The English Springer Spaniel is known as an “active” breed. That’s code-talk for a dog who’s always ready for any adventure. For Amigo, life is a met with an attitude that each day holds new and exciting exploits. “Load up” and “Let’s go” are some of his favorite words. When we considered a road trip to the vast open prairie, we knew he would be up for it. And last week we did just that.
But first things first. It’s time for Amigo to get a summer haircut. The groomer is at the same place as his puppy training classes. He fondly remembers Kelly, the instructor, and all the treats she keeps in her pockets. He bounds excitedly out of the car when we get to the parking lot.
Hey, wait a minute. We’re not going in the main entrance, but the side door that leads to the area with the funny smell. He knows that smell: dog shampoo! Amigo hesitates, tucks his tail, falters in his steps. The groomers fuss over him as he comes in the door, but Amigo is not reassured. For a dog who likes to be on the go all the time, he suddenly becomes stiff-legged and immobile as I propel him through the gate to the grooming station. The leash changes hands and I leave him to his fate. Three hours later I return to the happiest, tail-waggingest puppy dog on the planet. He’s hardly recognizable from the disheveled, dirty beastie that I dropped off:
We spend the next couple of days of sorting and paring and packing the essentials. Amigo’s box holds food, treats, toys, dishes, water, towels, and more. There’s a road map in the door pocket, and you-know-who in the driver’s seat. A little reordering of the seating arrangement, and then we’re off.
Rather than take the interstates, we drive on some of the less travelled roads, until a thousand miles later we arrive at camp:
Here is country made for an active dog. Wide open spaces with all sorts of smells to catch his interest. As long as he avoids ticks and cactus and foxtails and snakes and fire ants and coyotes, Amigo is free to have fun. His genetic makeup takes over, and he’s off, nose to the ground, quartering back and forth, following the trails of what passed by earlier. He smells the cowpies that litter the grazing area. He shies from the unfamiliar humans who want to say hello. But once they are no longer paying attention to him, he sidles up to sniff their jeans and boots. Amigo uses his nose more than any other sense to know the world. And what a world it is:
We didn’t make the trip solely for Amigo’s sake. Cyber-friends planned for over a year to meet, camp, and share mutual interests. Yes, a bunch of folks from various locations and backgrounds, who for the most part only knew each other by exchanging remarks on different internet boards and blogs, decided it was worth their time to gather face-to-face. It is an amazing concept that still has me scratching my head in wonder. I feel like I know and have more in common with people I met on the internet than my neighbor across the street. There’s hand shakes and introductions. The exchange of user names and real ones. In no time at all, we’re sharing road stories and backgrounds. We spend three days with great new friends.
It’s hot. Too hot for me. We get a hotel room with air-conditioning. At the end of a day in the 90s in the thin air of the high prairie, even Amigo seems grateful to stretch out in the cool room. He’s one tired but happy dog as we load up for the last time:
The drive back takes an alternate route from the way we came. We spend one day in Yellowstone National Park, which is not nearly enough time to see everything it has to offer. Amigo barks half-heartedly at the buffalo there, but for the most part, he’s had enough adventure. The active dog isn’t so active any more. All tuckered out, he spends most of the time on the way home in his favorite spot, wedged between the other members of his pack:
It’s just before dusk when we pull into the driveway.Three happy creatures: glad to go, and glad to be home.
-Amigo’s friend
