Aspen Untucked: Road Tripping — A Dog’s Perspective
Another day on the road has come and gone and I still have no idea where I am. I’m not even sure how long we’ve been away from home, as my canine mind can’t grasp the difference between a week, a month and a year. I’ve tried to keep track of the times the sun goes down and then comes back up, but my attention span is so short that I often get … Look! Squirrel!
Wait, where was I?
Oh yes. So this all started a couple days, or possibly a few months ago. My humans decided to go on an adventure. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m up for a big hike or a long run, but sitting in a car for what feels like forever ain’t my idea of a good time. They have my furry bed pleasantly situated in the back seat so I’m comfortable. And they turn back to me every couple of hours and sing praises like “good boy!” and “Oh Cassius, what a cutie!” so my self-esteem is up. And I’ve received a surplus of treats, which means they must be feeling pretty guilty. But still, I’m restless back here. We stop from time to time and take short jaunts around the car, but this is not nearly enough to get my energy out. After all, I’m still just a pup. I’m ready to go all the time.
As far as I can tell, on this journey, my parents have absolutely no idea what the plan is. Sometimes we are stuck in the car for next to forever and other times we’re exploring a new place. I can’t get a rhythm or a firm grasp on what’s going on, so I’ve just decided to roll with it at this point. I suppose going with it is better than being left behind. Plus, it’s my responsibility to keep the pack together. I have to work day and night to make sure we don’t separate. Mom and Dad seem to barely notice my tireless efforts.
Our first stop along this “adventure” was named Las Vegas. We stayed at my uncle’s house. Or, at least, my parents called him my uncle. I have many aunts and uncles, though. They can’t all be blood related. Can they? Anyway, this uncle of mine had a cat. That thing hated me and I found oh so much joy in terrorizing it. That stupid fur ball could barely leave his owner’s room he was so nervous. When I was a younger pup, I tried to make friends with these felines, but alas, it was not meant to be. Now I choose to pester the hell out of them. It’s much more fun this way.
The local crowds in Vegas weren’t particularly welcoming. We went to several parks during our stay and met many a dog, but rarely did they care to exchange sniffs with me. I even tried to chew on an earlobe or two and most of the dogs wanted nothing to do with me. They also had strange names. One pit bull said his owner named him Tupac, after a dead rapper. Another wiener dog I met was named Martini, that poor guy. He must get bullied all the time in the dog park.
Needless to say, I wasn’t a huge fan of Vegas, but I grew used to it. I was even starting to get into a regimented eating and pooping schedule (and not even on grass!). However, just as things started to feel like home, it was time to move on.
Our next stop on the trek was called “West Hollywood.” We stayed with one of my other uncles there. Here, dogs are rude at best. We couldn’t walk past one without it yelping and screaming at me. I never got the chance to test this theory, but I imagine none of them had particularly pleasant buttocks to sniff. Frankly, each of them seemed to have their own head shoved so far up their ass they couldn’t be bothered to check out mine. Hmmph, must be a showbiz thing.
City pups lack a sense of propriety when they are relieving themselves. They’ll do it anywhere at any time … like we’re animals or something. They don’t appreciate the finer things in life like being able to take a big dump on a fresh pile of powder or a sprawling field of fresh, green grass in the mountains. They have no idea what true wilderness is. Maybe that’s why they’re so ill-tempered and unwelcoming. Yes, this may make me sound like a spoiled Aspen pup, but it’s not my fault that my parents raised me to appreciate the finer things in life.
Even though Hollywood is no Aspen, I began to grow used to the scene. However, it was not meant to be my new home. Soon after arriving, my parents were ready to go again. They packed up all of my belongings and placed me in the back of the car for another drive. That is where I share this diary entry from, somewhere on the open road.
I’m not sure what’s next on our agenda. Who knows if we will ever return to our home in Aspen or if we will find some other place to live. I’m just stuck in limbo, trying to hold my pack together like the loyal pup I am.
Diary, I’ll write more when we get to our next destination. I keep hearing the word “beach,” whatever that means. Wish me luck as I brave the open roads, hoping and praying that this trek does not last forever.
Ooo! Is that a duck? Gotta go!
Cassius may be homesick, but he’s a better traveler then he lets on. Reach him or his mother at email@example.com.