I have a confession to make. It’s not a big, dirty, secret, but it is something you should know…
Henri hates to ride in the car.
Really. He hates it.
I want him to be one of those windows rolled down, nose in the wind, loving life dogs, but he’s more the jump from the front seat to the back seat, to the front seat, to the “Oh my God hit the floor there’s a semi and we’re all gonna die!” dogs. In fact, he spends the vast majority of his time in the front seat panting and staring at me in preparation to hide in the floorboard (or jump to the back), and I cringe thinking what would happen to him in a collision.
“Don’t make me stop this car.”
I know I should make him wear a seat belt and I’ve tried that, but none of the ones I’ve tried work very well. He ends up being a tangled mess that I can’t fix without stopping the car.
I’ve also tried hauling his blanket, his bed, and his hedgehog. I’ve sprayed the car with Comfort Zone, given him Rescue Remedy, and tried the Thundershirt. In truth, when used all together these things do help and I can highly recommend them, but it’s quite the production. That’s fine and dandy if we’re going on a long trip, but sometimes, I just want to make a late night ice cream run.
For quick trips, I’ve learned what he does and doesn’t like. He likes ALL the windows down, and the sunroof open, or none of it, which is weird, but whatever. Maybe we just need a red convertible.
I also know he hates it when other vehicles are bigger than us. 150s with loud engines and semi-trucks unhinge him. Maybe we need to be higher off the ground. Say, a 16-20” clearance. Maybe a Jeep with a lift kit, a bikini top, and the doors blown off. A red one. Of course, the bikini top would flap in the wind and make a scary noise, and with no doors, we are back to the seat belt issue. Sigh.
“Are we there yet?”
It’s clear Henri enjoys new places and new sniffs. He never balks at jumping in the car when it’s time to go, and he does occasionally put his head out the window. It just always seems he’s asking if we’re there yet. Now, I know how my parents must have felt and I should just be happy he doesn’t sing commercial jingles.
Remember “Gee, I swear! I’ve got more hair!” -from the Gee Your Hair Smells Terrific shampoo commercial in the 70’s? I sang it from Little Rock, Arkansas to Dallas, Texas.