“Don’t be a pussy.”
That’s how our journey began. Jo in the bathroom, ordering the other Jo in the mirror to not be a pussy. I mean, sometimes the other dog I see in the mirror eyeballs me funny, too, but I don’t start talking to it. And I’ve certainly never forbidden it from turning into a cat. Hell, I didn’t even know humans and dogs could turn into cats! Can they?
I like cats alright, but I love being a dog! The very idea of having to use a kitty pan to do my business got me spooked, so I joined Jo in the bathroom and pawed at her leg to get her attention. She propped me up on the counter, and together we slammed our paws and fists down, chanting, “Don’t be a pussy…DON’T. BE. A. PUSSY.”
Looks like it worked. Jo was still human. I was still the most amazing dog in the world. Jo later told me the pussy mantra was to work herself up to leave everything she’s ever known behind and travel not for one but TWO whole years! Starting May 22, 2017, all over Europe, the UK, and the rest of Ireland. And she was dragging me along for the ride!
I didn’t get it. Yes, she loves traveling and experiencing different cultures, but she is not a fan of people, in general. Furthermore, she has a list of fears and what-ifs longer than a Basset Hound’s ears. She doesn’t like busy places, large crowds, or complicated directions, and she’s horribly, terribly, irrefutably socially awkward. I told her we’ve got everything we need right here! Kibble, water, toys, and snuggles. What more could she want?!
So why in the Anne of Green Gables is she stepping thousands of miles outside of her comfort zone to jump teats deep into situations that could potentially be torture for the both of us? Sounds like a nonstop party! Sure, sure.
Well, to see if she can actually do it. Because she’s never traveled alone anywhere more than a handful of hours away by car. She’s always wanted to see a nice chunk of the world, and she no longer has commitments or responsibilities, and because, frankly, we ain’t gettin’ any younger. It’ll be good for us! And hopefully, somewhere along the way, we’ll meet some really kind, unique people.
But she knew this was gonna be a big change for both of us, and she was s.h.i.t.t.i.n.g her pants. Hey, I get it. This one time I had to sleep on a different blanket, and my world nearly came crashing down around me.
In any event, Jo wasn’t even sure if she could take me on her travels, if I would enjoy it or stress out too much, or if she could afford it, but she assured me if I couldn’t come along, she would stay behind with me and continue to enjoy our long walks and talks, our froyo and hot dog runs…and await my inevitable demise before flying the coop. She’s the greatest! 😉
The Great Escape
After much research and budgeting, turns out everything was doable, and Jo prepared us for our Great Escape!
Cue your classic 80s movie montage…NOW! Nine months of Jo planning and executing (her to-do list, not people), putting me through doggy boot camp, getting excited, panicking, oodles of paperwork, brain jumping jacks and tummy flip-flops, financial setbacks, crying, and a fair amount of wrapping herself up in a blanket like a human burrito whilst flopping about like a fish in frustration.
It’s the final countdoooown! As the day of departure drew near, Jo sold many of her worldly possessions and donated what didn’t sell. I had demanded she bring my favorite blanket, some new sweaters, and my special food and treats. So then it was a race back to the store to exchange my original luggage for the next size up.
In addition, Jo had to kick this party off by making a pit stop at Miyagi Wax Studio. There was no way in hell she was going to be forced to shave while traveling.
“Wax on, wax off…,” the sign on the door said. Laura, the aesthetician who did a tour of duty in Jo’s “down under,” successfully tamed the ol’ Sascrotch. She was hilarious and amazing!! And she put up with Jo’s stream of expletives, including some fancy ones involving using Angela Lansbury’s name in vain and busting out with “The hiiills are alive with the sound of muuuusic!” as she yanked and pulled and fired up the gas-powered hedge trimmer.
Yep, Laura’s most assuredly scarred for life now and will be enduring some PTSD (Poontang Stress Disorder) in the years to come. But if you ever find yourself in Florida and need the jungle cleared away from the ol’ Mayan temple, definitely go here and ask for Laura!
Finally…the day of reckoning! Did Jo scrounge together enough money to make all of this happen? Was my puppy paperwork up to snuff, and would I get my pet certificate back in enough time to leave the country?
Long story short: YES
So the humans all went out for celebratory beer at the pub, threw well wishes and condoms at Jo, and told her to get the hell out of Dodge…all while I stared out the window at home, wondering what the squirrels were plotting now, completely unaware of what was in store for me.
That night, Jo looked me in the eyes and said, “We can do this, right? Together? Don’t go dying on me when we’re over there.” I stared right back at her, head cocked, nub of a tail slowly wagging, and I placed my paw on her arm. Turns out she took that as a yes, when in reality I was just telling her I had to poop.
Well, looks like I’m stuck going to Europe now!
Up Next: Barkelona, Here We Come!