Mr. Morris scares the crap out of me

In the interest of not struggling through my 'point' trail with friends on a night hike, I set out yesterday with my machete and some trail tacks that are simply tacks with a reflective coating on their heads.

Mr. Morris was nagging me and it was about time for his new routine of the 3pm walk. I grabbed a leash and decided to see if he'd come along.
Indeed he did.
The cold air didn't seem to bother him a bit. He ran around the meadow, sniffing everything he could. I'd have to call and wave to him so he could catch up. He bounded past me and down an old mule trail avoiding the long grasses.

The meadow can be pretty even in its winter doldrums.

The Mr. Morris sure enjoyed it.

He hesitated when I dove into the woods on the old cow path that is mostly used by deer now. In places trees have come down and multi flora rose bushes have grown up.

Over the years the deer and I adjust to different obstacles to get up and down the steep hillside. Last winter the first time I used this 'trail' at night to bring along my hiking buddy, I got sidetracked. There wasn't enough snow to show a good trail and everything looked similar in the headlamp.

Where the trail went straight, it now zagged around a nasty deadfall.  So I marked the tree with a little tack and used the machete to clear the debris above my head. I normally just duck while going through, but I know that one of the hikers that will go with me later this month is much taller than I am.
Mr. Morris stopped and then backed away. I stopped what I was doing and explained to him what was going on.

He was not impressed, but he gave me a glance and walked past me. He eyed the machete.

I marked the next tree where the path made a 90 degree turn. I freshened the small marks I'd made a couple of years ago.
Morris either walked ahead or followed, stopping to smell things and be just like the normal Morris I've always known.

I stopped marking just above the creek. I could see the Mountain Dew can that hung on a branch further down. I wouldn't mark all the way down to there but set a reflective tack up on a stump so a headlamp would catch it from the Dew Can.

I dropped the box of tacks and bent down to pick them up. I realized that I didn't hear Morris's jingling tags.

I turned around.
He was gone.
I called.
Nothing.
I called louder and heard my voice echo off the valley walls.

Okay. Either Morris wandered off, or decided he'd had enough of hiking. We were actually pretty far from home and it was getting colder down near the creek.
Damn.
"MORRISSSSSS"
Yes, there was a bit of panic in my voice.
I should have leashed him.
Dang it.
I called and called.

Then I stopped. I looked down in the dusting of snow and found some tracks. They were his, but they went in circles and back and forth then off into the leaves on the forest floor.

I stood for a moment.  Did he go home? It would only get colder, so I turned and climbed quickly up the hillside trail. My clearing and marking sure made it much easier, plus my feet had disturbed the leaves and the light dusting of snow.

I got to the meadow. Tall grass. Morris doesn't like tall grass. He'd follow a trail. Those trails had a dusting of snow.
I searched and found his tracks heading towards home. At least I hoped they were. I lost them several times and found them again.

Then they were gone.
However I know that Morris has traveled this way for nearly 14 years and he seemed to know the way home better than I did!

Please Morris. Be home.
Be home so I can be angry with you for causing me this anxiety.

Because if you are not.
I had a headlamp with new batteries in it. I would search and call. I couldn't bear the thought of him being out in 'the wild' on his own. Not with all of the coyotes that hunted at night.
Coyotes. Little dog, nasty coyotes.

I hurried and then ran.

When I walked towards the house Mr. Morris was sitting in the sun behind Rich's truck. He finally noticed me and casually trotted up to me and then walked over to the porch, as if to say.
"My how I had to wait for you! You are so slow! Please let me in so you can feed me."

Did I ever say how punctual he has gotten lately for his feed times??

Morris. He wagged his tail as if our hike was just another successful journey

I was happy. He was happy.
The old dog does know his way home. But he won't be going with me on any hikes again soon.
We will be back to leashes and trails, not wild wood hikes.