Summer Travel with an Old Dog

Although the calendar says it's officially a month away, here in the South, we know May is already summer.  The humidity is up, and the thermometer is hovering near 90-degrees on sultry afternoons. So it's time to leave Florida behind and head to my cabin in Warne, North Carolina, nestled in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. It's a place where day breaks slowly, the mist rising through mid-morning, giving way to warm afternoons, then nights that call for a quilt on the bed.

I prepare by packing a box of good books--there's no TV there--and bringing my most comfy jeans for berry picking.  After that, I'm ready to load the dogs in the car and head north.

For one of my dogs, Big, this may be his last summer on Pine Log Road.  He's old, nearly blind, and his legs aren't up to steep, or even shallow, climbs.

The trick is getting him there one more time.  As his name suggests, he's a large fellow, and his quivery hips make leaping in the car impossible.  But like me, Big loves the way the cabin air smells of deer dancing in the woods and newly-mown hay.  It's up to me to figure out how to give him another mountain summer.

So I've developed this list of travel tips:

1.  Make room for his loading ramp.  After every inch of space is taken, you'll still need to find a place for this invaluable bit of dog dignity that folds to the size of a thick card table.  Keep in mind, you'll need easy access to it along the way.

2.  Place his bed beside the air-conditioning vent.  It's a long dusty ride that winds through Alabama before hitting the stop-and-go traffic of Hotlanta.  Even if you need a sweater, he likes the blower on high.

3.  Compromise on music.  While he'd prefer the just-short-of-shrill sounds of Celine Dion or Barbara Streisand, who make his ears twitch with delight, he can also sleep soundly to Norah Jones or Patsy Cline.

4.   If you have to stop, plan to do so twice.  While all you need is a quick fillup, he will need someplace soft and green, a place to puddle into as he struggles to figure out what's happening.

5.  Be patient, trying not to lament lost minutes.  Likely, he will stroll through specimens left by other travelers before finding the right spot to go.  Perhaps he knows he'll never sniff this part of the world again.

6.  If he drinks every drop of water in the make-shift bowl, find the jug and pour him another.  Remember, a cool drink on a hot day is one of life's simple pleasures.

7.  Realize his rheumy eyes will not see that you've set up the ramp on the other side of the car. When possible, try to park so he can come and go from the same door.  If that's not possible, most stubborn refusals can be swayed with Pupperoni.

8.  When you finally arrive, give him time.  Even though he may mosey down the ramp, pausing as if posing for pictures by the papparazi, wait for him to take in the air.  Be his guide dog as he negotiates the steps leading to the cabin door.  Once inside, feed him the good stuff, the stuff from a can.  After all, while all you did was drive eight hours, he's had a really hard day.