Homeward bound

It’s 6 am. Brrrrrrh! The first morning of autumn is certainly a brisk one. We’ve just arrived at a Hertz Rental Car location, but since it’s not due to open for at least another hour, Buddy can take a little snooze off to the side of the office. Neither of us got much sleep during the night, but Bud’s an opportunist, that is, he’s able to sleep just about anywhere we stop to take a break. I leave him to his dreams and wander across the highway to a Hess Station to get some coffee.

Soon after returning I make the arrangements to rent a Toyota Yaris to get us back to the Pacific Northwest. Buddy doesn’t hesitate but jumps right up into the front seat as if to confirm that he approves of this idea. So with little sleep and a lot of caffeine (for me) we set out for home, a country to cross yet again but this time just 72 hours in which to do it.

 

 

 

Though Bud slept for much of the trip, this bison in North Dakota definitely got his attention.

Where's a ride when you need it?

We sit quietly for most of the night beside an on-ramp for interstate 80. Up to this point our day has seen us exit New York City, crossing both the Queensboro and George Washington bridges. I'd come into Jersey with the hope that someone heading west might want to pick up a couple of weather worn strays, but by morning my romanticized notion of how things would play out is pretty much gone. Though someone had kindly offered a Dunkin Donut's sandwich and a hot cup of joe to take the the chill off, there really wasn't the slightest hint that we might find a ride. So with the arrival of dawn we move off toward Newark, hoping to find some other place where a hitchhiker might get a ride.

'Man,' I exclaim to Bud, 'I'm spent. How 'bout a rest 'long side this here river?' Buddy looks back at me with the starry-eyed wonder of a child enraptured by the thought of Christmas, and after receiving permission, plunges into the water. The swim does him good, bringing back some of the youthful zeal that so quickly fades with hard travelin'.

We continue to follow the Passaic River to the town of Rutherford where I see a sign that says 'dog park.' I try pointing it out to Bud.

'What da ya say, my friend? Are you up for a bit of social interaction?'

He's not paying much attention to my query as his gaze has fallen upon a squirrel collecting its nuts.

'Let's go see if we can't find you a play mate,' I suggest, and with that, we head off in the direction of the sign as Bud's spasmodic dashes continue to alternate between geese and squirrels.

The canine area is full of friends for Buddy, so many, in fact, that he appears a bit shy in the beginning, but he soon starts to warm up to the others. As we're about to leave a guy named John offers to give us a ride.

'Where ya going?' he says.

I explain that Buddy needs a kennel in the event that the hitchhiking idea doesn't pan out and we're forced to fly back. John seems to have a pretty good idea of where we need to go, and even though we've got to visit a few different places, in the end, I find a large carrier that meets Delta's guidelines. So, by mid-afternoon, it would seem that the decision to fly back is made. John hospitably offers to take us to the Newark airport where we part ways.

Next, Bud and I enter EWR and approach the ticket counter with excitement. I don't think he's ever been in an airport before cause he appears fully astonished by the volume of travelers with suitcases in hand. I'm just about to book tickets for both of us when the lady behind the counter asks for a letter from Buddy's vet. I give her his immunization papers, but that's not what she wants. I'm told that a specific letter must be issued to verify that Buddy is able to fly.

'Are you serious!' I respond with surprise. 'I don't recall anything about that in the What You Need to Know section of the pet transportation rules.' But admittedly, I had skipped some parts of the tedious reading. 'Is it the same for all flights?' I ask. 'Pretty much,' the lady replies.

So, with dismay, we leave the queue and take a seat near one of the windows. 'It would seem,' I say, 'that we're back on the streets, at least until some other mode of transportation becomes available.'

We start out of the airport, and an hour later find ourselves right back where we were. This happens several times until I finaly stop in the shade of an overpass.

'I'm not sure there's any way to walk out of this airport,' I say turning to Bud. 'Every road seems to just go in a circle.'

It's obvious from the bewildered expression on Buddy's face that he's just as confused as me, what with passing the same towers and parking lots over and over.

'And this kennel isn't the easiest thing to lug around.' I've got half a mind to leave it right here,' I declare with an exaggerated emphasis on 'RIGHT HERE.'

Buddy just rolls over and bellows a dull moan that I take to mean, 'It's time for a belly rub.'

A little more perseverance and we finally find our way. Moving out of Newark and toward the town of Union, we have negligible success in locating anyone who might want to transport us westward, although, the sight of a three legged dog and a guy carrying a kennel around on his back certainly turns a few heads.

By night time there's little hope of finding a ride, and the temperature's dropping rapidly so Bud and I hunker down in a parking lot behind some buildings. Unfortunately, I'd given away my sleeping bag and a good deal of my gear the day before so to stay warm, Buddy and I snuggle up together in his new house.

It looks like we'll be renting a car tomorrow.

Buddy in the Big Apple

My friend Upendra had some things to do today, so it seemed like a perfect opportunity to take Buddy on a tour of the city. We left Rego Park in Queens, walking along Metropolitan Ave for a while until reaching the Williamsburg Bridge which Crosses the Hudson. Such marvelous pedestrian walkways--nothing like most of the bridges we had to hazard during our continental crossing.
Once in Manhattan, we got on the esplanade that follows the river and proceeded past several other notable places, among them, The Brooklyn Bridge, Wall Street, and  The Freedom Tower. I doubt Bud was impressed with any of that; however, he was thrilled to go in the canine gymnasium in one of the parks and play with a bunch of other dogs.
When we arrived in Battery Park I took a picture of Bud with Lady Freedom in the background, and then, we napped in the shade of a tree before returning the nine miles back uptown. Buddy's gonna sleep well tonight.

Buddy at the beach

As soon as his paws hit the sand he's off like a bolt, chasing seagulls, discovering that salt water isn't good for drinking and finding all sorts of new smells. It's almost as if he knows that we're there, that the long and difficult walk is finally over. So now there's cause to celebrate. The inner puppy comes out, and in a display that I have only witnessed one other time during the journey, Bud totally lets loose.

Dogs in Delaware

Well, this walk may be coming to an end, but the flow of treats certainly is not. Since entering the last State on route to the ocean, Buddy's been blessed with more good stuff. Here, at a coffee break in Middletown, an attendant at the Valero station provides one of his favorite afternoon snacks.

Bud and Abe

As you can see, there's no partiality with Bud. Whether dignitaries, presidents or folks on the street, the bottom line is always food. Give him a treat and he'll be your best friend. No goodies, and he'll usually show he's uninterested.