We Made it Home!

T told us people were enjoying our travel blog but, just the other day, we found out we have an actual fan! I was so excited I could hardly eat my dinner. Okay, kidding, that's just never going to happen, but I was excited. So a big thanks to Uncle Allan for following us on our journey and for the positive feedback. Well, not all positive, he did have one criticism. The last post was in Colorado where we were holed up waiting for the wind to die down and then…nothing. Maybe more of you are wondering what happened next: Did we not make it home? Did we get lost? Is our rig lying in a windy Wyoming ditch? Well, none of the above, thank goodness, just a lack of getting around to it. Seems when we get home there are so many things to do that, before we know it, weeks and months have gone by and then it just seems too late.

On the hunt (see bottom right of photo)

So what could a couple of dogs possibly have to do? Well, for one thing, the farm was overrun with gophers when we got back. I guess they’re technically ground squirrels but whatever they are they were EVERYWHERE! I did my best to decrease the surplus population but I did need help from Nollind and his friend Darren. They got a hundred and fifty or so more than I did, but then I didn’t have a gun. If you’re counting gophers killed with bare hands, or paws, I won!

Keeping an eye on T while she rides

And then there are the horses. That’s more Logan’s area, keeping them in line, moving them to where they’re supposed to be, helping T and Nollind get them through gates and such. He can have that job. I’d much rather take my chances with a gopher than tangle with a horse’s hind feet. I got bit on the nose once and I’m embarrassed to say I did let out a good yelp, but Logan’s missing half a dozen front teeth. I think I won that one too.

And our duties don’t end there. There’s barking at any and all who venture into the yard, running out to greet the boarders when they come to see their horses, keeping the barn and horse shelters free of pigeons, warming the dog bed in T’s office while she’s working and checking on all of the bones I buried last year (and Logan’s that I’m able to find).

Squirrel watching in Wyoming

But, back to the rest of the trip. The wind finally died down enough that we were able to leave Colorado Springs and head north again, aiming to be home in a couple of days, but Sheridan, Wyoming was such a great spot we stayed an extra day there. Well, that and we heard there was a snowstorm at home. Why rush back to winter? T and Nollind explored Sheridan while Logan and I hung out at the KOA RV Park, a nice quiet place right beside Goose Creek. After months in the desert it’s hard to describe how sweet it is to roll in green grass and drink from a creek. And, even better, this park had gophers that lived in the trees! Impossible to catch but I could watch them all day.

Leaving Great Falls - I think I can smell home!

Our final stop, same as two years ago, was Dick’s RV Park in Great Falls, Montana, where we repeated our Missouri River walk. Dick’s was our first stop in January and our last in May, a fitting end to another great trip. On Monday, May 5, after four months on the road and 15,000 km, we rolled into the yard. The snow and ice were gone (good thing because I started blowing my coat in Tucson), the air was warm and we were home!

Waiting our turn at the border.

Cool thing is, we’re coming up on an important day in about a week’s time…the halfway mark between our last winter RV adventure and our next. Yes, we’re off again in four months!

So, apologies to Allan and anyone else who was left hanging. And thanks for reading.

They Tip Over?!

Yet more road hazards in New Mexico.

I’ve known for years that vehicles are dangerous—you only have to pay attention to the news—but yesterday I learned of a new danger: the damn things can tip over! We’re here in Colorado Springs, have been since last Wednesday, and our plan to leave yesterday morning was foiled by wind warnings in northern Colorado and Wyoming. But, the frightening part was the “no light trailer advisories” all along the I-25 in Wyoming where, get this, "blow-overs of light trailers are very common”. Blow over!? What the hell? Who decided this was a good way to travel? If I thought I could walk home I would but, realistically, my feet are just not up for an 1,800 km trek through this rocky, cactus-filled country. I have no choice but to endure the death trap a few more days and be prepared to hold on for dear life if required.

A little something I picked up beside the Rio Grande.

Teresa and Nollind have been much easier about going home this year compared with two years ago. Back then it was a bit like watching someone try to stuff a cat into a carrier. This year they seem to be looking forward to it, even excited. Me, I'm all over it—room to run, pooping in privacy, no foreign objects stuck in my paws on an almost daily basis, and oh…my leather couch...sigh. Leaving tomorrow I’m told, if the wind subsides.

Campsite in the Rio Grande Gorge

Granted, the stay in Colorado has been pretty nice, with a visit to a terrific off-leash dog park every day we’ve been here. It has a creek running all along its 24 acres and, no matter what time of day we go, there are plenty of other dogs. And, for the humans, it’s fenced, so they can enjoy themselves too (such worriers). Before coming to Colorado, we were camping in the Rio Grande Gorge near Taos, New Mexico for a few days. There wasn’t a lot of off-leash time there but some very good hikes and a lot of peace and quiet.

I continue to occupy my time with the training of my humans. They’re doing quite well in some areas, failing miserably in others. I’ve got them dipping my glucosamine chews in bacon fat so that I’ll eat them (and they think they’re outsmarting me!).

Taking my people for a walk at Garden of the Gods, CO.

On the failing side, it took me two weeks to make them understand they’re not to sit in or place items on my seat in the truck. Really people, why so difficult? The whole time Darren was visiting us, Teresa sat in my place right behind the passenger’s seat. I made such a fuss I couldn’t imagine how it wasn’t obvious, but no, they just debated on why I was suddenly not travelling as well as I had been. If humans spent less time looking at electronic screens and more time observing what’s right in front of them they’d be so much smarter, maybe even as smart as dogs.

It's All Good but the Goat Heads

New Mexico would get an A-1 rating from me if it weren’t for the “goat heads”. You heard me right, I said “goat heads”, although a biologist type would probably call them something different. A nice local woman in Las Cruces told us what the vicious little seed pods are called, the ones that stick to my feet almost every time I leave a paved surface. Logan doesn’t pick up nearly as many as I do…I guess he doesn’t always get the worst of things.

White Sands, New Mexico

But otherwise, New Mexico is very dog friendly. White sand dunes for romping through, lakes with water in them, restaurant and coffee shop patios that permit dogs to accompany their people, and even mountain hiking trails with real streams! It’s a bit colder here–we even drove up a steep, windy road to a place that had snow on the ground–but for we furry types the temperature is just about right.

Crossing a creek at Hyde Memorial S.P.

Today we have company coming, our friend Darren from Calgary. I was worried he was going to bring his dog Roxie with him, and she and Logan would go off playing and ignore me, but I found out yesterday that she’s staying home. Roxie’s all right, but I’m relieved. I don’t like having to share my buddy with other dogs. We went to a dog park in Santa Fe and, as usual, he was off playing with everyone he met, including this one enormous dog that bounced around like a giant rabbit and totally freaked me out. 

The Capitol of New Mexico in Santa Fe.

I’m more inclined to make human friends, like the two students at Ecco coffee shop in Santa Fe. The one petting Logan in the picture even sat down on the sidewalk with me for a while. She was so sweet, sigh… That was such a great day, we went along on a Santa Fe downtown walkabout and there were so many people and exciting smells. I was exhausted by the time we got back to the truck.

My new friends at Ecco.

We’re in Albuquerque now, and there are a bunch of things planned while Darren is visiting us. I just hope some of them include dogs, especially because T will be riding in the back seat with us and I’ll be able to use her lap for my pillow–one of my most favouritest things.

And On and On We Go...

Thorns found everywhere from unknown source.

Two years ago when we travelled, we were ariving home on this day, but this year we’re roaming further east, into New Mexico. It’s cooler here, which is easier for a black dog to take, but damn it if there aren’t a bunch of vicious little star-shaped pods on the ground nearly everywhere we go. And at the last stop, City of Rocks, another snake in the trail, and this time not the harmless variety but a Mojave Rattlesnake! That put a bit of a crimp on the hiking I tell you. Teresa and Nollind don’t have to worry about me (even though snakes are a new thing I’m pretty tuned into any creature’s “leave me alone” vibe) but they worry about Chico, and rightly so. He’s as liable to grab a rattlesnake as a ground squirrel, anything that moves he tries to put between his teeth to see if he can either kill it or eat it or both. He’s the kind of dog who gets the rest of us labelled as animals.

Our campsite at City of Rocks.

Mojave Rattler lying in the trail.

Okay, so I admit I’m getting a bit homesick, and road weary, but I try to show enthusiasm for new things. In Las Cruces we’re camped in an RV park that’s within walking distance of the town of Mesilla, an historic Mexican town that was part of the Gadsden Purchase in 1853 making it part of the United States (or so the sign said). Chico and I don’t usually go along on shopping or dining excursions but Mesilla promotes itself as dog-friendly so along we went. 

Waiting patiently outside the gallery.

The shopping wasn’t bad, mostly wandering the narrow sidewalks past a bunch of very old buildings, but many other dogs walking the same route did make for a pretty interesting olfactory experience. We were only tied up twice (which I despise) outside a gallery and then a bookstore, and each time in the shade and for only a short time. Tolerable. When we walked into the front courtyard of Andele’s Dog House Restaurant I thought, good grief, we’ll be tied to these cement benches for hours while they eat and drink inside. Nollind went in while we waited outside with Teresa—odd—and when he came back out we took the walkway around the side, through the back drive and onto the rear patio of the restaurant. There we were—dogs—in amongst the Friday afternoon drinkers and diners. I think my jaw may have dropped a little…but only for a second.

Andele's Dog House Restaurant

Novelty aside, I wasn’t as enthused with the experience as Chico. People are so noisy when they gather in groups, especially when you put food and alcohol in front of them. Chico was enthralled and kept trying to venture to other tables to meet the neighbours and check for any dropped food. Of course, he never got further than the end of his six foot leash so Teresa and Nollind generously shared their basket of corn chips and plate of Mexican food (at least the parts that weren’t spicy) with us. I mostly hung out under the table, the same thing I do when we have people dining with us at home. There’s something oddly comforting about a low roof and human feet.

The Rio Grande, just before the leashes came off.

Two days ago they took us walking to a trail along the Rio Grande. My Spanish isn’t great, but I thought rio meant river. Apparently in these parts, rio means wide, sandy wash where dogs can run off-leash. Fine by me.

Life on the Road

Entranced by a ground squirrel.

We went from the remoteness of Saddle Mountain to the bustle of the City of Tucson…but I adjust, I’m like that, a “go with the flow” sort of dog. I can sleep as easily in the desert as on asphalt. And here in the city there are a lot of people, and I do love to meet people, and the place we’re staying has resident ground squirrels, which I could watch all day, or at least when I’m not sleeping.

T and Nollind have been a lot busier here—dinners out, live music, a book festival, shopping, the Desert Museum, and apparently some kind of street festival tomorrow. It probably sounds like it’s been pretty boring for us dogs, but not really. We’re staying in a big parking area at Casino Del Sol, where there are a bunch of other RVers and their dogs, and between the desert all around us and the lighted grounds for night walks, we might be doing more walking here than when we were at Saddle Mountain!  

Climbing to the top.

View from the top.

A few days ago, we hiked to the top of a hill that’s just across the main road. It was rocky and a bit of a scramble at the end but what a view! On the way down, Logan picked up a piece of cholla cactus that had fallen on the trail and, before I could get over to help him, I had some too. Nasty stuff—my leg was bleeding by the time T got it removed. Major ouch! Logan was even worse off than me, getting a chunk in his hind leg and also in a front paw, and he limped for a few days until T and Nollind were finally able to locate the one tiny piece that was still stuck in a pad. Poor guy—he always seems to get the worst of these things.

One of many daily naps.

Life on the road is fairly routine but in a good way. I like to start off the day by jumping up on the bed for my morning cuddle and I usually end up falling asleep there until I hear going outside activity like jingling collar tags or shoes going on. An hour or two-long morning walk is followed by breakfast J and a nap, hanging out at the trailer with T and Nollind or maybe waiting for them to come home from some outing we couldn’t go on. We go for another short walk before dinner J, which is followed by more hanging out at the trailer or waiting for T and Nollind to come home from an evening outing. We go for a third walk before bed, get our bedtime biscuit J and, finally, tuck in for the night.

Keeping an eye on the RV neighborhood.

There’s a lot of time for sleeping, but that’s not so different from home, and there’s plenty to watch outside the windows most days, and we get to spend a bunch of time together, which I love. And sometimes, when they can, T and Nollind take us along on their outings. When it’s cool enough they’ll take us on shopping or errand days but mostly down here it’s too hot to be left in a vehicle so we only go when it’s a dog-type outing like a hiking trail or a park.

Well, it was a long, warm walk this morning and I’m feeling a little sleepy. T’s headed outside with a book so I think that’s my cue to take up a spot in the shade on my outdoor sleeping mat. 

Freedom!

If you were to ask me what I value most in life, being that I’m a dog, you might expect me to say treats, the stroke of my master’s hand, my favourite squeaky toy, or some other such stereotypical malarkey. All of the above are nice but, truth is, for me, it’s independence. Most of you probably don’t know why I'm named Logan and might even think Teresa picked it because it was a popular boy's name at the time I came into their lives. Ever see the 70's sci-fi movie “Logan’s Run”? Well, that’s where my name comes from. The first time they took the leash off me out on the prairie I pulled the fastest horizon-job they’d ever seen, and—just like that—I was named. Too bad I wasn’t close enough to see their faces; humans are so amusing. Of course, I came back, always do.

Okay...I confess to having a favourite toy,
but it doesn't squeak, it grunts.

Dogs on strings.

So at home I have a lot of what I value most and can wander over to visit my friends Coco and Asta across the road, or chase off a coyote that comes too close to the farm, or just have my morning constitutional somewhere private, away from where everyone walks. Here on the road, it’s very different and, more often than not, I’m attached to the end of a retractable string. I’m quite aware of how long the leash is, so I rarely hit the end of it, but just knowing that it’s there changes the feel of an outing. And who wants to poop with two people watching and waiting to pick it up? It’s so degrading.

North Algodones Dunes Wilderness

After a week at Fountain of Youth Spa, where we were leashed most of the time, we had the chance to go for a run at Imperial Dunes Recreation Area. At camp there were ATVs, sand cars and side-by-sides everywhere but on the north side of the highway, where the vehicles weren’t allowed, the dunes were completely untracked…until we got there. It was kind of like Huntington Beach piled higher and without water and I couldn’t get enough of running up the hills. Young as he is, I beat that little red mutt to the top every time.

Hiking at Saddle Mountain

Since that day we’ve had some off-leash time every day—at a second place we stayed in the dunes and now here at Saddle Mountain. This was the best spot yet for the first few days; I was free around camp and out walking. The only time the leash went on was when we got up into the cholla cactus, and I’m fine with that—I’ve had a chunk of cholla on my leg and I’m happy to not repeat the experience. But then a new threat was spotted by one of our fellow campers. I don't know much about rattlesnakes but seeing one in the vicinity has meant a lot more leash time for Chico and I. We did see a snake on one of our walks a few days ago—Teresa almost stepped on it—but apparently it was a harmless type (although it did make her jump!).

Western Patchnose Snake about 3' long

Sunset at Saddle Mountain

At Wickenburg yesterday, another Albertan told us about a rattlesnake showing up in a firepit in his busy campground and that they’ve been coming out of hibernation the past couple of weeks. This made for a lot more eyes to the ground during today’s hike back here at Saddle Mountain. I stayed on the road and close to Nollind’s hip, not wanting to find out firsthand about snakes. I’ll leave that to my good buddy Chico.

The Fountain of Youth

I was hoping for a third trip to the beach but, after a day of chores (people chores that is) we were packed and on the road again. I fell asleep as soon as we hit the freeway and stayed that way until our lunch stop along the road to Palm Springs. Riding in a vehicle is so relaxing; I can never stay awake for long.

Fountain of Youth entrance

We made a short stop along a body of water called the Salton Sea and I thought for sure we’d camp there. The water was calm and on such a hot day I could imagine myself wading out until my paws left the bottom, letting the water come up and over my back, cooling me off. I was shaken from my daydream by Nollind restarting the engine. We were driving toward the exit. What? T was reading from a piece of paper the camp host had given her and commenting about the dog unfriendliness of California State Parks. We’ve stayed in them before and are always limited to walking around the campsite, which isn’t much of a walk, or on roads where it isn’t safe. Fine by me then, let’s go find some unrestricted desert trails for walking!

Not sure how anyone pulled a trailer with one of these.

Fountain of Youth RV Park was just up the road and on a hillside overlooking the Salton Sea, far from the boundaries of the state park. It looked pretty deluxe as we drove in—not our usual kind of rustic, desert camping location—with palm trees and cactus lining the long entrance, a gate where they checked your pass before you could come in, and people driving around in tiny cars. It seemed friendly though, everyone waving and smiling as we drove by. I hung my head out the window, wishing I was able to wave back. At the top of the park there was a large area that looked much more like home—the dry camping area. It was a little more crowded than we’re used to but it had the same easy feel of our boondocking sites.

Sweet shade.

It was hot the whole time we were there so we dogs spent quite a bit of time lying in the shade of the trailer. T and Nollind went swimming in one of the resort’s pools every afternoon but, as usual, I wasn’t allowed to go. I probably would have appreciated that pool more than all of the humans put together and yet I was excluded. If dogs ran the world…

On the plus side, there were no restrictions on where we could walk and there were miles of trails just outside the park fence. We were even allowed to walk all over the resort, on a leash of course, and "most" everyone was very friendly toward dogs. We did our desert walks in the morning to avoid the heat of the day and usually had a nice stroll around the resort later in the evening. At camp I had to be tied because, well, I’d run out to meet this Rottie who was walking by on a leash—but he told me to come over to him! I swear! What was I supposed to say to a dog that big? But anyway, I was kept on my tether after that. That Rottie is probably still laughing.

Fountain of Youth campsite.

We stayed at Fountain of Youth for a week and I think T and Nollind did seem a little younger by the time we left—but, in my opinion, it was more the R&R than any magical waters.

Huntington Dog Beach

I’m generally not a fan of the big city, preferring the tranquility of a quiet, country locale, but I knew there would be at least a few stops in populated places this trip so I tried to be patient during our stay in Los Angeles. For the first three days Chico and I hung out in the trailer and, other than one nerve-racking walk to the fairgrounds where the horse expo was happening, it was pretty relaxing. Day four we all got in the truck for something they were calling “dog day”. I wasn’t sure how riding in a truck could possibly play into my idea of a “dog day” but I was willing to go along with the excursion. We drove for almost an hour through the most frightening kind of traffic hell I’ve ever experienced—ten lanes of cars and trucks and vans and motorcycles flying along at speed in both directions, changing lanes, merging on and off, zipping overhead on bridges. 

Huntington Dog Beach

Much to my surprise, we made it to our destination unscathed—beyond a few more grey muzzle hairs—and parked along a stretch of green grass and sidewalk. It didn’t look like much and I wondered again how this was “dog day”, but when we went over the grass berm, there it was…the ocean. I remembered it from the last time we travelled, when we visited a little beach crowded with dogs and people, with waves rolling in and a few crazy canines actually playing in them. But this beach was different. It stretched for miles in both directions and there were people and dogs here too, but scattered, some of them so far away to be just small dots against the sand.

Wrestling on the beach.

When we reached the edge of the water the leashes came off. Oh the freedom! It had been two weeks since we’d been allowed to run free and I immediately ran at Chico biting at the backs of his legs to get him to move, inciting a small wrestling match on the wet sand. That is until the water came up and touched my feet. Ack! I’d forgotten that the waves come after you. I remained vigilant after my initial lapse of attention. We walked for an hour and a half, meeting some fellow beach-goers on our way. Teresa and Nollind took off their shoes and walked in the water but I didn’t join them, preferring to stay a little ways up the beach. Even Chico didn’t seem sure of the moving water, and he’s earned the nickname Otter back at home along the canal.

Teresa enjoying her bare feet.

Game of beach fetch.

Such a magnificent afternoon for man and dog called for a repeat, so we booked an extra day at the Pomona Fairplex RV Park and returned to Huntington Dog Beach the next day. It was foggy and kind of cool that afternoon, perfect for mock fighting with other dogs, and after a few of these sparring sessions I was feeling pretty brave so I ran into the moving water for a drink. Blech! What did they put in the water? I tasted it again. Nasty! I looked to Teresa and Nollind who seemed to be finding the whole thing amusing and called to me to come out of the water. But I need a drink! Down the beach a ways, after another dehydrating play session, I tried the water again, this time taking a couple of big gulps before I realized it had the same foul taste and wasn’t in the least bit thirst quenching. I ran to Teresa who often carries a water bottle for us but she didn’t have it. Did they expect me to drink from the swill pond?

Lesson learned - no more drinking the water.

It took an hour to walk the full length of the beach to a sign that had a drawing of a dog with a large red circle around it and a bar through the middle. Chico seemed to interpret it as a “dogs pee here” sign and immediately did so, much to everyone’s amusement. I sampled the water one more time on the way back to the truck at yet another spot but it had the same horrible taste. By suppertime I wasn’t feeling so good and didn’t eat. I knew that water wasn’t okay. I wasn’t much better at breakfast the next morning so skipped that too. Luckily it was a stay-at-home-do-laundry-clean-trailer day so I was able to rest and felt well enough to eat dinner that night. Note to self: always sample water carefully before taking a drink. Or, better yet, let Chico drink first.

California Here We Are!

T’s been getting after me to write this blog for weeks now, but she seems to think she has to type for me and she’s been far too busy. If she’d just leave the computer on the table ready to go I could get it done but, like most humans, she underestimates my abilities. So, we’ll do it her way. I talk (from my brain to hers) and she types.

"Homer Simpson" Skull Rock

We’ve been in California for three weeks. We started off at Joshua Tree National Park, camping in this very cool spot with giant rocks and weird trees everywhere. Trouble was...no dogs on the trails, at least that’s what the sign said, but T and Nollind did take us on a hike to a place called Skull Rock. Nollind thought it looked like Homer Simpson Skull Rock and I'd agree. Love the Simpsons—not as much as Family Guy where the dog part is far more realistic, but the Simpsons are pretty funny.

Walking Lost Horse Mine Road in Joshua

T was sick at Joshua Tree so we didn’t do much other than a couple of short walks. She mostly sat in her arm chair at the back of the trailer looking out at the scenery, reading, napping, and drinking this terrible smelling tea that apparently made her feel better. Not sure how that was possible. I like most everything humans eat or drink but…yuck! Have to admit though, by the time we left she was feeling better so I guess the nasty tea must have helped.

Borrego Springs was next, boondocking at a place called Pegleg Smith Monument. We were there two years ago for a week and it’s still a great spot for long desert walks and freedom outside the trailer. But, then it was my turn to get sick. T and Nollind thought it was from the water at a dog park we visited in Indio. It tasted fine to me but supposedly had little things swimming in it that made a mess of my intestines. After a few days of far too many trips to the bathroom (including three I had to wake them up for) we visited a vet in town. I love the vet, not sure why some dogs make such a fuss about going. Attention focused entirely on me, petting, treats—what's not to like?

Pegleg Library (that's our place between the signs)

For the next five days I was on medication. T and Nollind thought I didn’t know the pills were hidden in those little balls of turkey loaf, and I was happy to oblige by willingly taking them. I don’t do a lot of chewing anyway so if the pills tasted bad—who knew? By the time we got to Pomona I was feeling much better, ready for the activities planned there—horse expo, car racing—it all sounded good to me. I was up and ready on Friday morning only to learn that I wasn’t going along. But I love horses! And there will be so many people there that will like dogs! 

Now I understand why Nollind drinks so many of these!

We dogs stayed in the trailer the next two days while T and Nollind tortured us each night by coming home smelling of the exciting things they'd seen and done. At the end of day two, when I'd lost all hope, we finally got to go to the fairgrounds. I was so excited I could hardly stay on all four paws. While Logan walked right at Nollind`s hip, I ran from left to right and back again pulling at the end of my leash. We walked through a tunnel that had crowds of people streaming at us on the other side and I pulled toward them trying to make eye contact, my ears forward, tail wagging, but none of them stopped to say hello. I couldn`t understand it; that always seems to work. On the other side of the tunnel the people thinned out but there was something even more exciting—food kiosks!—a smorgasbord of french fries, popcorn, and pulled pork scattered on the ground right there where I could reach it! But, no go. I was pulled from every tasty morsel...well, not quite ;). Once we got away from the food area, T let the leash out and I finally had a chance to meet some of the people. My colour draws people in and once they touch my ultra-soft coat they just can't stop. I'm a bit like one of those flowers that lures its prey by being so pretty. 

One of T's horse expo photos -- I have no explanation.

We walked to the far end of the grounds where all the horses were kept tucked into little boxes in a long building. Not sure why they were indoors in such nice weather. Our horses only get put in boxes when the weather is very, very nasty. Other horses had riders and were in a huge covered space where a man was speaking loudly and tall metal stairs were filled with hundreds and hundreds of people, many of them with food. What a strange and wonderful place it was.

T and Nollind at NHRA drag races.

When T and Nollind started packing up to go to the car races the next morning, I was hoping I`d behaved well enough the night before to earn my way along. Not sure if it was the pulling on the leash or the popcorn score but it was another trailer day for us dogs. But, I was okay with that in the end; we could hear the cars from the RV park and I wasn`t sure how anyone could be closer without having their ears blasted off. Luckily, T and Nollind still had theirs when they got home.