In my last blog I was dreading driving a total 800 + miles to spend a few days down South with a ‘crazy dug’ (sic) (Scots say dug) and you know what? She was great. Oh, she groaned a lot, and shifted around a lot, and it was four hours (no, seriously, FOUR HOURS) before she sat down for the first time – but no barking, yelping, or trying to attack passing cars through the windscreen, side windows, and back window.
On the way back she sat down for the first time only two hours into the journey and by the time we bypassed Glasgow she had started taking two-to-three-minute catnaps, so she’s really becoming quite the traveller. Dear me, though, she is very glad to be home, as you can see in the photo.
The catnaps were wonderful because she stopped panting and this dog can pant louder and for longer than any dog in the history of travel. Not just hah hah hah hah, either. She manages to add bulldog sounds to it. Sort of gnhHAH gnhHAH-HAH gnnnggnnnnhhahHAHgnn. She particularly liked to sit next to the Satnav and pant at it, steaming up the screen, until The Voice icily asked her to desist. Oh yes. I distinctly heard it.
Turn around, it told her firmly, when possible. So she did.