Yesterday's hike can only be described with one word.

Bliss.

Sure, the weather was perfect. Sunny, a tinge of fall in the air. The leaves at Bronte are starting to change, first signs of red popping out. Squirrels are busy gathering nuts for winter. We parked in Lot F and headed to the creek trail, which meant I was headed for a swim and a romp in the water.

None of those things made the day so blissful, however.

No.

It was the bog mud.

And the pig crap.

I was the dirtiest I think I've ever been, and I loved it.

She didn't notice I had lept from the boardwalk in the bog until it was too late. The mud was so thick, I was sinking and had trouble walking. I rolled around in it to ensure I was thoroughly covered - even mashed my face into it. When I came up, my head was caked in dark bog mud. I couldn't see! So, I stumbled over to some marsh grasses and ran my face through it, clearing my eyes and nose.

Euphoric, I climbed back onto the boardwalk, caked from head to toe in thick, stinky bog mud.

Just to ensure the human didn't miss out on the experience, I shook, covering her from head to toe in black splotches.

She was wearing a white t-shirt. She appeared to be thrilled.

We made our merry way toward the creek. I ran the last few feet and flung myself with joy into a deep part of the water. Billows of black mud spread out around me. I chased a few sticks, played in the water with a 6-month old German shepherd whose name escapes me, and, once satiated, pounced into some tall grasses to roll around.

The mud on my body was less striking by now, but my head was still nice and thick with it, so my roll in the grass accessorized my wet furry bod with various grasses and burrs.

We continued the hike, me, prancing proudly, her, well, laughing, shaking her head, that sort of thing.

I suppose she thought I was finished.

However, we had yet to reach the pig barn.

Once we did, I flopped down for a nice roll in some pig poo.

My ensemble complete, I settled into the front seat of the car (editor's note: on her waterproof seat cover, all four car windows open wide, human gagging) and surveyed my world proudly as we drove home.

That, my friends, is true bliss.