On the Road

I discovered the other day that taking a long drive with a dog in the back of the car is a lot like taking a long drive with a child. In both cases, about five minutes after you pull out of the driveway they’re already asking “are we there yet?” Except with a dog you don’t get the whiny voice – you just get the perpetual whine that goes on and on…and on…that even turning up the radio and opening all the windows won’t hide.

On Thursday, Porter and I hit the road for Point Reyes and the Point Reyes National Seashore. According to MapQuest it was just an hour and a half away from Napa and I couldn’t be this close to the Pacific Ocean without getting some sand in my Tevas. So I herded Porter into the back of Jason’s new Chevy Equinox (with its automatic transmission – yeah!) and we joined the light traffic headed west toward Petaluma. The first five miles went smoothly, although I did experience a bit of anxiety when a California State Highway Patrol car pulled in behind me and followed for about three miles – even though I was going the speed limit and breaking no laws I still had that churning feeling in my stomach. It was at about that time that Porter started with his whining – nothing major, just enough to let me know that he wasn’t really happy to be back there. Between frequently checking the rear view for the red lights to come on, reading my MapQuest directions and Porter’s little symphony I was already stressed and we hadn’t made it out of Napa yet.  So I called on one of the skills that I have learned over all those years of raising three children called “selective hearing”. Or, more plainly, I just ignored him. Eventually he decided that his whining wasn’t going to be enough to make me stop and let him out so he settled down and was mercifully quiet – for about 10 minutes. Then the whining became more insistent and louder so I figured that perhaps he had a legitimate reason for doing so and I pulled over to the side of the road to let him out on the leash. Even though we had taken a potty break before hitting the road, he watered a patch of California poppies forever and I felt a bit bad for ignoring him.

Then it was back into the car again and we made it to Petaluma before the whining started up again. Since we were in the middle of dairy country and surrounded by endless fields dotted with cows, I tried distracting him with one of the tricks that always worked with the kids called “look at the cows.”

“Porter, look at all those cows, look at those big black and white cows,” I called out idiotically for, of course, he couldn’t have cared less about the cows. I kept up that silliness for about five minutes and then turned up the radio and sang along, hoping that my melodious voice would calm him down. He’s obviously not a Springsteen fan…

Just when I had reached the end of my bag of tricks, we had reached Point Reyes and climbed into the fog covered hills. I saw a sign for a trailhead and pulled into the parking lot, only to discover one of those signs despised by dog lovers everywhere – the “No Dogs on Trail” sign. We stood at the trailhead and I had a brief moment of rebellion where I considered going in anyway. But, being married to a police officer, my law-abiding side won out and we just took a brief stroll around the parking lot and then headed down the road to another park and another “No Dogs on Trail” sign. Really? For a state that touts its outdoor, healthy lifestyle, it sure doesn’t seem to be too friendly to man’s best friend. Our last stop, literally at the end of the road before I had to turn around, was Kehoe Beach. I let Porter out of the back and was thrilled to discover that yes, dogs were allowed. Jackpot! We trotted down a beautiful trail surrounded by fields (and cows) that quickly turned into beach grass. We crested the hill and there, spread out before us, was a beautiful sand beach and the Pacific Ocean -and dogs. Dogs of all shapes and sizes running after birds, chasing Frisbees, and furiously digging holes in the packed sand while their owners looked on contentedly. I think Porter was a bit overwhelmed by it all because he stood by my side looking up at me in confusion.

“Go on buddy. Go have fun,” I told him and he bounded off after a flock of sea birds at the water’s edge. We walked the length of the beach and Porter played in the surf with another Lab for a while. We stayed at the beach for about an hour and I enjoyed the smells, sounds and sights of the Pacific.  I was also dreading the trip back home and all its attendant whining. I shouldn’t have worried though, because Porter was so tuckered out from his running and playing that he could barely make it into the back of the Chevy and he slept most of the way home. I actually got to enjoy the scenery on the drive back and this time, I played the ‘look at the cows’ game with myself. And it was fun.