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February 5, 2026
Let me tell you something that might surprise you.
Before I was a hiker, I was a puppy. A very small, very fluffy puppy who spent most of her time investigating the space under the couch, stealing Kris's socks, and perfecting the art of the dramatic nap. Berlin was my whole world. And honestly? I thought that was enough.
But here's something worth thinking about. Every dog — and I mean every dog, no matter how small, no matter how much they love their couch — is related to a wolf. Yes. Even me. Even your tiny Chihuahua. Even that fluffy Pomeranian at the coffee shop wearing a little raincoat. We are all, at our core, built for the wild. Adventure isn't something we learn. It's something we remember.
The question isn't whether your small dog has that spark. The question is: have you given them a chance to find it?
Masha and Kris started taking me to the forest when I was just a few months old. Not for hiking — not yet. Just short walks in quiet places. But from the very first time my paws touched forest ground instead of city pavement, something shifted.
My nose went into a kind of overdrive I'd never experienced before. Every tree root smelled like a story. Every animal trail felt like a magnet pulling me forward. I could have stayed there forever, just reading the forest floor like the world's most interesting book.
Masha noticed immediately. She told Kris that evening: "She's different out here. Her eyes are completely different."
She was right. Something in me woke up that day that had never fully woken up on a city street.
That's how they knew.
And that's my suggestion to you — don't overthink it. Take your dog somewhere green and quiet. Real trees, real smells, real ground under their paws. Then just watch them.
Does their nose go down immediately? Do their ears perk up at every rustle in the leaves? Do their eyes go bright in a way you don't often see at home?
That's your answer.
The first hike doesn't start at the trailhead. It starts at home.
Get the right harness. A collar isn't enough for a small dog on a trail. You need a harness that fits properly and that your dog absolutely cannot slip out of. Check the fit regularly. A small dog who spots a squirrel is a surprisingly powerful force of nature.
Try a drag leash. A long, lightweight leash that the dog trails behind them as they explore. It gives a sense of freedom while keeping control within reach. It's one of the best tools for building confidence in new environments — and one of the best decisions Masha and Kris made early on.
Work on the basics. I'll be honest — I'm not going to pretend I've mastered every command. I have opinions about commands. But sit, come, stay, and leave it are genuinely important on a trail. Not just useful — sometimes important in ways that really matter. And yes, I'll tell you exactly why in a moment.
Pack simply. Treats, fresh water, a portable bowl. That's enough for a first trip. Don't overthink it.
Choose a short route. Shorter than you think necessary. And please — don't measure success by distance. We're not competing with anyone, and certainly not with the long-legged dogs bounding past us toward the summit. That's not what this is about.
This first walk is about learning to enjoy nature together. And I want to be honest — it's a learning process for both ends of the leash. Your dog is figuring out a new environment. But you're also figuring out your dog. How they move when they're confident versus unsure. When they need encouragement and when they just need a moment to stand still and breathe. That kind of understanding doesn't come from covering distance. It comes from paying attention.
When you arrive, slow down. Let your dog just stand there and take it in. Forest smells nothing like a city — it's layered and rich in ways that a small dog's nose finds genuinely overwhelming at first. Be patient. Give them time.
Encourage them to explore, but keep the leash in your hands. Not tight, not restrictive — just present. You're not limiting their adventure. You're just making sure you're part of it.
And this is where those basic commands come in. Come is not just something you practice at home for fun. On a trail, a reliable recall can make a real difference. I know this because — and I'm not proud of this — there were a few early occasions when a squirrel appeared at exactly the wrong moment, something ancient and unstoppable took over, and I was gone...
No squirrels were harmed. I want to be clear about that.
My humans, however, were a different story. Masha later used the words "heart attack." Kris just sat down on a log and went very quiet, which was somehow worse.
Every bit of training you put in before hitting the trail is worth it. The leash stays in your hands not as a punishment, but because the forest is full of things neither of you has encountered together before. Give yourselves both the safety net while you're still learning.
One more thing, and I say this with care — you will likely meet bigger dogs on the trail. Most will be friendly. Some will just be enthusiastic in a way that feels overwhelming when you're the size of a loaf of bread. Stay aware. Keep your dog close when passing others. Don't hesitate to step in between if things feel tense. Being your dog's safe place on the trail is just as important as picking the right route.
Praise everything. Every brave step. Every confident sniff. Every time they look back at you with that expression that says "Are you seeing this? This place is INCREDIBLE."
Because they will look back at you. And in that moment — a small dog discovering the world and the human who brought them there — you'll know this was exactly the right thing to do.
I was maybe four months old the first time I stood at the edge of a forest path and understood — not with words, but with every part of me — that this was somewhere I was supposed to be. It took time to become the hiker I am today. There were trails that tired me out faster than expected, rocky sections that needed careful navigation, and yes, one memorable afternoon where I sat down firmly in the middle of a path and made it very clear that we had gone far enough for one day.
But that first forest walk planted something in me that never went away.
Your small dog has that same thing somewhere inside them. You just have to give them the chance to find it.
Start small. Go slow. Bring treats.
The rest will follow.
Woof, Leeloo