Furry Travels
We have 2 dogs – an 8 year old yellow lab, Mickey, and a 5 year old golden retriever, Lucy. We view them as dogs. They view themselves as people.
We adopted Mick from a breeder where he had a less than auspicious start to his life, confined mostly to a kennel. He’s the most laid back, mellow, relaxed dog you will ever meet. His nickname is The Dude, like the main character in The Big Lebowski. He’s takin’ it easy for the rest of us.
We got Lucy from a backyard breeder in rural Washington when she was just 8 weeks old. My wife decided there was too much testosterone in the house and insisted on a female. From day one she had the energy of a Tasmanian Devil on a cocktail of cocaine and crystal meth. She could run like the wind, hunt down small rabbits and squirrels, and kill them. High maintenance is an understatement.
Our furry friends lived most of their lives with us up in the Pacific Northwest, where the weather was perpetually cool, predominately wet, and there were off leash areas everywhere for fun and frolic. They swam in clear blue lakes, hiked through old growth forests, and basked in their fenced acre of grassy lawn at their lake view home.
We uprooted their world when the perpetual wet weather became too much for us to bear and we moved to Tucson. Now they are relegated to leash walks through the neighborhood, an occasional trip to dog park, and swimming in our backyard pool. Everything in the wild desert has painful spines on it and the sun shines down on their golden fur from dawn to dusk. Quite a change from what they grew up with.
Being dogs, they quickly adapted to their environment and found happiness in their new home, but imagine their surprise when we packed up the truck last week, loaded them in the back, and drove across the desert to beautiful Santa Barbara, CA. We’re back to green surroundings, a grassy lawn and 70 degree daytime high temps. And they are acting like a couple of veteran travelers on the adventure of a lifetime.
When we arrived at our rental home, they marched right in like they owned the place and quickly made themselves comfortable on the living room couch. If they had thumbs, they would have grabbed the remote, turned on Animal Planet, and popped open the cookie jar.
The next morning we all jumped in the truck and headed to dog beach. It’s a lovely stretch of shoreline with miles and miles of beach to run and play in the waves. No leash required. Lucy ran like she was 6 months old for the entire visit and The Dude enjoyed a refreshing wade (he doesn’t swim) in the cool Pacific. Paradise.
Day two we hiked to the off leash park where they could chase rabbits, greet the local dogs with a hearty butt sniff, and enjoy the amazing views of the entire area. Or just take a leisurely stroll if you’re The Dude. Perfection.
Day three had Lucy pawing at the front door while we were having coffee asking to go out on another adventure. She already knows the route to the beach and the park and would happily drive herself there if she could just find the truck keys and reach the pedals. The Dude just waited patiently for us to go.
More dog adventures await them as our time here continues. There’s another large off leash park to sample for morning romps where Lucy can go nuts. There’s also a restaurant that has an extensive dog menu of chef-prepared items where The Dude can indulge his inner gourmand.
I’ve read that in a dog’s mind everything is forever, so they probably think we’ve moved here permanently and now we do this every day. If only that were true. We have a few weeks here to enjoy both people and dog paradise and we are all looking forward to an extended taste of the California lifestyle. We’ll have to see how the dogs react to their return to the real world at the end of the month. I’m sure Lucy will miss the beach and the park. The Dude will abide, as always.
