I used to hike with my American pits, Hemingway and Penny. I absolutely did NOT want pit bulls--truly--but at my business in a rough part of town, these two dogs showed up as strays (a few months apart as pups)and...well it was meant to be. I kept them at work with me and trained them daily, so they would absolutely obey my few commands, "Stay" and "Come." In fact, I remember hiking along the American River, Hemingway fanning out on my left and Penny on the right, when a deer burst out running. Hemingway, the male, instantly gave chase. I yelled, "Hem-ing-way--come!" and he stopped and returned. I knew then I had a special dog. Penny stayed, too, never giving chase in the first place.

Another time my buddy and I were encamped along Cole Creek and it was late. We'd hiked a distance, and Hemingway was tired. He wandered over to the tent and said Woof. "No, you wait, bud; it's not bedtime yet," I told him. Then I hear a CRASH. He had jumped up on top of my tent, cracking a fiberglass pole in the process! We were laughing too hard to get angry. (I let the dogs in the tent.)

Back in the 90s I mountain biked a trail along the American River outside of Auburn, the dogs running alongside me. The trail ended and it looked like it continued on the other side. So naturally I dove in the river with mountain bike in tow and swam the snow-melt cold to the other side. Penny dutifully swam with me, but Hemingway just found a spot in the sun and looked back over at me and said, "Woof." In essence he said, "You guys can be stupid by crossing this river, but I'm too pretty and smart to be joining you in such a foolish endeavor."

My dogs passed away a few years back.