Puppy's First Campout
It seems like just yesterday that we were taking Ponderosa on her first camping trip, even thought almost two years have passed since then. Last Thursday, though, it was our little Bizzle-bee’s turn to have her first overnight adventure in the wilds.
I’d like to say it all went smoothly, from the get go, and that she enjoyed absolutely every minute of the trip - but that would be a big old lie. Because Bisbee is not (I repeat, NOT) a fan of the car. My guess is that her first vehicular experience involved being captured and taken to a shelter, with or without her mother. And then she was driven up to Colorado from New Mexico. Then shuffled between foster homes before we were able to adopt her. There is anxiety and mistrust and FEAR when it comes to traveling in Rolling Death Traps (her words, not mine!).
This is part of adopting a rescue as opposed to going through a breeder (who could have taught a puppy from the get-go that car travel is just part of being in a human pack). Bisbee’s first experiences weren’t positive ones, and we now have to take on the task of undoing that trauma. We’ve been up to the challenge of course, practicing with short trips to family members’ houses and to the little puppy class she was a part of. And she’s been doing great - better and better every time. But there was definitely a little build-up to this ride, with us packing up etc., and so she went in a little more revved up than we would have liked.
At first, she just made herself sort of small. But by the time we reached the foothills, she had begun to drool. And then she puked and puked and puked. I thought I’d dealt with enough dog puke to last me a lifetime after Ponderosa’s issues last year, but as it turns out I’ve probably got a lot more in store. Knowing that Bisbee was going to struggle on some level with the ride into the mountains, we picked a spot that was relatively close at only about an hour and a half from home - but even still, she managed to throw up six times on the way.
Two of those times, unfortunately, were right on Ponderosa. Our truck has an access cab and we’ve built up the back so that it has a nice flat surface all the way across where the dogs can rest. It’s not a lot of space, but definitely enough for two small canines to stretch out a little.
NOT if your sister is going to be sick, though, and after becoming a target the second time, Ponderosa didn’t even ask before launching herself up over the center console and into my lap in the passenger seat, where she proceeded to stick her nose right in the vent and give me sad eyes while I tried to clean her and the puppy and myself off.
Well.
After finding ourselves a little campsite, shaking ourselves off in the clear air, and taking a little romp through the woods, things brightened up considerably. Bisbee stayed a little tentative, giving us a stare that said she was NOT ready to get back in the truck anytime soon, but the more we settled the more she did too. And pretty quickly she was exploring again, wagging her little tail as she nosed her way through the greenery.
Eric and I meandered a little ways away from our campsite and stretched our hammocks between pairs of pines that overlooked the distant peaks. Relaxing about a hundred feet apart, we were able to read and rest and (for me) play some guitar while the dogs roamed between us, always in sight but with a little more autonomy. At one point, Bisbee came to say hello and, with only the barest hesitation, hopped right up into the hammock with me. What a treat! The afternoon light was glowing - and so were we as we gently rocked back and forth.
As evening fell, we made our way back up by the truck and started to ready ourselves for dark. The dogs got dinner and we set about cooking ours as well. We tend to eat a whole lot of junk when we camp - hot dogs and baked beans, etc. - but we also almost always end up cooking zucchini, too. I’m not sure how that happened exactly but now it’s just part of the experience and both pups sat at attention as we cooked, hoping to catch the stray slices that (inevitably) “fell” before their hopeful paws.
We were a little worried about how Bis would feel when it came time to pile into the truck bed for sleep, but by that point she was so tired she didn’t care. Just curled herself up into a little ball and slept the whole night through. And when she woke up in the morning? Oh, the confidence! She was prancing around like she owned the place and running back to us straight away when we called her name.
For the drive home, Eric and I came up with a strategy - a strategy that basically revolved around not letting Bisbee get anxious to the point of puking. The first step was just to take a lot of stops. First this meant stopping and getting out every couple minutes to let her stretch her legs and release some adrenaline. Then every couple miles. Then with a few more miles in between stops. The second was a move I took to calling Proud Dog, Hooded Falcon.
To execute this challenging maneuver, you begin by positioning the pukey puppy on your lap. Then, with one hand, you gently cup and lift the chin until the nose is pointed ever so slightly skywards. Sad dogs, scared dogs, tuck their chins and hide. But proud dogs? They lift up and up and up. It’s hard to be afraid when your body is in such a positive position. Now - that second hand. You take it and gently cover the eyes of the little sickling on your lap so they can’t dance and dart and generally build upon the mayhem.
And in this way, we slowly but surely made it home without our little girl coughing up a single kibble. Small, painfully slow, progress that left me more than a little slobbery and with arms that felt like jell-o, but it sure was better than the drive up.
Since then, we’ve been feeding her all of her meals in the back seat. Going for small rides. Generally just hanging out in the cab. And this morning? I opened up the door and she jumped in, happily, all on her own. We also had to make a trip to the vet for her final puppy shots and, no joke, she lifted her nose up to make herself feel better every time she started to feel afraid. That’s the kind of try that just makes me want to burst into tears - my brave little pup facing down her demons.
So, was it the perfect first camping trip? Maybe not…but we learned a lot about each other and did some serious growing along the way. And next time? Bisbee will be even more prepared. Raising a puppy is no joke, but at least with this little one it’s (almost) always a joy.
