A smitten Jake with Muin, in front with ball.

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Sometimes nice things just happen.

Take, for example, what happened to Steve, Jake and I two summers ago on a bike trip to Cape Breton. We were in Baddeck. Steve and I had just finished a great dinner at a nice restaurant on the main street while Jake was taking a well-deserved nap back at the cottage where we were staying. Don’t worry, we fed him first. Jake always eats first.

Steve and I were walking down the street, no doubt feeling content with life given that we were on vacation and filled with good food and wine. I looked ahead and saw a couple walking towards us with two dogs. Jake wouldn’t appreciate it if I called them small, but let’s just say they were dogs with short legs. As they drew near, I said to Steve, “Look, a Cairn.” Then as they drew even closer, I said, “It looks just like Jake.”

By that time the couple with the dogs were close enough to hear us and the conversation began. Within minutes, we learned they lived in Baddeck just a few blocks away. The Cairn terrier was a girl dog named Muin, which is Mi’kmaq for bear, and the second dog was a Yorkie named Casey. Muin was a few months older than Jake and had come from the same breeder in Saint John. Barry and Ann were as crazy about their dogs as we are about Jake, and they just had to come back to the cottage to meet our boy.

I wonder what people staying in the neighbouring cottages thought of the menagerie on the lawn as dusk fell that evening, as dogs chased and played and got their leashes tangled for their humans to unwind. Jake took one look at Muin and clearly fell in love. His first crush. His first girlfriend. We all stood around smiling and laughing as he awkwardly tried to make friends in his clearly smitten state.

Eventually, the little party broke up and we went inside. We were still talking about what a great coincidence it all was when there was a knock on the door. It was Barry inviting us to come to their house for coffee.

We went, of course, and had a great evening of good conversation, quick friendship and lots of fun for the dogs. And if Jake looked a little dazed and smitten throughout the evening, that was fine. What’s not to like about accidentally bumping into your dream girl on four short legs.

There are challenges to travelling with a dog, as I’ve already said, but sometimes a little ingenuity makes a big difference.

One of the great advantages of Jake’s makeshift home on our two wheels is that it can be removed fairly easily. That comes in particularly handy when we’re on extended road trips. Steve simply removes a few bolts and a couple of metal strips (or something like that), and lifts the carrier off the luggage rack on the back of the bike. Moments later, Jake has a handy den sitting on the floor of our motel room.

Jake really isn’t a dog who spends a lot of time in his appointed den. We crate trained him from the time he was a puppy. Frankly, we would have had no choice or our house would no longer be standing.

For his first 18 months with us, Jake went into his den whenever we left the house. Then he started looking at us somewhat stubbornly as if to say “I’m a big dog now” and eventually worked his way out of his crate. That actually lives in our attic now just in case he suddenly reverts and starts chewing everything in sight.

These days, Jake has his chosen “dens” around the house. In the kitchen, it’s under the table. The same in the dining room where, interestingly enough, he runs with whatever treat he convinces us to give him. In the living room, he naps under an antique couch. Upstairs, he prefers to be under the bed, his favourite place it would appear when we leave the house.

But when we travel, Jake goes back to having an appointed den. It’s safest for him, just in case a staff member of the accommodation should come in while we’re out. Jake is very fast. I doubt we’d ever catch him if he made an escape.

It also eliminates our anxiety about what our dear doggie might get up to while we’re out having dinner. Well, at least it does most of the time.

While he’s never damaged anything in a motel room (I’m knocking on wood right now), Jake has managed to damage his den. Not the soft pad that keeps him comfortable or one of his favourite stuffed toys which always travel with us. No our dear little guy attacked the den itself.

When he created the first Jake carrier for the bike, Steve decided it should have small windows. He put them on the back so Jake wouldn’t get too much wind or end up with bees in there with him and he made them just big enough for Jake to see or to stick his nose out for a breath of fresh air, but not big enough to be a risk.

Jake, apparently, thought they were a little small.

One night when we were staying in Baddeck a couple summers back, Steve and I returned from a lovely dinner (they have some good restaurants in Baddeck) only to discover that Jake had decided to renovate his space. He’d somehow manage to get his teeth (they’re quite large for a small dog — oops, I’m not supposed to call him that) around the edge of his window and make it bigger. It was, in fact, more like a picture window and a definite risk for a dog travelling down the highway at 100 km/hr.

It was an interesting dilemma, at least until I recalled that there was a hardware store right next door. Thinking of my stepson who has long said that duct tape can fix anything, I asked Steve what he thought.

Less than an hour later, Jake’s carrier was repaired. It didn’t look quite the same as it had pre-renovation, but it would get him home safely.

Every now and again as we made our way back to the South Shore I’d chuckle wondering what people driving behind us thought and thinking that my stepson was right — duct tape really can fix anything.

At the motel.

Travelling on a motorcycle with a dog is an interesting adventure.

From the time my husband and I started taking road trips, we’ve always given accommodations a heads-up that we’re travelling on a bike. We’ve never had a bad experience, but we’ve had friends tell us that they’ve pulled in on their motorcycles only to learn that their reservations have been mysteriously misplaced, erased or cancelled. So it’s always seemed a good idea to clarify that situation upfront rather than face extra stress on the road.

Of course, when you travel with a dog you have to make sure that the hotel, motel, inn or whatever, allows pets. Some advertise that they take pets. Some don’t advertise it, but allow them anyway. Some places take pets, but only in certain rooms so you have to make sure those aren’t all booked. A few places we’ve called charge huge rates to house a pet overnight — we don’t want to buy the room, we just want to sleep there.

Consequently, when we travel we always book our room in advance. If we’re on the road travelling, we call before we leave one location to the place where we next plan to stop. Two people can check in anywhere or, in a pinch I suppose, could sleep in a car for a night. For two people with a dog on a bike, it’s a little trickier.

But making reservations has led to some interesting conversations. We usually ask first about Jake, but then at some point mention the motorcycle. You can almost hear the wheels turning on the other end of the phone and sooner or later everybody always asks, “you have a dog and you’re on a motorcycle?”

We stayed in a place just before the Canso causeway two summers ago. It seemed like everyone was expecting us when we pulled up and Jake caused quite a stir. We had such a good time there that, a few days later, when we decided to add an extra day to our trip, we called to make another reservation.

After another lovely dinner and peaceful night, we went to check out and a woman came rushing out to meet Jake. She’d missed us when we’d stopped on our way to the island and then heard we were coming back, so she came in at 7 a.m. to see us even though she didn’t have to be at work until 11 a.m. Sometimes we feel a bit like a travelling road show, but in a good way.

Then there was a time last summer when we pulled into a motel in Gorham, New Hampshire. Steve went inside to confirm our stay and came out laughing. The clerk (not the one who had taken our reservation) had seen us pull in and asked if we had a ferret in the pet carrier. Apparently, she’d taken a call from someone else wondering if their furry friend was welcome at the motel, so when she saw our carrier, she thought our Jake might be the ferret.

No ma’am, that’s not a ferret. That’s a RoadDog.

Tired RoadDog after a day on the road.

It’s all well and good to say you’re going to take your dog on your motorcycle with you, but how do you make that happen?

My husband, Steve, and I knew from the day we brought Jake home as a puppy that we wanted him to ride with us. The question became how to convince Jake it was a good idea. We didn’t want to frighten him with the noise or motion, so we thought we should introduce him to the bike gradually. Had he hated it, we would have accepted that, but we really wanted him to enjoy it so we’d be free to enjoy it ourselves.

We brought Jake home in November and just a few weeks later introduced him to the bike. He was about 10 weeks old when we first sat him on the seat to see how he’d react. He wasn’t terrified or even unhappy. We were encouraged.

We spent the winter months planning our approach. We researched options on-line and Steve poured through the stacks (and I do mean stacks) of motorcycle magazines which he devours like some people eat potato chips. There were several alternatives available, all of them expensive, but we found they all lacked something. They were too big or too small, would give Jake too much wind, not enough air or not enough protection. And we still weren’t sure if Jake would want to ride.

It was a warm day, probably in May, when we took the next step. This is going to sound kind of bad, but please remember it was all for the good cause of taking our little guy with us rather than leaving him home alone. We put Jake in a T-bag, not the kind that makes a hot beverage obviously, but the kind of motorcycle luggage that goes on the back of a bike. This one was soft-sided canvas and we left enough of the top open to ensure Jake had lots of air, but not enough that he could jump out and get hurt. It would only be for a couple of minutes.

With the bike running and me almost neurotic with worry (I worry about everything but felt quite justified that day), we put our beloved puppy in the T-bag, Steve pulled out of the driveway and went about 100 yards down the road to a business parking lot, turned and came back. We anxiously unzipped the top of the bag and out popped Jake’s head. His tongue was out, as usual, and he looked happy. I’m sure we did too.

The rest, as the saying goes, is history. I don’t know who came up with the idea of a typical pet carrier, but we already had it in mind when Jake went for his test ride. We bought the sturdiest one we could find and with some minor modifications, Steve’s ingenious (don’t tell him I said that) system to fasten it to the back of the bike, the non-skid pad (which I made from shelf liner, faux sheepskin and the top of a large Tupperware container) and a waterproof raincover whipped up on my trusty if ancient sewing machine, all three of us were ready to ride.

Now Jake’s a biker dude. Check back to read about his adventures.