Above is a picture of my dog Goose this morning. You'll notice that he's not putting any weight on one of his back paws.
Thanksgiving Thursday was beautiful in the bay area, my Mom and I decided to go for a hike in the Marin Headlands before heading down to my Aunt's house in Los Altos for dinner. It was magnificent in the headlands, the air was remarkably clear.
On Friday it was nearly as beautiful and not having much planned until early evening, I decided to make a trip to Santa Cruz. I wanted to take a tour of UC Santa Cruz and then go to a beach up Highway 1 that I used to frequent with my university geology classes.
I started remembering things about my school days as soon as I saw the old ranch buildings at the entrance to campus (before becoming a school in 1965 the campus was a working ranch and limestone mine). I hadn't been to UCSC since I graduated in 1997, but the place hadn't changed much. There was a new bookstore, some subtle infill of housing and classroom buildings, but all in all it looked familiar.
I parked my car near the bookstore and my dog and I set off on a hike. We started at the quarry amphitheater just above the bookstore. Passing through the outdoor exhibition space, we headed deeper into the quarry and this is where some of the more subtle memories from school started making themselves felt. I looked up at a steep rock wall and saw the fence behind Classroom Unit 2. This is where I took countless large, forgettable courses: earthquakes and you; Anthropology 1 and others. I remembered classmates who I hadn't thought of in a long time.
From the back of the quarry the trail narrows and a branch heads up to the science complex. My dog was running full speed on the trail, keeping an eye on me but forging ahead to explore. The hum of white noise is pleasantly noticeable near the science buildings. I walked into the library here and remembered my days wielding power at the circulation desk.
Down the hill I went, heading towards my residential college when I heard my dog crash down a large cement ledge. He was hurt and began to limp and cry in pain. I calmed him down, then carried him some distance back to my car.
Now two days later all is okay. I am told that my dog Goose does not have a broken foot, just a sprain. His full energy has returned, though he still walks without using his injured paw, so I have taken to calling him Hoppy.
