Travel

NASA astronaut Suni Williams reunited with her dogs Rotor and Gunner after nearly 10 months aboard the International Space Station. A heartwarming homecoming you don’t want to miss!  A Mission Meant to Last Days, But Stretched Into Months In June 2024, NASA astronaut Suni Williams launched into space with fellow astronaut Butch Wilmore for what was supposed to be a short mission — just over a week aboard the International Space Station (ISS). But due to unexpected technical malfunctions, their stay stretched from days into nearly 10 long months. During that extended period away from Earth, Williams missed many things: fresh food, her family, and the simple comforts of home. But above all, she longed for the company of her two beloved dogs, Rotor and Gunner, who were waiting patiently for her return. A Thoughtful Gift: Dogs That Traveled to Space (In Spirit) Friends at the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution (WHOI) knew how much Rotor and Gunner meant to Williams. To help lift her spirits, they arranged a surprise. On a resupply mission to the ISS, they sent her figurines modeled after Rotor and Gunner. Though not the same as cuddling her pups, the tiny replicas brought her joy and comfort while floating 250 miles above Earth. As WHOI shared on social media:“What’s the number one thing astronaut Suni Williams missed in space? Besides fresh salad and her family — it was her dogs Rotor and Gunner!” The Long-Awaited Homecoming Finally, after months of delays and uncertainty, Williams and her colleague returned safely to Earth. While her reentry was a monumental moment for space exploration, her biggest celebration happened at home. When Williams walked through the door, Rotor and Gunner’s tails wagged furiously, and their excitement was impossible to contain. The astronaut, who had been weightless for months, suddenly felt the grounding warmth of unconditional love — wrapped in fur and slobbery kisses. She later shared the emotional reunion video, showing her pups racing toward her with boundless joy. “Best homecoming ever!” she captioned it. Why Pet Reunions Touch the Heart So Deeply The story of Suni Williams isn’t just about space travel — it’s about the unbreakable bond between humans and their pets. Dogs don’t understand time the way we do, yet their loyalty never fades. After nearly a year apart, Rotor and Gunner welcomed their mom as if she’d never left. For Williams, the reunion was proof that even after months of isolation, love has the power to heal and reconnect us.

A Familiar Path, An Unbelievable Sighting For a dedicated hiker, a familiar trail becomes a kind of moving meditation. The rhythm of your boots on the dirt, the familiar twist of the path, the way the light hits a particular rock at a certain time of day—these are the details that build a deep and personal relationship with a place. For Jacqueline Hurst, Phoenix’s Piestewa Peak is just such a place. Having hiked its trails nearly a hundred times, she thought she knew its secrets. But on a recent early morning hike, just as the sun was beginning to cast its golden glow over the desert landscape, the mountain decided to share one of its most precious secrets with her. It began as a flicker of movement in her peripheral vision, a subtle disturbance among the rocks and shrubs that could have easily been missed. She paused, her senses on alert. And then, she saw it. “I saw that unmistakable beautiful tail,” Hurst said. It was the iconic, black-and-white banded tail of a ringtail, a creature so elusive it feels more like a myth than a mammal. The heart of an experienced hiker and nature lover skipped a beat. The ringtail, despite being Arizona’s official state mammal, is a phantom. A well-kept secret of the Sonoran night. While often mistaken for a cat or a fox, it is actually a member of the raccoon family, a creature perfectly designed for a life lived in shadow. Their most striking feature is, of course, the magnificent, fluffy tail, often longer than their body, which they use for balance as they navigate rocky cliffs and canyons with breathtaking agility. Their other defining characteristic is a pair of enormous, dark eyes—two polished orbs designed to drink in the moonlight, granting them superb night vision and an undeniably adorable appearance. They are, by nature, deeply shy and reclusive, creatures who avoid humans at all costs. To see one at all is a gift. To see one in the daylight, just a few feet away, is nothing short of a miracle. Hurst, who had only seen one once before in her countless hikes, knew she was being granted a rare and precious audience with the ghost of the desert. A Moment of Stillness, A Complicated Joy The world seemed to shrink to the small space between hiker and animal. Hurst froze, instinctively holding her breath, not wanting to make a sound that might shatter the magical spell of the moment. Just a few feet away, the ringtail was calmly enjoying a small piece of fruit, seemingly unbothered by her presence. She slowly, carefully, raised her camera, capturing the delicate paws, the curious face, and those incredible eyes. “They’re quite small, and certainly very cute,” Hurst recalled. A wave of pure, unadulterated joy washed over her. This was the moment every wildlife enthusiast dreams of: a peaceful, close encounter, a silent, mutual acknowledgement of existence. But as the seconds ticked by, a second, more complicated feeling began to surface. A nagging worry settled in her gut. A truly wild ringtail should be wary. It should not be this comfortable, this close to a human, especially not after the sun had already risen. Her joy was now tinged with a deep and unsettling concern. The Vanishing Act and a Plea for Wildness After a few more moments, as if a silent alarm had gone off, the ringtail finished its meal and vanished. It didn’t just run; it seemed to melt back into the rocks and shadows, disappearing with a fluid grace that left Hurst wondering if she had imagined the whole thing. But the photos on her camera were proof that the magical encounter was real. As she continued her hike, the initial euphoria gave way to a more sober reflection. “Unfortunately, I think one of the reasons that this particular ringtail was still active after sunrise is likely because some hikers are either leaving food behind or actually feeding the ringtails,” Hurst said. She recognized the dangerous truth that many well-meaning people don’t: habituating a wild animal to humans is a threat to its survival. “I think people believe they are doing a good thing, but they’re not.” A fed animal is often a dead animal. Hurst left the mountain that day basking not just in the glow of a rare sighting, but with a renewed sense of purpose: to share her incredible story and to gently remind us all that the greatest kindness we can show wildlife is to let it remain truly, beautifully wild.

That Familiar, Heart-Wrenching Question Have you ever been there? You’re standing on a balcony in a new city, watching the sun dip below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. It’s a perfect moment, but there’s a quiet little ache in your heart. You find yourself thinking, “I wish my cat could see this.” Or maybe you’ve been faced with a life-changing opportunity—a new job, a new love, a new life in a different country—and the first, most terrifying thought that comes to mind is, “But what about the cat?” The idea of traveling with a cat, especially on a long journey like a flight, can seem completely overwhelming. Cats are creatures of comfort, tiny masters of their own familiar territories. They are not, by nature, globetrotting adventurers. But leaving them behind is often an unthinkable, heartbreaking alternative. The good news is that with careful planning, a lot of patience, and a deep understanding of your feline friend, traveling with your cat is not just possible; it can be an incredibly rewarding experience. I know because I’ve done it, and while the journey was stressful, the reward of having my best friends with me at our new destination was worth every single moment of anxiety. Your First Stop: A Conversation with Your Vet Before you book a single ticket or pack a single bag, your first and most important stop is your veterinarian’s office. This is the foundational step that ensures everything that follows is done safely and responsibly. Your vet will be your trusted partner in this adventure, helping you navigate the medical side of your cat’s journey. They will make sure your kitty is medically cleared to travel and up-to-date on all their necessary vaccinations. This is also the time to have an honest conversation about your cat’s anxiety. Let’s be real: most cats are not going to enjoy the experience of being in a carrier, in a car, or on a plane. If you’re concerned about your cat’s stress levels, your vet can be a lifesaver. “Many pets do benefit from some pharmacologic help while flying,” says Dr. Zach Marteney, a veterinarian and medical director at Meadowlands Veterinary Hospital. He emphasizes that you should “discuss any calming products with your family veterinarian before giving them to your cat.” They can help you find a safe and effective prescription medication to ease their travel anxiety. If your vet does prescribe something, be sure to do a trial run a few days before you leave. This gives you a chance to see how your cat reacts in the comfort of your own home, so there are no surprises on travel day. For international travel, this vet visit is even more critical. Each country has its own strict and often complex set of rules. A USDA-accredited veterinarian is essential to help you research your destination’s requirements, from specific vaccinations to microchips and time-sensitive health certificates, ensuring your cat’s entry into a new country is as smooth as possible. Gearing Up for the Grand Adventure Once you have the green light from your vet, it’s time to gather your equipment. Choosing the right gear is all about creating a small, mobile bubble of comfort and safety for your cat in a world that will feel strange and chaotic to them. For a road trip, you have a bit more flexibility. A spacious, sturdy carrier with good ventilation is key. You can fill it with your cat’s favorite blankets and toys—familiar scents that will remind them of home and provide a sense of security. Flying, however, comes with a lot more restrictions. You’ll need a soft-sided carrier that meets your specific airline’s size regulations, which usually means it needs to be small enough to fit under the seat in front of you. Look for a carrier with plenty of mesh for ventilation and, if possible, one with expandable sides. On my flight with my cat Pumpkin, being able to open up the expandable sides once we were at cruising altitude was a game-changer. It gave her the space to stretch out and sleep in her favorite “shrimp” position for most of the flight. You’ll also want to pack a “go-bag” of essentials for the journey: a portable travel litter box, a small bag of litter, potty pads to line the carrier in case of accidents, pet-friendly wipes, and collapsible food and water bowls. Having these items on hand will make you feel prepared for any situation that might arise. The Art of the Practice Run Imagine your cat’s perspective: a strange box (the carrier) appears, they are placed inside it against their will, and then they are subjected to a series of strange and loud noises. It’s a recipe for stress. You can significantly reduce this anxiety by getting your cat familiar with their travel equipment long before the actual travel day. “Get the carrier out of the closet and keep it visible for at least a few days before your travel,” Dr. Marteney advises. “This lets them get used to it and makes it less stressful to get into it when the time comes.” Turn the carrier into a safe and happy place. Leave it open in the living room, put their favorite treats or blankets inside, and let them explore it on their own terms. It’s also a great idea to do a few “dry runs” in the car. Put your cat in their carrier, go for a short drive around the block, and then come right back home and reward them with a treat. This helps them understand that not every car ride ends at the vet. For air travel, it’s helpful to practice the security checkpoint procedure at home. You will have to take your cat out of the carrier to walk through the metal detector. Practice holding your cat securely against your chest in a calm environment, so the rushed and chaotic experience at the airport is a little less jarring for

A Dog Who Knows the Tides There’s a different kind of energy in the house on a Saturday morning. My other two dogs, the girls, stretch and greet the day with a familiar, lazy contentment. But Mylo, my wildly energetic and far-too-smart-for-his-own-good pup, knows the difference. He can sense the weekend in the very air he breathes. For him, a Saturday in Hawaii doesn’t just mean a break from the work week; it means the promise of the ocean. It means he gets to surf all day. Our morning begins with a familiar routine: a shared breakfast, a sunny walk to stretch our legs, and the quiet thrum of anticipation. While his sisters are content with a simple walk, Mylo’s mind is already at Portlock Beach, already tasting the salt spray and feeling the rhythm of the waves. He is a creature possessed by a single, all-consuming passion: surfing. It’s a love that he initiated, a passion that he demanded we explore together, and one that has come to define our incredible bond. He’s not a dog who was trained to do a trick for a treat; he is a true, soul-surfing waterman who just happens to have four legs and a tail. And when Mylo wants to surf—which is most days—it’s my job, and my absolute joy, to be his partner on the waves. The Art of the Shared Wave We like to get to the beach early, before the Hawaiian sun gets too hot for the dogs. Beach safety is always our top priority, and we keep a close, constant eye on how they’re doing, ensuring there’s always shade and fresh water available. As soon as his paws hit the sand, Mylo is ready to go. The sight of the surfboard sends him into a frenzy of joyful, spinning circles. But before we can hit the waves, I like to start the day with a group activity, so his sisters don’t feel left out. For some strange and wonderful reason, Mylo is obsessed with chasing the splashes made by rocks hitting the water. So, for a while, I’ll throw stones into the gentle surf, and he’ll bound after each splash with a ferocious joy, a game he could play for hours. His sisters will chase after him for a bit, but they soon get bored and switch to their own games of tag on the sand. But Mylo never tires. He is a dog of boundless energy and incredible focus, a combination that makes him the perfect surfing companion. Finally, the moment he’s been waiting for arrives. I pick up the surfboard, and he knows it’s time. We paddle out together into the calm, turquoise water, past the initial break, to where the real waves are forming. He instinctively knows where to be on the board, positioning himself near the front with the confidence of a seasoned pro. It took a few months for him to get comfortable on the board, and a few more to master the art of riding the waves from the nose, but this was all his idea. I never pushed him; I simply followed his lead. He was the one who was always demanding to ride along, and now, he’s completely and utterly addicted to the thrill. A Rhythm of Sun, Salt, and Splashes Once we’re out on the water, we fall into a familiar, beautiful rhythm. We wait patiently, bobbing in the gentle swell, our eyes on the horizon. Mylo gets a little impatient between sets, so I always come prepared. I keep a few small, smooth rocks in my pocket, and when the wait gets too long for him, I’ll toss one a few feet away. He’ll leap off the board, chase the splash, and then hop right back on, satisfied and ready for our next ride. When the right wave comes, a perfect, rolling swell, the feeling is pure magic. As the wave begins to lift us, I paddle hard, and in the moment we catch it, we are in perfect sync. We glide across the face of the wave, a silent, coordinated dance between man and dog. I can feel the power of the ocean beneath us, and I can see the pure, unadulterated joy on Mylo’s face as he feels the wind in his fur, his body perfectly balanced, his spirit completely free. This is our happy place, a shared sanctuary in the middle of the mountains of water. We usually surf for about an hour at a time. If it were up to him, we would stay out there all day, but I don’t like to keep him in the water for too long. As we paddle back to the beach, he is a picture of contentment. He greets his sisters and my wife with a happy, full-body shake, showering them in salt water, before coming up to me to deliver a barrage of grateful, happy kisses. It’s his way of saying thank you after a perfect session. An Encore in the Evening Glow After a long nap and a late lunch back at home, the familiar itch begins again. By late afternoon, Mylo can sense that the day isn’t over yet. He starts to follow me around, his eyes full of hopeful expectation. As I start to pack up the car for a second time, he is thrilled, trying to “help” by nudging the surfboard with his nose, his entire body quivering with excitement. We head back to the beach for our second session of the day, Mylo’s home away from home. The evening light is different, softer and warmer, casting a golden glow over the water. We repeat our sacred routine: paddle out, ride the waves, chase some rocks, and do it all over again. Even though we literally just did this a few hours ago, for Mylo, it’s like Christmas morning every single time. The joy is just as pure, the excitement just as intense. As we finally paddle back to the beach

An Adventure for Our Perfectly Imperfect Pack There’s a special kind of magic in the air on the morning of a road trip, a buzz of excitement that even the dogs can feel. As my boyfriend Jeremy and I woke up on Saturday, the usual quiet of the morning was replaced by a thrum of anticipation. Today was the day we were taking our little family camping at the beautiful Windfall Vineyards in Amity, Oregon. Our pack is a wonderfully mismatched one, a perfect blend of youthful exuberance and soulful wisdom. There’s Billie, a five-month-old rescue puppy whose every movement is a burst of joyful, chaotic energy. And then there is our sweet old girl, Beth. Beth is a three-legged Frenchie, a pint-sized warrior with a personality that is far bigger than her small, tripod frame. She is the calm, steady heart of our family, the quiet observer and the reigning queen of cuddles. This trip, with its promise of new scents and open spaces, was especially for her. The morning was a flurry of activity as we packed up our camper van. We made sure to gather all the essentials for a successful trip with our two furry co-pilots: plenty of their favorite food and fresh water, piles of extra blankets for the cool Oregon night, and, most importantly, Beth’s special carrier for when her three little legs would inevitably get tired. Every item we packed was a small token of our love, a tangible piece of the promise we have made to our dogs: to give them a life full of adventure, comfort, and unwavering love. The Journey and the Vineyard We hit the road with the pups excitedly gazing out the windows, the world speeding by in a blur of greens and blues. Beth, in her typical fashion, was quite vocal for the first leg of the drive, offering her throaty, Frenchie commentary on the passing scenery before the gentle motion of the van inevitably lulled her to sleep. Billie, on the other hand, was a wide-eyed tourist on her very first road trip. Her nose was pressed against the glass, a collection of foggy smudges her only evidence, as she tried to take in every new sight and smell the world had to offer. After a few hours, we stopped for a much-needed driving break, finding a quiet trail that wound its way through a peaceful forest. I carefully strapped Beth into her carrier on my chest, her little head peeking out, her ears twitching. This way, she could be part of the adventure, enjoying the fresh air and the scent of the pine trees, without tiring herself out. It was a joy to watch Billie, a true puppy, experiencing the wonders of a forest for the first time. Her nose was glued to the ground, her tail a blur of motion as she deciphered the secret, invisible stories left by the woodland creatures. By early evening, we finally arrived at the vineyard. It was breathtaking. Rows upon rows of lush, green grapevines stretched out across the rolling hills, bathed in the golden, honey-thick light of the setting sun. We found our spot and set up camp, letting the dogs explore their new, temporary kingdom. Billie, true to form, roamed through the open grass, a bundle of pure, unadulterated puppy joy. Beth, however, stayed closer to us, her comforting presence a steady anchor as I prepared our dinner. As Jeremy flew his new drone, capturing cool, sweeping shots of our little family from above, I looked at our two dogs—one at the very beginning of her life, and one in her precious golden years—and my heart felt completely full. This, right here, was everything. A Storm and a Starry Sky As night fell over the vineyard, a deep and profound sense of peace settled over our little campsite. The day’s heat gave way to a gentle coolness, and the sky transformed into a dark velvet canvas, dusted with a million brilliant stars. We started a small, crackling campfire and opened a bottle of wine from the vineyard, a perfect souvenir from a perfect day. We enjoyed a simple dinner, our faces lit by the warm, flickering glow of the fire, feeling like the only four souls in the entire world. Using a stargazing app on our iPad, we traced the constellations, our quiet whispers the only sound in the vast stillness of the night. Eventually, the long day of travel and excitement caught up with the pups, and they both drifted off to sleep in our laps, their soft, rhythmic breathing a comforting soundtrack to our peaceful evening. It was a perfect, serene end to a perfect day. Our little family of four snuggled into the camper van, warm and content, ready for a restful night under the stars. But around 3 a.m., we were jolted awake by a sound that was anything but peaceful. A violent storm had rolled in with a sudden fury, the wind howling like a mournful ghost and the rain lashing against the van in a relentless torrent. In a sleepy haze, we quickly realized we were parked in a low-lying area that was at risk of flooding. Working together in the dark, with the storm raging around us, we moved the van to a more sheltered spot on higher ground. It was a brief moment of chaos in an otherwise tranquil trip, a powerful reminder of the untamable and unpredictable beauty of nature. The Sweetness of a Slow Morning By morning, the storm had passed as quickly as it had arrived, leaving behind a world that felt washed clean and new. We woke up to the soft, gentle light of a post-rain sunrise, the air crisp and smelling of damp earth and wet leaves. Jeremy and I brewed coffee, its warm, rich aroma filling the small space of the van, and we made a big, leisurely breakfast, sharing little bites with our two very attentive supervisors, who had slept

A Moment of Grace in a World of Noise The New York City subway is a world of beautiful, chaotic, and often-overwhelming humanity. It’s a place where thousands of people, each wrapped in their own thoughts, deadlines, and private struggles, share a small, rumbling space for a few brief moments. It’s a place where the unwritten rule is to keep to yourself, to retreat into the bubble of your headphones, your book, or your own thoughts—a necessary defense against the sensory overload of the city. But the other day, amidst the usual rush and clamor, the screech of the wheels on the track, and the anonymous shuffle of feet, Gillian Rogers witnessed a scene so quiet, so tender, and so profoundly gentle that it cut through all the noise. As she was riding the train home, her eyes were drawn to a man sitting across from her. There was a stillness about him, a focused calm that was a stark contrast to the rattling of the train car. She soon realized he wasn’t alone. There, resting peacefully in his lap, was a tiny, impossibly small kitten, carefully and lovingly wrapped in a soft towel. The man held a small bottle to the kitten’s mouth, and with a gentle, patient hand that seemed oblivious to the world around him, he was bottle-feeding her. In the middle of the loud, impersonal, and often-gritty world of the subway, this man had created a tiny, private sanctuary of pure, unconditional love. It was a moment so unexpected and so beautiful that it felt like a secret the city had chosen to share with her. The Story of a Small Life Saved Gillian watched, completely captivated. The scene was almost surreal in its tenderness. The man’s focus was absolute; he was completely absorbed in the delicate and life-giving task of caring for this fragile little creature. He wasn’t on his phone. He wasn’t looking around. His entire world, in that moment, had shrunk to the size of the tiny being in his hands. “You could see the caring,” Gillian later recalled. “My heart felt like it was going to explode to see someone with that much caring. He was so in the moment.” As she watched, the tiny kitten, a little scrap of life that could fit in the palm of a hand, would look up at him, its eyes full of a quiet, trusting adoration. This was more than just a man with a pet; this was a rescuer, a guardian angel in a subway car, on a mission to save one very small, very vulnerable life. As her stop approached, Gillian knew she couldn’t leave without knowing the story. She had to understand how this beautiful, quiet moment had come to be. She approached the man and, over the rumble of the train, began to chat. He explained, in a simple and matter-of-fact way, that he had found the kitten all alone, cold and crying, huddled between two buildings. She was an orphan, a tiny, forgotten life in a city of millions, whose chances of survival were almost zero. Without a moment’s hesitation, he had scooped her up, wrapped her in a towel, and taken it upon himself to be her protector, her feeder, and her source of warmth and hope. A Renewed Faith in Humanity The man’s simple, selfless act of kindness was a powerful and unexpected gift. In a world that can often feel harsh, divided, and indifferent, this was a beautiful, shining example of the quiet goodness that still exists in the hearts of strangers. “It was so heartwarming,” Gillian said. Before she left the train, she looked at the man and said the only two words that felt adequate to express the gratitude she felt on behalf of the city, and on behalf of that tiny kitten: “Thank you.” She never got his name. They were two strangers who shared a brief, beautiful moment on a train, parting ways as anonymously as they had met. But the impact of that encounter on Gillian was profound and lasting. “When I got off the train, I felt like I was walking on air,” she said. “I felt joyful — like, it renewed my faith in humanity. There are still decent people out there.” For Gillian, the moment was especially poignant. As the founder of Pet Rescue Squad Inc., she has dedicated her own life to helping animals in need. She knows the heartbreak and the hard work that goes into every single rescue. To see that same spirit of compassion in a complete stranger, in such a public and yet intimate way, was a powerful affirmation of the work she does every day. It was a reminder that for every story of cruelty, there are quiet acts of love happening all around us. A Story the World Needed to See Deeply moved, Gillian posted a photo of the anonymous man and his tiny charge online, wanting to share the beautiful moment that had so lifted her spirits and restored her faith in the goodness of people. She had no idea that her simple post would resonate so deeply with millions of people all over the world. The image went viral, a digital beacon of hope in a sea of often-negative news. The story of the kind stranger on the subway became a global phenomenon, shared millions of times across countless platforms. It was a testament to the universal power of a simple act of compassion. People from all walks of life were touched by the image of the man’s gentle hands and the kitten’s trusting gaze. “I had no idea the photo was going to resonate as it has. It makes me happy,” Gillian said. “I think we all need something to cheer us up.” In the end, the man on the subway did more than just save one tiny, helpless kitten. With his quiet act of love, witnessed by a stranger and shared with the world, he reminded millions

A Shadow, A Lifeline Not too long ago, my world had shrunk to the size of a single room. My mornings were a battle against the crushing weight of depression, a fog so thick that getting out of bed felt like a monumental effort. The pandemic had stripped away my work, my finances had dwindled to nothing, and a broken heart had left me feeling utterly adrift. Happiness felt like a distant country I had been exiled from. Then, a shadow with a wagging tail and the saddest eyes I’d ever seen came into my life. His name was Ouka, a beautiful, huge rescue dog who had his own ghosts. He’d been abandoned, adopted, and then returned to the shelter—twice. He was a dog who had been told, in no uncertain terms, that he was not wanted. In him, I saw a reflection of my own feelings of worthlessness. I think we both needed a rescue. Adopting Ouka was an act of desperation, a last-ditch effort to give myself a reason to face the day. A dog doesn’t care if you’re drowning in sadness; when he needs to go out, you have to get up. He was my lifeline. He forced me out of my bed and into the world, one reluctant step at a time. We needed each other in a way that’s hard to explain. We were two broken souls who, in the quiet understanding that passes between a man and a dog, began to heal one another. And in the most unexpected and beautiful twist of fate, Ouka led me to the other great love of my life. Lauriane, his dog sitter at the time, was a kind-hearted ICU nurse with a smile that could cut through any fog. He brought me to her. An Adventure in the Morning Air Now, my mornings are different. The alarm clock still rings at 6 a.m., a signal that Lauriane is getting ready for a grueling 12-hour shift at the hospital. I’ll drift in a state of half-sleep, hearing her soft voice telling Ouka to stay put, that it’s not time for his adventure just yet. But by 8 a.m., the mountain sun is streaming into our van, and the day insists on beginning. The moment Ouka senses I’m truly awake, he’s on his feet, his tail thumping a steady rhythm against the wall, his eyes fixed on the door. There’s no arguing. I open the door, and he steps out into the crisp Alpine air, finding a cool spot in the shade to supervise my morning routine. Breakfast is a shared ritual, though his idea of “sharing” involves him finishing his bowl in approximately ten seconds and then staring at my food with an expression of profound, theatrical starvation. As I sip my coffee, I check the weather. The forecast is a perfect poem for a paraglider: a beautiful, sunny day with a light south breeze expected in the afternoon. It’s a perfect day to fly. The moment Ouka sees me pull on my hiking shoes, he knows. A new energy fills him, the quiet anticipation of an adventure about to begin. I get my pack ready—a lightweight glider, my harness and helmet, and a special custom-made flying harness for Ouka. I pack water for us both and a cereal bar for me. With just a few kilograms on my back, we are free. The world is our launchpad. A Leap of Faith, Together I clip the canicross harness to Ouka, and we begin our slow, steady hike up the mountain. This gentle climb is a chance to warm up our muscles and for Ouka to, well, take care of business. When we reach our take-off spot, a beautiful clearing overlooking the valley, we pause to drink and catch our breath. I watch the wind socks, observing the gentle currents. Everything looks perfect. Ouka, in his element, immediately begins his favorite game: collecting cuddles from every other pilot preparing to fly. He is a master of affection, a big, furry ambassador of goodwill who has never met a stranger he couldn’t charm into giving him a good scratch behind the ears. When the conditions are just right, it’s time. I lay out the glider, a vibrant swath of fabric on the green grass. “Ouka, harness!” I say, and he calmly allows me to fit him into his special gear. He has never been afraid of heights. Even standing on the edge of a cliff, he looks down with a calm curiosity, a true adventurer’s spirit. Teaching him to fly with me was a process built on trust and countless treats. I taught him the command “Take off,” which is his cue to come and stand between my legs, ready to run with me. This gives him the power to choose; if he ever didn’t want to fly, he could simply run away. But he never does. “Take off, Ouka!” He moves into position, and I connect his harness to mine with a secure carabiner. We wait for the perfect gust of wind. I feel it, a gentle, upward push. “OK, let’s go!” I shout. I pull the glider up, it inflates above us like a giant lung, and then comes the final command: “Run! Run! Run, Ouka!” A Shared Sky, A Quiet Gratitude We run together, our steps getting bigger and lighter until, in a magical, weightless moment, the ground simply falls away. We are flying. The air up here is different. It’s clean and quiet, the silence broken only by the gentle whisper of the wind through the lines of the glider. Ouka is completely serene. He settles in, and I rest my feet just under his paws, a small point of connection that reminds us we are in this together. We don’t talk much. I just scratch his head from time to time, and he leans into my touch, perfectly content. From our vantage point, the world is a beautiful map laid out below. We see

A Trip for the Girl Who Deserved the World There’s a certain kind of electric hum in the air just before a trip, a thrum of anticipation that every dog seems to sense. For our rescue pittie, Maya, the day before our big glamping getaway to Big Bear was no different. You could see it in the extra wag of her tail, in the way she followed us from room to room as we started to gather our things. She knew something special was happening. Before we could even think about packing our own bags, though, our first priority was Maya. We’d only had her in our lives for a few months, and every day we were still learning the depths of the gentle soul who had been through so much. All we knew about her past was that she was found abandoned in the woods, a story that felt impossibly cruel for a creature so full of love. So, we made a silent promise to her: from now on, her life would be filled with nothing but comfort, love, and the kind of gentle adventures she had always deserved. This trip was the first grand gesture in that promise. It was going to be her first real vacation, and we wanted it to be perfect. With the cold November air of the mountains in mind, our first stop was the pet store. We were on a mission for the perfect jacket. Maya, ever the patient princess, stood calmly as we tried on five or six different coats. Some were too tight, others too flashy. And then we found it—a cozy, blue jacket that fit her perfectly. She looked like a seasoned adventurer, ready for whatever the mountains had in store. Back at home, the packing began in earnest. We laid out matching pajamas for Maya and her mama, a silly but sweet touch for our first family trip. We gathered piles of extra blankets, her new jacket, and of course, plenty of her favorite food. Every item we packed was a small token of our love, a tangible piece of the promise we had made to her. This wasn’t just going to be a glamping trip; it was going to be the most luxurious, cozy, and love-filled getaway a rescued pittie could ever dream of. A Whole New World of Firsts We hit the road bright and early on Friday, leaving the sprawl of Los Angeles behind for the crisp mountain air of Big Bear. Maya was a natural traveler. From the very first day we brought her home from the shelter, she had a way of making herself comfortable in the car, claiming her spot as if she’d been our co-pilot for her entire life. She watched the city give way to rolling hills and then to towering pines, her nose twitching, taking in all the new smells. When we arrived, our little cabin was everything we had hoped for. It was a cozy sanctuary with huge windows that framed the stunning mountain landscape, allowing Maya to enjoy the view even from the warmth of the indoors. The company we booked with had clearly understood that Maya was the VIP of this trip; they had left out bowls of fresh water and a generous stash of treats just for her, a welcome that made her feel right at home instantly. The rest of the afternoon was spent exploring. For a dog who had known the fear and uncertainty of the woods, this was a different kind of wilderness. This was a place of adventure, not survival. She took it all in with a quiet confidence—the scent of the pine needles, the vastness of the sky, the crunch of the earth beneath her paws. As the sun began to dip below the peaks, casting a golden glow over the landscape, we built our first campfire. We laid out a special blanket for Maya, her own spot by the fire, where she curled up and watched the flames dance, her coat warm and toasty. Saturday was Maya’s day of firsts. After a cozy morning, we geared up for a hike. She had never been on a real trail before, and her excitement was boundless. She bounded up and down the path, her nose to the ground, sniffing every new and fascinating scent the forest had to offer. And then, we reached a clearing, and she saw it: snow. She stopped, her head cocked in confusion at the strange, cold, white powder under her paws. After a moment of hesitation, she took a tentative step, then another, before breaking into a joyful run, kicking up little clouds of snow behind her. Seeing that pure, unadulterated joy was a moment we’ll never forget. After our hike, it was time for another first. We headed into the charming little town, and Maya, ever the social butterfly, greeted every person and dog we passed with a happy wag. We stopped at a local coffee shop, and while we got our lattes, we ordered Maya her very first puppuccino. She slurped it down with gusto, her face covered in whipped cream. It was an instant obsession. To this day, every time she sees a coffee cup, her eyes light up with the hopeful excitement that it might be a special treat just for her. The Coziest Night and a New Tradition Back at the shelter and in her first few weeks with us, Maya had her own bed. It was a rule we thought was important, a way to establish boundaries. But up in the mountains, in our tiny, cozy cabin, there was simply no room for a separate dog bed. So, on our first night, we explained the situation to her. With a heavy heart and a dramatic sigh, Maya, much to her feigned disappointment, was “forced” to abandon her lonely bed on the floor. Her only option was to find a spot in the big, warm, comfortable bed with her two favorite