You haven’t truly felt the holiday spirit and warmth of the season until you’ve spent part of your Thanksgiving in a room at the Red Roof Inn just off the highway with a 65-70 pound dog whining at you because he’s bored and, like you, doesn’t really want to be holed up in a room at the Red Roof Inn just off the highway. The couple in the room next to me (or maybe it’s two doors down) is fighting. There are a lot of f bombs being dropped. She keeps leaving the room – her footsteps are heavy as she storms past my window – fucking this fucking fucking that… I’m not fucking… her voice is low and scratchy and pretty much the only word I can make out is the word fucking. Devoid of all context it might be funny were it not for the anger with which it’s being half-said and half-yelled. This is, I suppose, what one expects at a cheap hotel near the highway interchange.
This is the first time I’m traveling with the dog. All things considered, he’s doing pretty well with it – probably better than I am. He did well on the 3 – 4 hour car ride – though he was shaking like a leaf when we pulled in to the rest stop. I couldn’t tell if he was scared, excited, or just had to pee. I underestimated the logistics involved in traveling with a dog. It took me forever to get out of the house because I was worried about forgetting something. Do I have his favorite toys, his blankets, a crate, enough food, treats, poop bags, a few more treats, water, water bowl, food bowls, etc., etc. I remember when a girlfriend used to complain about packing her dog up for the weekends that she came to my place. And while I knew it was a pain in the ass (enough so that I eventually bought a set of everything for the house) I had never experienced what a pain it was.
There are a few other dog owners staying here at the Red Roof Inn just off the highway. As best as I can tell, none of them clean up after their dogs… which makes for a lot of sniffing and high-stepping. One owner has had his dog running around without a leash – kinda not cool – we try to avoid them. Earlier today, as a bit of a test for both of us, we went to a park. One that I used to go to all the time. Lots and lots of people bring their dogs there. The test is always in how he will react and then how I will react. With some of the dogs he barked and growled and with others, he barely noticed them. We had one guy walk by and say, “I bet he doesn’t take shit from anyone.” Another person commented on the “quality” of Kimbrough’s bark – it’s low, forceful, and a little intimidating (imagine a junkyard dog barking through a chain-link fence “Chopper, sick balls.”)
It’s been nice to come home again, and despite the extra worry, I’m glad I brought the dog. I haven’t been home for Thanksgiving for the past two years. Neither my daughter nor my niece were able to make it – so it didn’t feel quite as normal as usual… and I think in a post-covid world, not much feels normal. I also think that given the miles I’ve put on these past few years (Bucks County to Memphis to State College), the people I’ve met, the two different jobs, the people who have come and gone, the pets that passed and the new one who made the trip this time…. it’s been nice to see some of the familiar amidst so much change. For that, I’m thankful.