Friends ask how we keep track of our dog Libby while hiking because the forest renders her shaggy, brown fur nearly invisible. Just after her ninth birthday, she had surgery to remove an intestinal tumor only days from killing her. While she recovered, we slept on the floor by her doggie bed, keeping close watch. The vet predicted she’d live a year--three happy years ago. In the woods, our miracle dog gets whatever distance she needs. When she wanders, we close our eyes and listen for her paws stirring the leaves. So far, she always comes back to us.