Monty was never meant to be a mountain climbing dog. Indeed, I was never planning on climbing more than a handful of Munros; a few days here and there with friends was about all I aspired to. I wasn’t even really meant to get a dog – my wife turned up one day with a springer spaniel in a crate and that was it; I was the completely unprepared owner of, I believe, the biggest English Springer Spaniel in Scotland .
Built like a Russian Shot-putter, long legged and far too intelligent for his own good, he was simultaneously a complete nightmare and an absolute joy (as relationship I’m sure most puppy owners will understand). The main issue we had, aside from the usual puppy related problems, was that we simply could not tire him out. We’d come in from a 3 hour walk and he’d look at me as if he’d been thoroughly short changed; sad spaniel eyes proclaiming that I was the worst human being on earth.
In the absence of being able to report me to the RSPCA, he had the remarkable affectation of putting his head in plant pots for hours on end to show his abject disgust at our alleged short walks. So one day, completely exasperated, I decided to see how he’d get on up a mountain. We jumped in the car and headed over to a snow-capped Ben Narnain in December 2018.
And that was it; he shot up the mountain like a hairy express train and discovered his purpose in life. And in finding that we forged a bond that I don’t believe I’ll ever replicate again. From this humble saunte.
