Road Dog

 

    Olivia was quite the road dog. When we left on our 3,000-mile around-the-country camping adventure in 2016 we had no idea how much fun it would be for all of us. She loved laying by the campfire with us every night except that one when the rains were torrential and we snuggled up on our queen-sized Murphy bed all together to read.  Or sleep.  She stood right next to us as we looked out and over the Pacific Ocean at that campsite on a cliff in California just north of Santa Monica.  The sun setting over the wide sea awed us all.  She slept in peace in our Mini trailer those couple of days we parked at a weird campsite/marina on the Sacramento River near vineyards and rolling hills.  While Ken was gone watching the Patriots in town, she was my guard dog, barking at the suspicious looking camping neighbors who seemed from another place and time with long beards and motorcycles, loud music and beer cans in their hands.  She was with us as we took in the blasting sunset over the badlands that seemed to lite up momentarily just for us, that night we were lucky to get a campsite on the edge of the campground that you always need a reservation for.  That next morning I swear she laughed with me when the cows started mooing at dawn.  She was always up with me at dawn.  

    Typically she was not very good hanging out in the car sans Ken and/or me.  She wanted to be with us all the time, glued to our sides.  My Honda has teeth marks and shredded safety belts to make this point.  Same with the truck. Now I imagine running my hand over those soft threads once back in Maine, shedding more than a tear.   Those things that drove me crazy then I remember now with an ache in my heart.  

    But on our three month, post-retirement adventure from sea to mountain visiting relatives in Idaho and Georgia, she was an awesome road dog. Never a shredded seat belt.  Never a howl even when we snuck her into that underground garage in Nevada so we could walk Hoover Dam despite the signs to not leave a dog in the car.  But it wasn't hot on that day and we knew she'd be quiet and safe.  

    Always waiting and watching. 

    Remembering an amazing companion. 

    Rest easy, you sweet road dog.  💔🐾