The long, long car ride

Some humans came and took away all of our boxes and our bed and our frigidator and everything. But No. 1 and No. 2 are still here so it’s all good. That’s what really matters to a dog.


No. 1 put one of the Klingons in her bubble in the back seat and put me in the front seat and we went for a car ride.

It was a really long car ride. My favorite place to roost on long rides is the little part of the car that goes between the front seats. It’s just papillon-sized.

Finally the car stopped and No. 1 rolled down the window. Another human walked up and guess what! It was No. 2! I did not know that he came too! This was a happy!

He brought our other car and there were the other Klingons. I jumped in to inspect the situation.



We went into a little room that had a bed in it. Now I know why you would want to give a Klingon a pill. The humans had given the one in my car a pill to make her sleepy so she wouldn’t go “Meooooowr! Meoooowrrowr!” the whole time in the car. This didn’t turn out to be the best plan, because that night when we were all trying to sleep, this Klingon was all loopy and she kept clawing No. 1’s arm and fastening her teeth in No. 1’s elbow. Finally No. 2 took the drunken Klingon off our hands and we got some shut-eye.

The next morning it was back in the car. They didn’t give her any more of the goofy pills and she did fine, just went to sleep in her bubble. Me too. I dozed on the console, just waking up enough to accept crumbs of cheese-cracker sammiches that No. 1 got for lunch and then back to dozing. If the sun got too hot in the front seat, I crawled into the back seat and slept on top of the pillow next to the Klingon.

Each night we would stop and No. 2 and the other Klingons would appear and we would go into a different little room with a bed. This went on for several days. One morning we got a slow start because that same pesky Klingon got herself lost. See, she’s goofy enough already, she didn’t need any pills to make here worse. The humans called her and called her, and they kept asking me where she was. What am I, a bloodhound? No help here. We looked up and down the halls and asked everybody, but we were still down a Klingon.

Finally No. 1 started turning the room upside down. She found a rip in the mattress. They lifted the top of the bed up and… nothing. Then No. 1 said, “I see a lump!” That dumb Klingon had crawled inside the bed and was sleeping inside the top part like it was a hammock. Oy, what a bother. We finally got out of there and weren’t sorry to see the back of it.

My favorite stop on our long, long car ride was a place that was not just a room, but a whole house.


Okay, there was some sort of a Springer spaniel there that got on my nerves, but other than that it was fun!



We went outside and there was lots of room. I could run! Run the wide open range, like a coyote!



But the next day it was back on the road. We got to one place where there was no bed. In fact there wasn’t much of anything.


No. 1 went into one of the rooms upstairs and I kept hearing her say a word that I know all too well. “No. No no no no no.” I went to see what all the fuss was about.


“Howard Johnson!” she kept moaning. I didn’t see it was as bad as all that… it’s just wavelengths, as No. 2 would say. Apparently it was supposed to be this color:


We slept on some class of a thing on the floor. The next morning I expected we would pack back into the cars. I was getting used to this life on the road, and like I said, all a dog really needs is his pack.

But… I was so surprised! We stayed!


[No. 2 here: We want to thank the Howdy Pardner Bed and Breakfast for showing Willie such a wonderful time when we passed through Cheyenne, Wyoming. A dog loves his wide open spaces!]

Edited: November 28th, 2009

Something unusual’s going on

Something suspicious is happening in our home.

I think it all started when the humans took me for a ride in the car with the Klingons. You have to realize that Klingons and cars don’t mix. The only place they ever go in a car is to the vet. But this time, we just drove around for an hour, and the humans said something about getting them used to long car rides. Why?

After we had been driving for half an hour with no apparent decrease in yowling inside the car, No. 2 made up a song called “99 Kitties Crying and a Dog.” He sang it to the melody of “99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall.” It went, “99 kitties crying and a dog. 99 kitties crying. Give one a pill, make her get ill, you’ll still have 99 kitties crying and a dog.” I didn’t like this song. How did this dog get mixed up with 99 Klingons? Why did they give one a pill? How did it end? What does it mean?

Then the humans’ friends started coming over. One night it was No. 1’s friends, the ones who use sharp implements like she does.


Another friend, who has lots of dogs, came over and had lunch. This human is goofy and knows how to have fun.



Then we went to some more friends’ house and had dinner.


That wasn’t all that much fun. At these humans’ house, there are at least eight white boxers. Maybe it’s only three or four, but when they come at you and smell you all over and bat at you with their great clumsy paws, it seems like boxers everywhere you turn. Here’s one of them.

They all look the same from down here, trust me.

They all look the same from down here, trust me.

Finally, something strange started to happen in our house. The humans’ stuff started getting put into boxes.


The only benefit I can see to this development is that for the first time I can get into the frigidator! All the way into it! It should always be this way!


Edited: November 3rd, 2009