With the benefit of modern medicine, it can be entertaining to look back on the advice of the doctors of yore for an easy laugh. For example, I went to school with a kid whose grandfather was advised by the family doctor in the 1940s that staring at the sun for 10 minutes per day would help assuage his severe headaches. As an adult, the man still had headaches and matching cataracts to go with them. But not all arcane medical advice was as misguided as the suggestion received by my schoolmate’s grandfather.

Around the turn of the 20th century, it was not uncommon for doctors to prescribe a change of setting for a variety of ailments. People suffering from rheumatism were directed to “spend a few months in the salty air of the seashore.” “Surround yourself with nature for the summer” is an example of a doctor’s direction to a person suffering from “nerves.” Unlike staring at the sun to cure a headache, there is documented evidence that people who followed the advice to get outdoors actually experienced some relief from their respective ailments. Whether or not the relocation to pastoral settings was directly linked to the increased wellness of suffering patients is certainly debatable. But it does not defy basic logic like many snake oil remedies of the olden days.

Enter Lola, an aging 15-pound mix between a Dachshund and Jack Russel terrier, or at least that was the best guess of the kind people at the Humane Society, who found her in a cardboard box with the rest of her newly born siblings outside of a fast food restaurant in the DC area. Lola came to live with Britt as soon as Lola was old enough to eat solid food. Lola had been a city dog for the majority of her life. At the age of 11, several years after I had joined Britt as one of Lola’s human companions, the three of us were residing in NYC when Lola suffered a self-inflicted back injury. The vet told us this type of injury was not uncommon for long dogs with short legs. They also told us that she may not recover since she was already of a pretty advanced age and was not eating or even really getting out of her bed for several days. Luckily, Lola did eventually recover from her injury.

Britt and I took some additional measures for post-injury Lola in an attempt to prevent a relapse. While Lola was mostly herself again, this event marked a sort of gradual decline for her. Her walks were never as long. She started to have some accidents in the house. She developed what was described by the vet as “doggie dementia,” which affected her sleep as well as her general behavior. Lola started some medication for her dementia as well as some for her heart disease. Britt and I spoke often of our concern that Lola would most likely not last much longer. Winter was especially tough for her.

As we were beginning to ease into the spring of 2020, a pandemic very suddenly changed almost everything. Our household of three found ourselves camped out in a very serene setting with rustic yet comparatively sizable accommodations. While the weather continued to warm, and the rhododendrons began to bloom, Lola appeared to begin a second bloom of her own.

It started with small things, like a renewed interest in playing with her toys. In her younger years, she would play with a tennis ball until the fuzz was worn smooth (or would tear it right off of the cheap ones). Not so much after the back injury. But here she was again, having wild zoomies around the house any time I would reach for the little bin where her toys were kept.

Another discovery that we made was that Lola was obsessed with hiking. We started on relatively short hikes, assuming that Lola would not be able to make it more than a mile or so (if that). This was a massive underestimation on the part of Britt and I. Our little quadruped must have been some sort of scout or sherpa in her prior life, because Lola on the trail was a dog on a mission! She was pulling at the leash again like she did in her younger years. She learned the word “hike” after only a few outings. By the end of the summer, if she saw the backpacks or an orange hat come out, she would run around the mudroom throwing shoes into the air with excitement. Lola loved hiking so much that occasionally when it was raining and we couldn’t get her to go outside for a bathroom walk, we would tell her we were going for a hike, and she would immediately jump out of bed.

In addition to hiking, Lola could keep herself busy just wandering around the yard sniffing while Britt and I worked on the landscaping or outside of the house. On sunny days, she would often sunbathe from the moment that the sun hit our front deck, around 10 AM until it was her dinner time.

Lola was never great around other dogs. But she became very good friends with our neighbor dog, who she met as a puppy (on a hike, naturally). Whenever they saw each other, she would give him some kisses on the nose (instead of trying to bite him in the face like she did with most other dogs). A few times when the neighbor dog escaped, he would run through the woods to our house and come canoodle with Lola through our siding door. Lola, of course, loved every minute of it.

Even the cold winters of the Catskills did not seem to bother Lola as much as her last couple of winters in the city. She enjoyed playing in the freshly fallen snow (as long as it wasn’t too deep). She licked snowballs. She went as far as to try out sledding and seemed to enjoy it.

Lola continued in her youthful-again ways more or less for the next three years. We noticed over the past year or so that, while her lust for hiking remained constant, her ability to put in the mileage was waning. She began to frequently finish hikes riding in my backpack with her head looking over my shoulder. This past spring, we even had to make her regular walks a little shorter because it was apparent that her aged little joints were giving her some trouble.

On August 14th of this year, Britt and I said goodbye to our little Lola. She was a city dog who had turned into a nature lover. No doubt Lola’s medicine helped extend her life after her back injury and subsequent medical diagnoses. But I’m also convinced that Lola’s change of scenery to the Catskills and her ensuing discovery of new passions along with the happiness they brought her was a driving force behind her renewed youthful energy. It was very hard for Britt and I to let her go. But we both take a lot of comfort knowing that she lived out her final years in a place where she truly found the most joy in her nearly 16 years of life.

If Lola’s experience is any evidence, perhaps those old-timey doctors knew more than we give them credit for. Perhaps spending some time in nature can cure what ails you.

Growing up in the Rocky Mountains, Jake Breinholt has been an avid outdoorsman and photographer for as long as he can remember. He moved to New York for school in the early aughts. After about 15 years of the desk jockey grind, he and his wife made good on their years-long dream of owning a home in the Catskills. As he’s spent the past few years fixing up the place, he’s also getting back in touch with his roots through time in the great outdoors. Check out his Personal Blog + Photography.

This column first appeared in the HVNY newsletter, This week in the Hudson Valley. Sign-up to get it delivered for free every week.

Lola's Catskills Years