We got special permission from the owner of a condo in a resort up north on Lake Michigan to bring Roxie. We thought she'd love walks in the the woods and a different environment for a change. Our hopes were high and we were excited about the mini-vacation.
For safety reasons, we made the huge decision to get a travelling crate for Roxie for the trip. She thinks, being moderately spoiled, that her place in the car is in the driver's lap. Someone before us did her that disservice - she cries if she's in the back seat, cries if she's in the passenger seat and tries to jump into the driver's lap when she can. Obviously not a safe thing to do.
Bob lets her ride in the front passenger seat to the park, as the airbag does not trigger because she's too light weight. But for me, that's still unsafe. In an accident she could go thru the windshield or out the door. So as much as I HATE cages, we got her one for the middle seat. It's huge, the cadillac of crates, and filled it with pillows, pads, and quilts. She can turn around and sleep crosswise in it, it's so big.
So off we go, Roxie in her specially decorated crate. The trip was 330 miles. She screamed and cried for 260 miles. Believe me when I say it was pathetic, heartbreaking and headache-inducing. Not to mention her laryngitis upon arrival at the resort.
Trying to be especially kind, we stopped every 75 miles or so and walked her, gave her treats and pets. No dice. She must have been royally pissed at being in jail.
At about 250 miles I called back to our vet and asked what we could give her to "shut her up".... now, truly I didn't say it exactly like that, but the intent was implied. Bless her little noisy heart.
Turns out that Xanax is a wonder drug. We used it on the return trip and it cut out about 80% of the crying.
Spoiled behavior... or anxiety? Whatever, Xanax is the drug of choice for long trips in the safety of her crate.
Next on the list of excitement: wild critters in the North Woods. Northern Michigan is really very rural and woodsy. I freely admit to being a suburban gal. Don't like flies, bugs, critters, dirt, lack of amenities... you get the idea. So when Bob was walking Roxie for her daily business trips, his stories of adventure went right over my head.
Long story short, they saw (at close range!) skunks, chipmunks, squirrels, raccoons, foxes and most importantly, river otters. The northern Michigan river otters apparently like to hide under cars and attack unsuspecting dachshunds walking by. And if you are a regular reader, you know that Roxie lives to fight those wild critters....
The otter attacked, Roxie countered, slipped her collar, chased the otter into it's river den and we guess found a nest of them. She chose retreat as the better part of valor and got her ass chewed on the way out.
In the midst of the fray, Bob hit the otter on the head with his flashlight to get it off of Rox, and he was left holding the huge Flashlight-That-Shines-to-China, a leash with an empty collar and no dog in sight. Should mention here that it was 6:30 AM and pitch-pitch-inky-black. The otter will undoubtedly have a headache.
War wounds below. They shaved her beautiful hair and found many little scrapes, bites, punctures and lacerations. She looks like a patchwork baby.
Luckily she'd had her rabies vaccination last month after a close encounter of the raccoon kind, and she got her distemper at the vet along with antibiotics and pain meds.
This latest-and-greatest adventure occured on our last morning there. We threw everything in the car, wrapped her in a towel and took off for a five-hour drive to our home vet. Lesson learned - scout out local vets when travelling.
Roxie had a quieter ride home with the Xanax, our vet was wonderful, Roxie acted like a lady while they worked on her and I gave her a major pain pill for that night. She slept like a log and woke up refreshed on Monday AM. She's bruised and puffy, but no infection so far. She grumbles if you try to touch her boo-boos, so we avoid that.
We're wondering if she's thinking she had great adventure... she might be dreaming of the otter she chased away, who knows...
On the long ride home, I kept thinking how upset I was, how I couldn't deal with all the potential trauma, all the "what-ifs" and I finally came round to accept that this is just who she is.... she's good with most dogs and wonderful with kids, but she HATES critters, especially those nasty north Michigan otters.
Of course, in the future, we won't be walking her in the dark in the forest....
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