Today I had to go for a grocery trip.  I had to weigh on what to do with Drew.  Either tie him up in the yard,  let him loose  in the house, or take him along in the back of the truck.

It seemed that solitude was the worst condition so I loaded him up in the truck.

The truck bed is cozy.  It’s got a topper and I had already lined the bed with carpet and padding.  I threw in his usual bed, a cardboard box with a blanket, and his favorite toys.

Many friends of mine guide their dogs into their vehicle with a simple gesture.  The dog gleefully jumps in with anticipation of an adventure or the opportunity to thrust its face out a window into the breeze.

No gesture would guide him, he wasn’t going in.  I climbed in the truck, leash in hand, trying to coax him in with surefire toys.  No avail.  A friendly passerby assisted and lifted him in.  He stood steady and I closed him in.

I drove on periodically checking his status.  A steady flow of drool oozing from his mouth the whole trip.  He seemed to be doing fine despite the constant salivation, but half-way through the trip he blew chunks of doggie chow.  The ride was shaking his nerves.

Had to scratch the plan to take him on a trail and got him a pig ear at the last grocery stop.  The pig ear was my brother’s idea. (“Thanks bro!”)

He was pretty shook up when we got home.  I unpacked the groceries, cleaned the truck, and threw him the pig ear.  He instantly went into some kind of euphoria, savoring and chomping.  I thought it would last for days, but he annihilated it within fifteen minuets.

A dried pig ear is like doggie crack.

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