How We Spent Our Summer Vacation

I can’t believe it’s been almost five months since last I’ve written of our travels. Let me bring you up to speed.

Tucker and I headed back to the West Coast after Asheville to get some much-needed renovations done on the house. Although satisfying for humans, the process is rather boring for dogs, and Tucker had to put up with my stressful outbursts as the renovations didn’t go quite to plan.

We hiked in Griffith Park, and Tucker got an expansive view of the city (in monochrome.) Not quite the same as looking out over the Appalachian Mountains.

​We had only one adventure in August. Missing Northern California, Tucker and I headed out to our closest alternative: Malibu. There Tucker padded the sands of the beaches... 

...and sniffed the salty ocean air.

But he wasn’t happy. 

He missed his friends in Asheville. The balance we had in North Carolina of work, play, hike, and canine friends was gone. Tucker is much like a military kid. Except at least a human child understands the why behind each move to a new town. 

I took Tucker up to the San Gabriel Mountains in September, not only to be back in the mountains, but to try to escape the stifling Valley temperatures that were still topping the high 90’s even after Labor Day.

​The clear blue skies were beautiful and the trees felt homey, but this is California, not North Carolina. The trees are spread out. The mountains are higher but the woods aren’t as dense. 

​Tucker didn’t express his usual excitement for a mountain exploration. 

​Even the friendly geo-creatures didn’t delight him. 

​There were hints of Northern California, but not enough to be an adequate substitute to the redwood forest I was longing for.

I will get to the redwoods eventually, but Tucker needs more than a forest to make him truly happy. Beautiful vistas bring me joy, but not as much as seeing my boy happy.

​Finally, the solution, the answer, the thing that Tucker had truly been lacking, came to be. Due to a job possibility (which ultimately fell through but another came about), I discovered West Pack BnB—a small daycare and boarding facility about twenty minutes from our Burbank home. Here I got to see it again (via text since I wasn’t there in person): Tucker’s beautiful, infectious smile.

​Tucker romped and played and met other dogs and made new friends. 

He even found a chair all his own. And nothing says Home to Tucker like a good chair.

Five days a week was too much for him—he became cranky like a two-year old who hasn’t had a nap. But three days a week was the balance he needed. Three days while I went to work, Tucker got to have his social time and hang out with his own kind. Not only did it make him happy, but it made me happy. My boy was joyful again.

And because they provide boarding as well (cage free, slumber-party style in small groups), it means I can now go away for a weekend on a human adventure knowing Tucker is well-cared for and happy.
​
The photo and video updates throughout the days made my smile each and every time. My happy Tucker was back. Balance had been restored. 

Now that Tucker's social needs were met and my job provided money, it was time for more hiking. 

In early October we did one more hike—back to Malibu. A burned down “cabin in the woods” California style. There seems to be many of these in the Los Angeles area. Fifty to seventy years ago people started building mini-mansions off the grid in the wilderness to get out of the “city.” And it was hardly a city then. I don’t think these people would be able to tolerate the crowded urban sprawl that is Los Angeles today. And the woods are hardly woods--just canyons in the desert.

It seems that fire is the big killer of these estates... leaving, ironically, only the fireplaces standing.

Despite no fire actually burning, it was unbearably hot in the canyon.

​The reviews of the hike claiming adequate shade proved incorrect, as did my silly notion that the ocean in view would provide some salty sea breeze.

When it came down to my boy needing to rest, I provided a shady spot for him. Although not as large as a tree, I was thicker than any vegetation along the trail.

​The views were pleasant, but I wished for better hiking weather.

My wish was granted rather quickly, but it was a case of not being specific in my request to universe. Location and temperature were fantastic. Precipitation levels: not quite ideal. You don’t need to be careful with what you wish for; you just need to be very specific with what you wish for.

Like a military kid, Tucker had say goodbye to his new friends which saddened me greatly. At least this time I was certain we would be back and he’d return to his friends again, but for Tucker, the future was unknown. All I could do was promise him new adventures.

And a rain jacket.

I would like Tucker to be a versatile wilderness explorer, but I am sensitive to his Southern California upbringing. I hoped he wouldn’t be considered a wuss for wearing it. I’m not sure how other dogs reacted to it, but my favorite comment from a human came from the label she gave it: not a “raincoat,” but a “Vancouver Jacket.”  Tucker wasn’t being wussy wearing a rain jacket; he was a hip dog with impeccable fashion sense sporting a piece of clothing named after the city we were stationed in.

​Next up: Tucker and I cross the border to experience wet and wild British Columbia.