Dog's First Vacation!

This weekend signified a momentous occasion in the life of Dog—his very first official vacation!

Yes, Dog has traveled along with us to Grandma’s and houses of friends, but that doesn’t really count, does it? This time Dog was going on a real, for sure, destination-type vacation—to the beach! And sleeping, not on the humble floor of a friend or relative, but in a real hotel!

I hoped Dog’s experience would be a magical for him as it was for me--my first time, when, as a child traveling by car back from a vacation to visit relatives (the only kind we could afford), we were all tired before my dad could drive the long eight hours home and we decided to stop in at—luxury of all luxuries—a Holiday Inn!

At that point in my life, “Holiday Inn” was synonymous to “The Ritz”—each of them being completely out of my sphere of experience.

My mother still laughs, remembering me, running out of the bathroom, thrilled out of my mind at the very idea of the little, teeny soaps (free soap!) that they had waiting for us like they were little pieces of gold! (BTW, I guess old habits die hard, because I am still enamored of all the little sample toiletries, especially in a really nice hotel where you not only get soap, but all kinds of cool stuff like body butter, bubble bath and shower caps!)

I would have loved to have treated Dog to a really posh hotel, like the Ritz Carlton or the Four Seasons for his “first time,” but we were going to Santa Cruz and there were only about a half a dozen hotels that accepted dogs and only one with a vacancy—The Capitola Inn, it was!

Check-in time was 3 pm, so when we arrived at noon, we headed to the beach. I knew Dog would love it (the sandy volley-ball court in our neighborhood park was one of his favorite spots). The beach sand had to have a lot more fascinating smells, birds, discarded food to enhance his pleasure! We did three long walks, some seagull chasing, and lots and lots of exploratory sniffing. Dog was in heaven!

The rest of us—not so much. It turned out to be a foggy, cold day at the beach, the waves too rough for play and the wind too much for pleasurable lounging. We were worried about Dog getting too hot, but with this weather, not a problem! (Do you think he used his magic powers again?)

After we toughed out three hours at the beach, we headed to our hotel. We sat in the car while my husband checked us in. He came out and said, “They want to meet Dog.” I felt proud. I thought that my glowing description of him when making the reservation piqued their admiration and curiosity—that they felt they must meet this magnificent animal of which I spoke.

I did the mom spit-clean of his muzzle and paraded him in, ready to let him reign his charm over them. Turned out they just wanted to make sure he was under 25 pounds, per their rules:


The rules! So many rules for a dog-friendly hotel!

But, luckily, one of them did not forbid jumping on the bed. The very first thing Dog did upon entering the room was to take a flying leap onto one of the two queen beds. I guess because we were on vacation and they weren’t our beds, and he had paid an extra $20 for the privilege of having Dog in the room, my husband not only tolerated this, but actually encouraged it. Dog was in bliss.


Back to the rules—The most frightening, onerous of which was Rule Number 6:

Excessive noise or barking can result in guest being asked to leave.

Yikes! Dog is not much of a barker, but they gave us a room right next to the lobby and, at first, every time a guest would pass by, Dog’s guard-dog instincts would heighten, and bark, he would. The kids and I would descend on him, “Shhh, please, Dog, quiet, no barking,” petting his head in our feeble attempt to calm him.

Eventually, Rule Number 6, combined with Rule Number 7:

(Registered guest is responsible for any and all damages that may occur)

led to my husband staying in the room with Dog while the kids and I ventured to Capitola Village for dinner, which ended up being fine because my husband wasn’t hungry anyway and wanted to take a nap and we wasted a whole hour browsing in the high-priced, touristy gift-shops before we ate, which he would have loathed.

The rest of the vacation was somewhat uneventful, dare I say miserable? I got zero sleep—who knows why—too much light, not my bed, dog curled up, snoring on my shin?

Cold weather predicted for Sunday. As the kids and Dog and I “enjoyed” (which is a term I use somewhat facetiously) the free continental breakfast in the small freezing, early morning, outside patio, Carson, my optimistic, look-on-the-bright-side, go-with-the-flow adventurous guy said, as he sipped his hot chocolate, looking over, not at the ocean, but gazing at the suburban flora and fauna of our hotel, “Ah, this is the life!”

Then, Savannah, my no BS, sardonic child, said, “Yeah, It’s a cold life!” and I knew it was time to go home.

We barged into the room, woke up Jeff, packed up and were out of there before 10 am.

Looking back on the trip logically, analytically, it was a huge failure. Sucky weather. We thought we could leave dog in the room and go have a nice family dinner and that didn’t work out. We were pretty much freezing and worried about getting thrown out of our hotel room the whole time.

I wondered how I could get a theme out of this experience.

Yet, the cool thing is that, even as I’m writing this, I’m starting to get it. (Joan Didion said, "I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking, what I'm looking at, what I see and what it means.")

The vacation was way more fun because of Dog and watching him and his reactions and tending to him. The newness, the tail-wagging, his boundless enthusiam. Dog is never jaded. Dog is always excited. His joy is infectious.

So, Here’s The Grand Theme: Like many things in life, Dog is a huge amount of trouble, but also a great big boost for the soul. Dog forces us to live in the moment, to get out of ourselves, to enjoy and to fully experience life, to pay attention.

It’s corny, but it’s true and not just for Dog, but for most everything that means something—children, passionate work, a beloved spouse: Life with Dog is not easier, but it is richer, more colorful, more joyful.