An Odyssey

Barley, a dog, sits on hotel bed somewhere in the Southwestern United States.

The tale of how Barley came to cross America corner-to-corner in six days involves a longer and more delicate backstory than I’m comfortable elaborating upon here. We will begin our tale in media res on a November Monday in 2019, at Orlando International Airport. The employee working the cargo desk took a look at Barley and declared, “Nope, I don’t care what the paperwork says, that’s a pitbull and we don’t fly pitbulls.” Suddenly, the plan for Barley to fly cross-country was dashed against the rocks. She couldn’t stay in Florida, however, so something needed to be done immediately.

I remain forever grateful for those who rallied immediately to begin the drive from Florida to Dallas, starting at the crack of dawn on Tuesday. Meanwhile, I rallied my own forces. I couldn’t leave work until Thursday after lunch, and I needed to be back at work Monday morning. So my mother and I arranged to fly to Dallas separately. After two days of nail-biting stress, my Thursday consisted of work until noon, then going straight to the airport to fly to Texas.

Once united, my mother and I spent the evening getting ourselves prepped: renting the car, stockpiling supplies, making reservations, working out how to cover the remaining distance. Late that night, Barley was delivered to us; a little antsy from being cooped up in a car for days, but ever her enthusiastic self. Without complaint, she joined our party.

Before dawn, we arose, inhaled some breakfast, and set out. Driving in shifts, the three of us rolled the Earth beneath our wheels for hours, and hours, and hours. Our progress was slowed by various necessities: refueling, bathroom breaks, and the like. Turns out, a dog who has been sleeping in the back seat all day doesn’t necessarily appreciate the urgency of needing to poop right away upon exiting the vehicle, and Barley took her time exploring each new environment before taking care of any toilet needs. Plus, this was late enough in the year that we needed to take a more southerly route to minimize the risk of wintry weather, setting us up for at least 30 hours of pure driving on top of all these pit stops.

We were on the road before dawn each day, reaching our next reserved hotel after dark, some 15 or so hours later. Our elevation rose by thousands of feet, then fell again. We bedded down in Albuquerque one night, then Salt Lake City the next. Finally, as the sun set on an aptly-named Sunday, we reached our destination, where my dad joined us to help with the final bit of car juggling. Through it all, Barley was a complete trooper. Sometimes quizical but never seeming anxious, happy to spend hour after hour mere tens of inches away from us.

Reflecting on this all now, how fortunate I was to have this problem to solve in 2019, rather than in 2020. And how fortunate to have had the help of many people to make this coordinated relocation possible. Above all, I’m grateful that Barley took the whole thing in stride. She seems to love her life here with me, and my life is certainly much richer for it.