McCarter, of Overland Park, titled this “Skye Walking: Improvise, Adapt, Overcome.”

On cold winter walks I’ll wear four layers and still fear the north wind.

Skye wears her black fur coat.

On summer walks I’ll wear a single, thin, wicking layer and welcome the south wind.

Skye wears her black fur coat.

Twenty-nine pounds, All-American, with one white paw, a pure walking dog — follow me, she says, the pleasure is in the going.

Skye is a tip of the spear dog — on a sled dog team she’d be lead dog on the lead team.

With the flexi-lead leash inches from full extension, she holds to a path’s edge and glides onward. Other dogs do not distract her. Squirrels and cats, she merely takes note of. Ducks and geese, she cocks her head and watches, not breaking stride.

She will stop — when deer are close. Initially I missed this, but I learned to pay attention — she knows what she’s doing; she has skills I don’t; she’s strong in ways I’m weak. Example: Yesterday, Skye paused — and there, across Tomahawk Creek, at most 20 feet away, were two doe and, between them, two itty-bitty fawns.

Another hot day, and Skye waits at the door.

How we walk summer-safe:

Improvise: A small plastic container that previously held decorating sprinkles now travels as a dandy doggy drinking bowl.

Adapt: The Fuel Belt I wear has four pockets; each holds an 8-ounce bottle. I share them — two filled with dog endurance drink, two with PowerAde Zero.

Adapt: A drink every four miles in winter; every mile in summer.

Adapt: Winter walks during the warmest part of the day; summer during the coolest.

Adapt: Half-marathon in winter; 10K in summer.

Overcome: The pleasure is in the going.

Skye and I, we go.