, mountains are somewhat challenging for me. The higher and higher I climb, the more difficult it becomes for this big chest of mine to gulp in enough air and the harder it is for these little legs to lift my dense body. Sure, I work out, but let’s be realistic here- basset hounds are not built for mountains. In my spaceship, however, I can scale mountains better than an eagle.
I set down at the edge of a very inviting glacial plain. The mountain wildflowers and in full bloom and there is a shallow creek winding through the middle of the plain. I know that the water will be freezing, but I cannot stop myself from taking off my spacesuit and dipping my paws into the water. If I didn’t already know that I am part of an elite race of superior basset beings, I would swear that I am part hippopotamus- I can stand in a creek or river for hours on end, wallowing in the shallows and lapping up fresh mountain water to my heart’s content.
I see a group of big horn sheep in the distance. They’ve seen my spaceship and are walking, single-file, away from my intrusion. None of them seem overly troubled by my presence, but their leader (a giant brute of a sheep with an alarmingly large set of curly horns) has been giving me backward glances. I let loose the biggest ‘Bar-ooo’ that I can, and am pleasantly surprised at how loud and powerful I sound with the mountains to echo my voice. Their leader hurries his herd along, and I am oddly satisfied to see them retreat in the distance.
Left to my own devices, it occurs to me that this beautiful, isolated mountain plain is the perfect place for a secret lair. I’ve never had a secret lair, besides my dog crate and now my shed, but still… You never know when a secret lair might come in handy. I’ll have to remember this place.
The sun is getting lower, and it’s time to get home before my humans get home from work. Honestly, it’s been amazing but I cannot wait for some head scratches and my evening biscuit.