You know that feeling when you dream of taking your adventure pup on the ultimate trip? For me and my furry best friend, Max, it was one place: Machu Picchu. I pictured us conquering the trails together, a man and his dog against the Andes. I saved, I planned, I got the pet permits. We were ready.
After a 6,000-mile flight and a paw-tastic journey through the Sacred Valley, we were finally there. The sky was blue, the mountains majestic. Max’s tail was wagging a mile a minute. It was the perfect start to our big adventure.
Or so I thought.
Because what stood between us and that iconic view wasn't just a path. It was the ultimate test for a lowland dog: An endless, steep, ancient Inca staircase.
My first thought? "He's loving this!" My second? The sound of his heavy panting filled my ears. In that moment, as his breath fogged the lens, I realized: This high-altitude hike was a whole different ball game for my four-legged friend. His little canine lungs were working overtime.
But for a glorious second, he was a king! He scrambled onto a rock, chest puffed out, surveying his kingdom. The mountains were his throne. "Behold!", I wanted to shout, "Max, the goodest boy, conqueror of the lost city of the Incas!" He posed like a pro, the wind ruffling his fur. He had never looked more epic.
And then... the altitude hit. The epic conqueror was no more. In his place was a flat, panting, furry pancake. He flopped onto a cool stone, his tongue a permanent fixture on the ground. A gentle stream of drool began to pool. The mighty Inca warrior had been defeated not by an enemy, but by a lack of oxygen. The dramatic flop was real.
But here's the thing: Even in a state of total canine collapse, one word worked its magic: "Treat?" An ear twitched. A single eye opened. His spirit was willing (for snacks), but his body was 100% done. Spiritual energy of the Incas: 100%. Doggy stamina: 0%. 10/10, would still bribe with treats again. The adventure was worth every pant.
How about you? Has your adventure pup ever bitten off more than they could chew? Have they ever dramatically flopped on a hike, only to wag their tail five minutes later?
Drop a 🐾 in the comments if your dog has ever been owned by the altitude!
This trip taught me that the best adventures with your dog aren't about reaching the summit first. They're about the shared moments, the dramatic flops, and the happy, tired wag at the end of the day.
