Is She a Puppy?

So I took Annie skiing yesterday for the first time. We drove up to Flatiron Mountain. I planned on just doing some touring, but when I got there, I met Wendy, a twenty-something snowboarder who lives in Troy and works on the fire crew in the summer. She was trying out some new gear. I introduced myself and decided since there was another humanoid, I might was well hike to the top with her and get a few turns in. I was really curious how Annie would do more than anything. Here's how it went:

• Annie got out of the car and took a huge dump
• She sniffed around and had a good pee
• Lots of running around the trees and brush while I'm gearing up
• Some frantic snow digging and rolling
  
• To the trailhead: in her usual fashion, she hunts. Runs up and back along the logging road that makes for a good up-track for a start to the hike. This is followed by zigging and zagging on and off the trail, but she's always good about checking back in. Bottom line: she's kicking my ass while I'm sucking air.
• She starts slowing down to a trot at the base of the mountain: staying on the trail more than not, but still breaking her own trail when she pleases.
• Half way up the mountain she's now walking occasionally, sometimes at my pace or right behind me.
• Top of the mountain: she's now at my pace: I'm kicking her ass until....
• Smells a bird or squirrel or other living creature she thinks she can kill
• Takes off at a sprint out of site down the other side of the mountain after the creature at which point Wendy asks, "Is she a puppy?"
• I mess with my skins and call to her with the:
  

1. 'loving' tactic: "Aaaannieee, here! This way, come on, let's go baby."
2. 'firm' tactic: "ANNIE, here. Yip! Let's go!"
3. 'desperate' tactic (teeth clenched and cursing): "ANNIE, RIGHT NOW. GET OVER HERE. ANNIE. NO! HERE!"
   

• None of these tactics work on my well-trained-pure-bred-bird-killing-6-year-old-German-short-brained-puppy, so I drop over the other side of the mountain hoping I don't have to ski down it after her. After some wrangling, I get her on the leash (taking Uncle Leo's advice of the 7 P's, I so wisely threw the leash in my pack) and drag her back to the right side of the mountain.
• Wedge down 20 yards with her still tied to me so she doesn't go back over the other side again.
• Annie, a bit confused as to what comes next looks at me with ears perked.
• "Okay, lets go!" I say as I take her off the leash and make some turns.
• I hear subtle whimpers behind me, stop, turn around, and there she is: on my tails, literally.
• She kept up with me the whole way down the mountain, I couldn't believe it. Every time I stopped and turned around, she was right there staring at me, face and chest covered in ice and snow.
• More whimpering/chirping (anyone who really knows Annie knows her chirp!) with increasing intensity the faster I go, but she's still keeping up.
• Once on the logging road/trail: I don't try to go slow for her. She again, is at her sprinting pace with high-intensity chirping even though I know at this point she's tired and would rather walk, or better yet, sleep! It's so funny to look back and see snow shooting up from my skis into her pathetic adorable little face.
• Back at the car: she's on her bed licking her paws before the hatch was all the way opened!
• 2pm-7am this morning: sleeping, farting.

I think we'll do it again!