I’m thrilled Victoria Stilwell took the time to chat with me since she is extremely busy with all of her projects. The charming English trainer is the star of Animal Planet’s “It’s Me or the Dog,” CEO of Victoria Stilwell Positively Dog Training, editor-in-chief of Positively.com, author of numerous best-selling books, including “Train Your Dog Positively,” and founder of the nonprofit Victoria Stilwell Foundation, which provides financial assistance and canine behavior expertise to assistance dog organizations and smaller rescue shelters.

Victoria is passionate about spreading the word about the value of positive training techniques, so it’s no surprise she told me the No. 1 thing pet owners should know about dog training is, “It should be fun and positive both for you and your dog.”  

“If you want to have a good relationship with your dog, if you want your dog to learn effectively and quickly, if you want your dog to trust you, if you want your dog to listen to you, if you want to shape and raise your dog to be emotionally stable, and if you want to have a better idea of your dog’s behavior in certain situations, use positive training,” Victoria said. She said dominance training, which can include intimidation with physically aversive techniques or equipment such as shock collars, merely suppresses a dog’s behavior. In contrast, positive training, which involves praise and rewards, actually changes the way a dog thinks and feels. For example, if a dog is “leash reactive” on walks when he sees another dog approaching and starts barking and lunging, rather than punishing the dog, Victoria uses redirection and positive techniques to address his discomfort and insecurity around other dogs.

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“I teach the dog that good things happen when they see another dog,” she said. “And I do that by pairing the sight of another dog with something that my reactive dog loves. It could be food, it could be toys, it could be petting, it could be a game. And every single time it sees another dog in the distance, its favorite thing happens.”

After a while, instead of reacting by barking, growling or gnashing his teeth, the dog will look to his handler for a reward as the other dog walks past.

“I would rather work a little bit more to change behavior for the rest of the life of the dog than rely on having to suppress behavior throughout the life of the dog,” she said.

Victoria has seen countless success stories thanks to positive training, such as Scooby, a Pit Bull/Rhodesian Ridgeback mix who had terrible separation anxiety. If his family left the house, he would leap through glass windows or chew through the garage door to get outside. But she worked with him and after six weeks, he became a completely different dog. She also helped an American Bulldog, Jed, stop biting people who entered his home.

“I think the most important point to make is that a lot of people have this idea that positive training only works on puppies or small little dogs – that the tougher the dog, the bigger the dog, the more aggressive the dog, the tougher you have to be. That couldn’t be further from the truth,” she said. “The tougher, the bigger, the larger, the more fierce the dog, the kinder you have to be. That’s what gets results.”

Victoria said positive training methods also work well with helping transition shelter dogs to their new forever homes. In fact, the foundation of her training was working with shelter dogs and she is mom to two rescued dogs, Sadie, a chocolate Lab, and Jasmine, a Chihuahua mix. Naturally, she adores them.

“They love each other. Jasmine spends a lot of time sleeping on Sadie’s back,” she said, adding, “Some of my best dogs are from shelters.”

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Victoria said food can be a very powerful training tool because it is incompatible with fear. While adrenaline and stress hormones caused by fear can prevent a dog from learning, letting a dog smell food before it is agitated changes the way its brain works by releasing the neurotransmitter dopamine.

“The anticipation of the food releases a flood of dopamine – which is your happy chemical, the pleasure chemical, reward-seeking, learning chemical, and a very important chemical for motor coordination – into the brain. So now the brain is flooded with happy thoughts rather than, ‘There’s another dog coming!’”

Victoria loves helping dogs as well as their owners. She said she believes most people don’t want to cause their dog pain or intimidate their dog, but might not know better. For that reason, she said it’s important to choose a trainer wisely.

“If your trainer starts to talk about ‘pack leadership’ and ‘alpha’ and wants to put a shock collar or a prong collar or a choke collar on your dog, just run away,” she said.

Ultimately, having well-trained dogs makes life happier for everyone and keeps dogs out of shelters. And as Victoria Stilwell has shown, training can even be fun.

“The future is positive.”

For more information or to find a Victoria Stilwell Positively Dog Trainer in your area, visit www.positively.com/trainers.

All photos courtesy of Victoria Stilwell Enterprises LLC 

Riley held his chin up and looked away in objection. He knew what was happening—we were getting a new puppy. For five years he was our only dog, and my husband, John, and I had spoiled him a little. OK, maybe a lot. We’d resisted getting a second dog but ultimately decided Riley needed a pal. Besides, cute little Kona seemed perfect—calm, well-behaved and super sweet. Surely Riley would come to love her.

But Kona tricked us! Oh, she was sweet, alright. But she was also a little monster. An alien, almost. Her entrance to our home was like the scene from Lilo and Stitch where Stitch destroys Lilo’s house. Kona wasted no time, jumping from one piece of furniture to the next, tearing Riley’s toys apart and soiling the carpet. Then she brought out her bark—amazing, high-pitched and non-stop.

Riley opted to retire to the basement that night.

For months, Kona’s sweet brown eyes looked to Riley for approval, but Riley was cold. He sulked and avoided Kona at all costs. That meant planning separate training sessions and separate activities for them in separate rooms of the house.

Then one evening I’ll never forget, I let the dogs out before bed. Riley barked at Kona and nipped the back of her legs. Kona looked shocked and took off into the woods with Riley in hot pursuit.

“Oh, no,” I thought. “He’s chasing her away!” Was Riley ever going to accept Kona?

But when they returned minutes later, their tongues were long and their grins were wide. What happened in the woods that evening, I’ll never know. But it happened again the next night. And the night after that.

Riley and Kona had started a ritual. Riley was softening.

Before long, though, there was a new problem. Kona howled and cried when I took Riley paddling. Riley barked wildly when he saw me grab my shoes to get ready for a run with Kona. They were boycotting their separate activities, and so we’ve been a pack of three ever since.

Over the years, I’ve watched the love between Riley and Kona grow. When Riley sees me getting Kona ready for a loop around the block, he hops off the couch, ready to join us, nub wagging. When Kona gets amped over a squirrel in the yard, Riley has her back. Matter of fact, Riley never chased squirrels before Kona came into his life. Her energy is keeping him young and active.

They chase and play every day now, and I love seeing them snuggle together in the back of the Subaru after long hikes. We ride on my paddleboard as a trio and share the couch at the end of the day. And all is well.

Sometimes it isn’t love at first sight. Sometimes it’s love at first chase.

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Maria Christina Schultz is the author of “How to SUP With Your Pup.”  

I met Fletch in a dirt driveway in Moab where we were both living at the time: me in the back of a truck, Fletch in a small camper trailer with her current human, Scott. The driveway belonged to my best friend Lisa, a desert climber with a tendency to foster strays of all species. Scott was the brother of Lisa’s ex who stuck around after the ex took off. Scott was a handy guy to have around the house and the driveway—he supported his passion for travel through construction and electrical work. He had once declared over a beer that if he ever got a dog, he’d name it after those Chevy Chase movies, so that’s how Betty M Fletcher got her name.  

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About a year previous, a climber traveling to Moab picked up a starving Betty M from the Navajo reservation, and that’s how she ended up in Lisa’s driveway and then in Scott’s trailer. He raised her with love and significantly more discipline than most Moab dogs saw, and he vowed she would never be on a leash. I worked nights as a waitress and climbed and ran in the desert during the day, and tried to figure out if I should go back to law school the rest of the time. At first I didn’t notice Fletch much because she was so quiet and self-sufficient—most dogs I knew seemed to spend all their time running around the crags kicking up dust, barking, stepping on ropes and stealing lunches.

Fletch was a beautiful little cattle dog mix—white, brown and black—with a thick ruff of white fur and loose skin around her neck that you could gather up with two hands into a big ball.  She was independent, dignified, and smart as a whip, and often dismissed dogs twice her size with a single, lofty growl. Fletch was known around the driveway as the “poster child for dogs,” because even people who claimed to dislike dogs offered to take her anytime Scott talked about wanting to travel somewhere out of the country. Gradually Fletch started spending her days out in the desert with me instead of at Scott’s jobsite, and when he set off for a work trip to New Zealand via Antarctica without a return date, she moved into the truck with me. The life of a traveling climber can be lonely, but Fletch and I shared hundreds, probably thousands, of miles of highway and trail. We grew up together.

When Fletch was only 11, her back legs became unsteady. The vet diagnosed her with spinal arthritis, and within the year I needed to carry her or pull her in a wagon to the crags where I would settle her on blankets while I climbed. After a while, she needed a diaper at night because the arthritis also made her a little incontinent in her sleep, and it was cleaner that way.

My husband Mario constructed carpet-covered ramps around the house and converted an old baby jogger into a cart for her back legs to see if that would make walking better for her. It didn’t help, so he carried her in his backpack to take her on hikes.

Fletch had become uncharacteristically affectionate and wanted to be together all the time, which both broke and filled my heart. Fletch was so stoic physically, it had always been impossible to tell if anything hurt her.  She still wanted to eat and she still wanted to be together. I thought she was still happy, which was what really mattered.

But one morning, I knew she was going. I spent the day crying and cuddling with her, and then the night lying beside her bed on the floor, listening as she breathed until she stopped. When day came, Mario helped me carry her little body to the vet’s office, and he held me up as we staggered out without her.

For well over a year, I couldn’t even imagine the idea of having another dog. I didn’t want another dog. I wanted Fletch, so much it hurt. But over time I had to admit that not having a dog sucked.

One day a small and very strange looking puppy ended up in my driveway. She had been picked up off the Navajo reservation—starving and miles from anywhere—by a guy working on electrical poles. I had four requirements for any potential future dog I might ever have: must be female, must be a res dog, must have pointy ears like Fletch, and ABSOLUTELY no puppies. This creature in my driveway was possibly 3 months old. She was a bedraggled black, grey and brown. Her ears flopped. She looked like a tiny hyena having a bad hair day.

Cajun ate frantically for a month until one day she was full and had no further interest in food. An odor of cow manure emanated from her for weeks despite frequent bathing—we could only assume she’d been eating cow pies to survive. Cajun was nothing like Fletch, in all the worst ways. She was rambunctious, ungrateful, rebellious and chewed on us ceaselessly. I didn’t know much about puppies, but Cajun seemed to be the archetype of all things awful about puppies, without any of the good things. I wondered if we could take her back to the res and swap her for a more appreciative critter. Mario was perhaps the most kind and patient person on the planet, and yet there were moments when he seemed to be at his wits’ end in how to manage this whirling dervish of a dog. But despite all of her awful qualities, Cajun was Mario’s first dog, and he fell desperately and hopelessly in love with her.

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Every night when I went to bed, I fantasized that an angel would come down from heaven and offer to let me trade Cajun and get Fletcher back.

When Cajun was about a year-and-a-half old, I realized one day with a start that I kind of liked her. And she was getting cuter. After two years, I had fallen completely in love with this leaping, prancing, exuberant creature, who could sprint like a cheetah and climb like a goat.

I remembered my angel fantasy with horror, almost sick at the thought of being asked to choose between my dogs. Fletch was my sensei. Cajun was my wild child. For the first time, I understood that I loved Cajun with all my heart and I also loved Fletch with all my heart, and love doesn’t have math. I realized that love is not “or;” love is “and.”

A year later, Mario died in Italy as we flew our wingsuits from the top of a mountain. I was in front and Mario left the cliff behind me. When I landed, he wasn’t there. Since the day we’d met, I’d never even imagined a life without Mario, though occasionally I worried we might not get to share our 90s together since he was 7 years older. Through the first black weeks and months of grief, Cajun and I huddled together at night in a bed that was too big and tried to understand this new, empty version of life. At first it didn’t seem worth it to me. We kept going, and slowly I found it was.

When I fell in love again, with Ian, I didn’t question it or second guess, though I’d been warned by many that I would. I didn’t struggle with fear or sadness or doubt, thoughts of how life ends and begins, of how to fit together the past and the future, because Fletcher and Cajun taught me something about love. Love is the one thing that has a beginning but not an end, that makes more space the more it grows. It’s the one thing that lasts forever.

Steph Davis is an adventurer, climber, base jumper, wingsuit flyer, and story teller. Follow more of her adventures on Instagram. 

If you’re looking for a fun new way to get outside and have an adventure with your dog, you might want to check out skijoring (if you’re into snow sports) or bikejoring (if you’re a cyclist). In these two “mushing” sports, you and your dog are connected by a tether so that your dog can help pull you to beautiful places. It’s a great way to cover a lot of terrain, obey local leash laws, and learn to work together. The best part is, virtually any healthy dog that weighs at least 30 pounds can try it.

Canadian mushing enthusiast Kevin Roberts has been skiing since he could walk, and he also loves dogs, so skijoring was a natural fit. He started about 20 years ago with his dog Old School, a shepherd/collie cross. “I was hooked right away,” Roberts said. “Once you get into it, you’re tapping something primal.”

Roberts started skijoring competitively and placed second twice at the world’s largest skijoring race at the City of Lakes Loppet Ski Festival in Minnesota. He also started teaching skijoring lessons, leading workshops, blogging and selling mushing gear through his company, Oxford Dogs. Today, he enjoys skijoring with his dogs River, a border collie mix; Belle, a cattle dog/Lab mix; and Burger, a German shepherd mix.

In addition, Roberts has become passionate about sharing advice for getting started in the wonderful world of skijoring. “It’s a steep learning curve,” he said. “I’m still learning every time I go out, and the gear has changed so much — there’s been so much innovation. Everything has come so far.”

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Tips for Choosing Skijoring Gear for Dogs–

So what gear does a novice need to get started to skijor with their dog? Here are tips from Roberts:

• Mushing harness. Harness manufacturers or distributors should have a guide on their website as to how their particular harness fits. It’s important that the harness is not too big or too small in order to keep from injuring your dog. “A properly fitted harness sits so there’s enough room to not block the windpipe. It also fits just above the shoulders so the dogs still have motion to move up there — I liken it to hefting a backpack on.”
• Gangline. When skijoring, you’re attached to your dog by a gangline, a rope with an internal bungee. Roberts recommends a gangline with brass snaps to attach to the dog’s harness because any other type of metal will freeze in temperatures that are minus 40 degrees. (When I quipped to Roberts that if it’s minus 40 outside, you’re probably not going to go outside, he begged to differ. Apparently lots of people skijor in Winnipeg in minus 40 degrees because otherwise, they wouldn’t get to go out as often. Hardcore!) He also suggests a bungee that is tied into the line, not sewn in, to prevent tears.
• Skijoring belt. This is the belt you’ll fasten around your waist or hips, depending on your preference. Some have leg straps — another matter of preference. “A waist belt needs to be thick enough to not put any pressure on your back and strong enough to support the pull of the dog,” Roberts advised.
• Clip. There should always be a clip or other device connecting the gangline to your belt so that you can disconnect from your dog quickly in case you fall (or in case your dog decides to run through your legs before you’re moving).
• Helmet and ski gear. Roberts suggests a snowboarding helmet because it covers and protects the back of your skull. He also recommends a decent pair of ski boots and cross-country skis. Slightly longer ski poles will give you more leverage to push with your arms.

Once you’ve mastered skijoring — and you and your dog are addicted to the thrill of the sport — you can try bikejoring. Roberts offered insight that with a bike, you’re up a lot higher and have a lot faster speed. So, while bikejoring is great, it’s not where you should be starting. The mushing gear for bikejoring is the same; just make sure to attach the gangline to the stem of the bike — never the handlebars.

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Skijoring and Bikejoring Safety and Etiquette Tips

So where should you try these sports? Roberts offered these safety tips and etiquette pointers:

• Don’t skijor on trails groomed for cross-country skiing. “Look for a place that’s flat, wide-groomed and a multi-use trail.”
• Never run a dog on pavement when bikejoring. It can tear off their paw pads, cause them to overheat, and damage their joints over time. “Look for a nice dirt trail in the woods. They’ll love it!”
• Get your dog used to the harness in the backyard. Before strapping into skis, practice together in the backyard while you’re on foot.
• Find a mentor, take lessons, or read a book like Skijor With Your Dog. “There’s so much to learn.”

Roberts said that the effort to learn about skijoring and bikejoring will definitely be worth it because of the excitement of the sports and the way they strengthen your bond with your dog. “You are tethered and literally working as a team,” he said. “The endorphins will be flying as you tackle a hill or fly across the terrain — you will be bonded.”

Photos courtesy of Kevin Roberts 

Getting a new puppy is a fun, exciting, entertaining and sometimes exhausting event. Once you bring home your new furry family member, you might be left with the “what now?” feeling. If there’s one thing I’ve learned with puppy training, it’s to have a plan and stick with it. Here are some tips for finding success training your new pup.

Make a list of training and behavior goals; it doesn’t matter if these are goals for tomorrow or for the next two years. Usually for puppies, the immediate goals are housebreaking, crate training, and starting general manners. Then, you can start to think about your goals for him as an adult dog. Do you want your dog to walk nicely on a leash or travel downtown with you for coffee and shopping? No matter what the goals are, it’s always best to start early with training so that your puppy knows what’s expected of him.

To truly find success with your puppy and be effective in your training efforts, you want to be a trainer, not a tester. Being a tester means taking the “let’s just see how it goes approach,” which leaves too much room for failure. It’s all too often that we hear about a puppy performing well in the classroom or at home, but when the skill is taken out of the home, there is no success. This is because it’s harder for puppies to focus and work in a novel environment. They also don’t generalize lessons well, so we need to help them along with this process. I refer to the world outside of the classroom or home as ‘Doggy Disneyland.’ It’s full of new sights, sounds and smells, all of which are exciting and distracting. Part of finding success in these new environments is to ease into them and not just throw your puppy in head first with unrealistic expectations.  

Here are some tips to help find success when you start expanding your puppy’s training world:

1. Ease into new environments. A good way to see if your puppy can work with new distractions is to take your in-home training to simple places, like your yard or porch. Let them learn to work outside the house and engage with you. Keep these sessions short and fun, with lots of high-value reinforcements. It’s always good to have your dog work for you right out of the house, as this gets him focusing right away.
2. Apply at-home lessons in public. When you’re ready to expand to more public places, be sure to engage your puppy in work right away. This can mean that right when you get out of the car you ask him to sit or do focus work. Keep in mind that as you raise the difficulty level of training, you may need to raise the reinforcement value as well.
3. Let him explore. When you’re training in a new place, let your puppy check things out for a little bit and then re-engage him in work. You want him to be able to check things out and then ignore those things when you ask him.
4. Keep your training in new places simple to start. If you take your puppy downtown for the first time and expect him to walk perfectly on leash the whole time, you’ll find yourself frustrated within minutes. A good way to start is to let him check things out for a little bit and then do some training that doesn’t involve a lot of movement, like a down-stay or sit-stay. By not moving a lot, you lower the risk of your puppy wanting to check everything out and increase the odds of him focusing and working for you.

Training at an appropriate pace will give you and your puppy the best chance for success. In addition, successful training will keep your puppy from developing bad habits, in turn making your life together much more fun and enjoyable.

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Looking for a great movie to watch while snuggling with your dog on the couch? If so, check out “Dogs on the Inside.” It’s an inspiring documentary about prison inmates who train homeless dogs for adoption.

“It comes down to believing in second chances and just believing in people and animals,” said Doug Seirup, co-director of “Dogs on the Inside” and co-founder of Expect Miracles Productions.

The central focus of the film is on inmates at a Massachusetts prison who train dogs for a nonprofit animal rescue group, Don’t Throw Us Away. Michelle Riccio founded the group because there are not enough foster homes for all the dogs that need them. She saw an opportunity in prisons, and found by bringing strays to live with and be trained by prison inmates twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, fearful dogs can learn to trust and love again. Meanwhile, the inmates not only learn dog-training skills, but develop responsibility and empathy – a total win/win.

“Dogs on the Inside” starts with Riccio and her team arriving at North Central Correctional Institution in Gardner, Mass. with a mixed breed dog named Sammy. The pooch sprints joyfully to an inmate named Candido, who drops to the ground to rub the dog’s belly while exclaiming, “You’re beautiful! You’re beautiful!” We then learn in an interview with Candido that Sammy wouldn’t come out of his kennel when he first came to the prison for training, but has since blossomed into a happy, confident dog thanks to the program.

“I think in a sense he forgot his past. He’s a dog that has gone through so much and has changed drastically,” Candido says. “And I know by seeing that, through Sam, nothing’s impossible. Nothing is impossible.”

It’s one of many stirring moments in the film.

In addition to filming at the prison, Seirup and co-director Brean Cunningham traveled to Mississippi to show volunteers attempting to rescue stray dogs from dire situations. The film introduces us to Cole Bowen, a transporter who drives a truck 2,400-miles twice a week to deliver more than 100 rescued dogs to groups like Don’t Throw Us Away and Forever Home Rescue New England. His efforts have helped rehome over 10,000 dogs in the last five years.

“We wanted to tell the story of what it takes to actually rescue a dog, to bring it full circle,” Seirup said. “The sense of teamwork really just breaks down walls.”

Seirup said filming “Dogs on the Inside” was an emotional experience. Before filming at the prison, he and Cunningham went to the prison to meet the soon-to-be dog trainers without the pressure of cameras. They were told by corrections officers that it is a federal offense to hand anything to inmates, so they would not be allowed to shake hands.

Naturally, the first thing the inmates did was extend their hands to the filmmakers. “Without even thinking, we just shook their hands. It was a fun moment,” Seirup said. “From the start of that handshake, it just established a level of trust: they didn’t mind us being there, and we felt very comfortable being there. As ironic as it was, we had never felt safer. The guys were really warm.”

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And it was clear the inmates loved the dogs. Over the course of the film, we watch inmates not only train the dogs but cuddle them, coo baby talk, grin at them playing together in the yard and even cook special meals for their pups. Thanks to their care, the dogs find forever homes as the movie draws to a close. And we learn Candido, who at one point cries as he tells us he can relate to dogs who have been “left behind,” has been granted parole.

“My lifestyle got me here and I want to change it so I never come back here again,” he says as he pets his dog, who is about to head to a new forever home. “On to bigger and better things – like you. On to better things.”

Seirup has stayed in touch with Candido since his release from prison, and said he has a good job in construction – and a dog, of course.

“He’s doing great. He’s walking the talk, if you will,” Seirup said. “People should believe in these programs because they are working. Recidivism rates drop to 50 percent as a result of prison dog training programs like the one featured in the film. I’m not saying all the inmates are perfect, but like the film points out, there are some decent inmates in there and we can’t just write them off from society.”

The same goes for dogs. Seirup said there are lots of ways dog lovers can help homeless animals, from adopting pets to volunteering or donating dog food to local shelters.

“I hope viewers take away that they can believe in second chances in both humans and animals, and that one person can make a difference.”

For more information about “Dogs on the Inside,” visit: www.dogsontheinside.com.To view a trailer, click here. For more information about Forever Home Rescue New England: www.foreverhomerescue.org. 

The desert is beautiful, in part, due to the harshness of the landscape. It’s a stunning, barren, wind-scoured world where life has made incredible adaptations to even exist. Vegetation is sparse. Water is scarce. Shade can be elusive. Many of the prominent features are the result of millennia of ceaseless erosion, the earth itself slowly succumbing to the besieging elements. Because of this, not in spite of it, the desert of southeast Utah offers some of the most enchanting hiking destinations in the world.

Harsh, also, is finding quality trails to enjoy with your four-legged companion. Large swaths of land are protected as national monuments, state parks and, of course, the two world-renowned gems: Arches National Park and Canyonlands National Park. Dogs simply aren’t allowed on many of the most famous trails, even on a leash. This isn’t without good reason, as it’s meant to protect wildlife, ancient historic sites and delicate rock formations. Other routes are simply inaccessible to most dogs, such as difficult slot canyons or exposed summits. Finally, there are trails so heavily frequented by mountain bikes and off-road vehicles that a poor pooch would have to spend most of his time dodging fast-moving objects.

Scattered among these, however, are a wealth of awe-inspiring hikes that are accessible, safe and exciting for you and your pup. Here are a few of my favorites from several years exploring the high desert around Moab.

If you’re attempting any of these hikes, go prepared for the severity of the desert environment. Plan your excursions in the morning or evening to avoid the afternoon heat. Better yet, visit in the mellower seasons of fall, winter or spring. Carry plenty of water for both you and your dog. Keep your companion on a leash or trained to stay near you to avoid encounters with dangerous wildlife, including rattlesnakes, and research beforehand the nearest animal hospital. Avoid canyons or other low-lying areas in storms.

Mary Jane Canyon

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This is perhaps the ultimate dog-friendly trail in the Moab area because it’s lightly trafficked and follows a stream the entire way. In fact, much of the trail lies in the creek itself. Wear footwear suitable for water. If your dog loves liquid and you don’t mind jaw-dropping scenery, this hike’s for you.

The trail for Mary Jane Canyon starts in the southeast corner of the parking lot. If you drove straight in and parked without turning around, that’ll put it on the extreme left side, dropping steeply down toward the creek. Don’t take the trail starting at the obvious trailhead sign, which gains elevation up to a scenic pass. Once you’re on it, though, the trail is easy to follow. You’re basically walking beside or in Professor Creek the entire way.

The first mile is flat and open. Castleton Tower and The Priest and Nuns rock formation will dominate your gaze. Eventually you’ll drop into a small canyon, which steadily narrows until it becomes a true slot. Be sure to explore some of the thin side canyons along the way. In some areas, the walls are more than 100 feet tall with a canyon width of only a couple feet. Your destination is approximately 4.5 miles in as the trail ends at an impassable double waterfall with a wading pool at its base. Take some time to splash around, then reverse your route back to the car.

Visit www.alltrails.com for directions and additional details on Mary Jane Canyon. 

Fisher Towers

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These stunning red rock formations are some of the most wondrous in the entire world. The highest, called The Titan, is said to be the largest free-standing natural pillar on Earth. The trail itself brings you up close and personal with many of the pinnacles, descending to their base and ascending to stunning viewpoints. Note how crumbly and insecure the towers appears, and marvel even more at the bravery of the rock climbers you’re likely to encounter.

The route is steep in parts, and the constant shade holds ice and mud. Some sections are mildly exposed. The full trail meanders for about 2.6 miles one-way, but many folks stop after 1.5 miles at the base of The Titan. Hike as far as your heart desires, then retrace your steps to the trailhead.

For more information about Fisher Towers, go to www.alltrails.com. 

Grandstaff Trail

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This popular and high-trafficked route was known by a less politically correct name until 2017. The trailhead sits off paved Highway 128, adjacent to the Colorado River just a few miles north of downtown Moab. Due to the crowds and the prevalence of poison ivy along the trail, a leash is recommended.

Despite the heavy use, the path criss-crosses a creek and can be difficult to follow in sections. If you lose it, just take a few steps back and resurvey your surroundings. You’ll either see the trail, or more likely, other hikers. The stream is a great water source for hot and thirsty dogs along almost the entire length.

The destination is Morning Glory Arch, the fifth-largest natural arch in the world. It’s only about 2 miles from the trailhead, bringing high value to this short outing. It’s easy to see why it’s so popular.

Additional details about Grandstaff Trail are available at www.alltrails.com. 

Corona Arch

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If the Grandstaff Trail offers a grand payoff for limited effort, Corona Arch takes that concept and doubles down. It’s only about 2.5-miles roundtrip and brings visitors directly to the base of two of Moab’s most fascinating arches.

The trail is its steepest right out of the gate, climbing from the trailhead up to a scenic railroad crossing. From there, the route is marked with green paint and cairns. As you round the corner and get your first views of Bowtie Arch and Corona Arch, you’ll encounter a section that may be tricky for some dogs. The human route goes up steep slickrock with a wire handrail, followed by a wooden ladder. I’ve seen smaller dogs simply carried or handed up. In the two times we’ve been there, my Border Collie simply went around on the rock to hiker’s left of the ladder without issue.

The rest of the hike to the arch is on a wide, flat, mildly exposed ledge. You’ll find yourself first beneath Bowtie Arch, which is basically a giant hole in the canyon wall above you. The highlight of the hike, however, is Corona Arch. It’s one of the more striking visual sights in Utah. (That’s saying something.) After you get done taking a couple thousand pictures, return from whence you came. 

 Jeep Arch

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Think of this one as a slightly more adventurous Corona Arch. Though the trailhead is only a quarter-mile from the starting point for its more famous neighbor, Jeep Arch gets a fraction of the traffic. It’s still only a short 4 miles roundtrip, with an equally satisfying payoff. Corona Arch and Jeep Arch can easily be paired together in one moderate day.

The trail begins by going through a tunnel beneath the railroad, which in itself is a fun experience. Take a left past a sign for Jeep Arch, climb up a small hill, then turn into Culvert Canyon. The route is well marked with cairns.

Eventually you’ll come to a fork. You can go either way — it’s a loop that passes through the arch. I opted to stay left, which climbs a steep section that will require some use of your hands to the base of an impressive rock tower. Follow the trail across another flat section of desert dust, and the arch will make its first appearance. It will look initially inaccessible, but the trail winds around on a ledge system and easily passes through the center. Finish the loop to return to the car.

Additional information about Jeep Arch can be found at www.alltrails.com

NOTE: The final two hikes listed below are about 90 minutes south of Moab, near the town of Blanding, Utah. This is the area known as Cedar Mesa, which contains parts of Bears Ears National Monument. Both routes in this article used to be a part of Bears Ears, but Lower Fish Canyon now falls outside the boundaries.

The biggest draw for these areas are historic Ancestral Puebloan ruins and rock art that’s more than 700 years old, preserved shockingly well thanks to the dry desert climate. Some of these sites are incredibly fragile. Please educate yourself on the proper etiquette before visiting. Leave no trace. Don’t remove anything or enter the buildings. Dogs should be secured and kept away from ruins. 

Upper Fish Canyon 

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Upper Fish Canyon is a seldom visited hike in a seldom visited area. For those looking for a little solitude, this one’s right up your alley. The best ruins are all within the first two miles of the canyon, making for a quick and easy outing. Getting here requires going to the middle of nowhere and then driving 9 miles on a dirt road, however, so you might as well make a day of it and do the full 9-mile roundtrip.

Start on an open desert trail that eventually drops into a very wide and shallow canyon after about a mile. All of the ruins will be on hiker’s right, to the north. The first is at 1.3 miles, but the most exciting is a long structure with four windows and stunning rock art about a half-mile farther. The high bench housing of this impressive site is a scenic place for lunch. For those continuing on, the trail becomes more difficult to follow on the way to four more historic ruins. Keep your eyes peeled.

For directions and additional details, visit hikingwalking.com. 

South Fork Mule Canyon

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This hike is most known for a wonderful site called the House on Fire Ruin, named for how the roof of the alcove glows orange when hit with the right lighting. It’s only about 1 mile from the parking area on a good trail. Many people make that their sole destination for a brisk one-hour jaunt. While House on Fire is certainly the highlight of this hike, there are several more ruins farther down the canyon worth visiting as well as an impressive rock formation known as the Angel’s Wings.

From the small side-of-the-road parking area, drop down past a trailhead kiosk and follow the easy path to House on Fire Ruin, which sits just off the trail. Explore to your heart’s content. Once you’re ready to move on, continue hiking into the canyon and keep your eyes up and right. There are ruins roughly every half-mile or so. Some are accessible, some are not. The trail becomes increasingly difficult to follow — not many people go this far — and at one point detours around an otherwise impassable pourover.

You should find yourself in a wide wash after about 3.5 miles, with ruins high on the northern wall and a towering rock formation called Angel’s Wings. (You’ll know why when you see it.) This is my suggested turnaround point, though it is possible to continue on and even form a loop hike with Mule Canyon’s North Fork.

For more information about South Fork Mule Canyon, visit www.alltrails.com. 

It’s more than just a belief—getting outside with our dogs is a way of life for us at Zuke’s. Before Patrick created what Zuke’s is today, he practiced the same path through life. He knew that being outside, hiking, biking, walking, exploring with his dog was far more important than anything else.

On “Black Friday,” we are celebrating the important things. We are taking our furry friends outside, where we all belong. We will be leaping over streams, rolling in the snow, chasing squirrels and soaking up the sun, because every day we should #OptOutside. The shared moments outside, experiencing adventures big and small are what we will be celebrating on Black Friday. We will recognize how important our dogs are in our lives, how they remind us the importance of love and adventure. They are often times the catalyst to getting us out exploring the world around us and this Black Friday we will celebrate that relationship by going outdoors with our dogs.

Thank you to REI for their commitment to the outdoors and reminding us through the #OptOutside movement what is really important in life. Head over to their website where they have an easy way to find dog-friendly activities for you and your pup to share.