03-05-2025
Tails of exploration
Preparing to travel, I opened my luggage and swivelled for pyjamas. Turning back, the suitcase was packed — with Pirate, our Jack Russell Terrier. When taking out the luggage, Pirate stormed the door, the gate and, at the vehicle, just couldn't resist repeatedly bouncing up off the ground — boing-de-boing-de-boing.
Whether they're born travellers or just stalking food-providers, eager mutts like Pirate exhilarate road trips. I offer some tales and tips.
As a frenzied life force, Pirate increasingly insisted he serve as our co-pilot. Attentively perched on the vehicle's console, he nonetheless proved unreliable. Turn-signal clicks, changes to speed and road surface or roadside dogs and cats deranged him and he filled the car with himself. White hairs fused to our clothes so folks across the street could see we were dog people. Ensure those handy lint rollers are in handy places.
Margaret Mackintosh / Free Press
Gord Mackintosh and his trusted co-pilot Pirate cruise along a calm stretch of Highway 2 in southwestern Manitoba.
We learned that Pirate's quiet stares meant quick stops. And we learned to put poo bags in cup holders, purses, pouches and pockets. Likewise, any empty bags.
Tim Hortons' drive-thru lanes triggered Pirate's jitters, heightened after Steinbach's dog-loving servers handed him a free Timbit. It vanished in one gulp. He then thrust his nose into my face for my Timbit. And with that nose, Pirate regularly smeared vehicle windows with translucent swirls and swoops — relaying encoded messages to the aliens who sent him here.
Left alone, Pirate often activated the four-way flashers. He once endlessly laid on the horn waiting outside a pet-food store, but considering his anticipation, we understood. And one afternoon we momentarily left him in the car with Bulk Barn jujubes Margie tied into a plastic bag, and then into another plastic bag. But Pirate chewed the plastic and gobbled each jujube (maybe 40) — and even the black ones, to really upset Margie. He was fine though, at least better than when he swallowed a darning needle, confirmed by X-rays, that he managed to poop out embedded in an earplug.
Before a family road trip, I finished up a watermelon by generously feeding it to Pirate. With five in the vehicle, a dastardly smell later engulfed us. Seeing no emitters across the horizon, we blamed each other. No one confessed. (I never do.)
The stench returned. Despite Pirate's ploy to appear innocent, I heard repeatedly from the kids, 'Ooohh, Pirate!' We deduced: excessive watermelon. I filled the car with gas, alright. Yes, we were the ones, swerving and shrieking with windows jolting up and down, heads intermittently poking out.
Gord Mackintosh / Free Press
It was Pirate versus the Red Baron at Arnes.
Service animals aside, hotels post wildly varying canine policies. These require scrutiny. We once saw a sign saying, 'Pet free.' Margie exclaimed, 'Pets are free!' Another confusing sign for road-weary passing travellers, like me said, 'No pet fee.'
Some pet-friendly hotels offer dog beds and treats, but allow only small dogs or just one pooch. Most require damage deposits from around $10, daily. We found a hotel charging $75 per stay up to seven days and a $250 'undisclosed pet fee.' Charging for hiding pets is not uncommon though. Front-desk staff must have stories, like hearing 'No, this is our son in the stroller. Needs a shave, eh? Droolie, leave your hat on!'
Hotel policies may stipulate you are not allowed to leave dogs unattended. This restricts your freedom to roam when dogs can't remain in a vehicle on hot days or when the hotel pool beckons. Some hotels let dogs be left in a guest room only if kennelled. Housekeepers must have stories too, like 'I… I opened their door and, oh, it was awful — awful! Out of nowhere it sprung! I need another duster, eyeglass lens, fresh underwear.'
When leaving rooms without Pirate, we diverted his attention by tossing treats. He apparently behaved. We found him napping on familiar scent — even a lone sock — or curled up in a suitcase.
But Carman's Blue Crescent Hotel called us to say that Pirate was barking. We swiftly returned. Some of the treats we tossed him had rolled under low furniture. Borderline animal cruelty.
Gord Mackintosh / Free Press
Pirate enjoys a very stable canoe trip at Bakers Narrows.
Some stores allow leashed dogs. Among them, many require they be carried. Restaurants increasingly offer pooch-friendly patios. Beausejour's Airliner Drive In offers a dog menu including The Hellcat which features bite-sized morsels of beef or chicken. And dog-friendly pubs are also becoming common. We discovered taprooms where quiet dogs peacefully mingle with growlers.
Sightseeing with canines guarantees folks will chat you. That's lovely if you enjoy endless narratives about someone else's dog (and you do if you've read this far). Plus, energetic dogs compel you to exercise while hoofing it to unfamiliar places, like when we frantically pursued Pirate and his red leash as he chased a rabbit across a busy road into the bushes.
Some dogs don't mix well with water. Pirate anxiously avoided lakes, but when family members swam, he leapt into action to 'save' them. When canoeing, he thankfully stood motionless. However, in a motorboat, Pirate whined with a strange sound — something like 'Don't wanna. Don't wanna.' After treats, he joined Canada's fishing community.
Vacations mean ice cream. Shops might offer doggie delights — for free — and once the server is out of sight, you can enjoy the whole delicious scoop and Milk-Bone for yourself. Kidding! I don't care for Milk-Bones.
The only thing that could take Pirate's place would be a monkey and a standup comedian. RIP, beloved co-pilot.
Gord Mackintosh / Free Press
Pinawa's Ice Cream Shop proves dogs know their ice cream.
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Margaret Mackintosh / Free Press
Pirate surveys the hills… or is there a squirrel out there?
Gord Mackintosh / Free Press
Pirate enjoys a dog-day afternoon at Nestor Falls.
