That’s one tired RoadDog. A weekend of biking can be exhausting.

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A number of people have been asking me how Jake is adjusting to Steve and I travelling on two bikes instead of one. Let me assure you, he’s doing just fine.

After the insecurity of that first evening of separation, our RoadDog adapted quickly. Once he figured out that I was still there with them, just slightly further away, and would be there to get him out of his carrier whenever we stopped, Jake was back to his happy-go-lucky, ready-to-roll self.

I spent the first couple of weeks riding in front of Steve so he could keep an eye on me and tell me what I was doing wrong (yes, I really did invite my husband to correct me). I then decided I’d rather ride behind Steve, so now all Jake has to do is look out of the back of his carrier and there I am. I try to make a point of saying hi to him when we stop at lights or intersections and he seems to be doing great. Admittedly, we’ve been riding even more than usual lately which equals more Tim’s stops which equals more Timbits … I’m sure you know where this is going.

To answer the other question people have been asking, no I really can’t see what Jake does inside his carrier when we’re moving. He’s typically sitting up when we stop, but I can’t see inside when we’re moving. The carrier is shaded, of course, and I’m not brave enough yet to get really close.

This past weekend, we went around the Aspotogan Peninsula on Saturday afternoon. Sunday saw the three of us head to the Valley again, up through Caledonia to Annapolis, then along to Bridgetown. We took a lovely loop out to the coast of the Bay of Fundy to Port George and Margaretsville. I don’t think I’ve ever been there before and it was really nice. By that point it was getting late and we didn’t have a lot of time, but I’d like to go back there and explore another time. There was a beautiful park with lots of rocks for Jake to scramble over as he likes to do.

We went home, quickly barbecued some burgers, then headed to Blockhouse to the Happy Cooker where our motorcycle club gathers on Sunday evenings. The three of us enjoyed a visit and some ice cream (yes Jake had a Timbit and ice cream in one day – it’s summertime for Heaven’s sake). Actually, one of the club members, Bob, seemed quite happy to feed Jake his little cup of vanilla spoonful by spoonful while Steve and I downed our dripping cones.

All in all, it was a great weekend, particularly given that the forecast kept calling for rain. We were all tired and content on Sunday evening.

Jake emerges from his carrier ready for his next adventure (or Timbit).

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When you ride around on a motorcycle with a dog, you sometimes wonder if you might be just a little less than perfectly sane.

Not everyone appreciates our desire to share our experiences on the road with our lovable Cairn terrier. Not everyone grasps the simple truth that we believe there’s more freedom to be found in taking Jake with us than worrying about getting home by a certain time to take care of him. Not everyone believes that you should mount a pet carrier on your bike.

I distinctly recall a mildly unpleasant experience we had in New Hampshire last summer when we stopped at a look-off and encountered a group of local riders. Their self-appointed leader gave us a hard time about having a “doggie carrier” on our “ride.” He wasn’t very smart, frankly, (maybe too many knocks from not wearing a helmet, maybe just born that way) and it didn’t take Steve and I very long to turn the conversation around so his friends were laughing at him instead of with him and he was shaking his head trying to figure out what we were saying, but the experience stuck in my mind.

A couple of new encounters in the last few weeks have been the exact opposite. We were riding with friends in the Valley two weekends ago when a couple on a pair of Harleys pulled into the Tim’s lot where we’d stopped. (I know, Tim’s again, what can I say, it’s an addiction) We were sitting in the shade quite a distance from our bikes, so when they saw Jake they asked about how he rides with us. Once we’d pointed to his carrier on Steve’s bike, they had to see it. It seems they have a pair of dogs with short legs (Jake wouldn’t like me to call them small even if he doesn’t know them) and would love to take them along for the ride.

I also received a response to last week’s blog from a New Brunswick man who rides with his wife. They don’t take their “fur-boy” with them, but would like to, so he asked for a description of Jake’s carrier in hopes of creating something similar. We were happy to supply what information we could and hope to meet up with them when they head this way on vacation next month so they can see the carrier for themselves.

It seems we may not be as crazy as we sometimes think we are. Maybe we should start some sort of group for people in the Maritimes who ride with dogs. Do you think they’d mind if we called it Friends of RoadDog?

Jake is ready to meet his fans.

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You never really know for sure when you write something and put it out there for people to read if anyone really does — you hope they do, but lots of times it’s really hard to know for sure. But apparently, some of you out there are reading about Jake’s adventures because he’s becoming a minor celebrity — very minor, mind you, but it’s still kind of fun.

We were in Mahone Bay on July 1. Having just finished our Tim Hortons fix (you already know we visit Tim’s way too often), the three of us were heading back to our bikes in the parking lot across from the Anglican church when a bike came along Edgewater Street. Of course, Steve and I both looked up (I can’t say if Jake did too, because I was looking at the bike) and the next thing we hear the woman who was the passenger say, “Pull in. Pull in. That’s RoadDog.”

I’m not sure who was more surprised, the man driving the bike or Steve and I. It was our first encounter with a RoadDog fan who was completely unknown to us. Some of our relatives and friends read about Jake’s motorcycle jaunts, but this was a total stranger. How amazing!

The couple pulled in and came over to meet Jake, and us, of course, although we were clearly and understandably secondary to the whole event. From the questions she asked about Jake and our riding, it was clear that she really does read about RoadDog. I repeat, how amazing!

So after a few minutes of visiting, during which time Jake’s new friends were treated to his happy dance, the couple got back on their bike and away they went.

It took us a few minutes to recover our wits after the whole encounter. Then we also rode off on our ongoing adventure, complete with our RoadDog, who is becoming a minor celebrity. I hope it doesn’t go to his head.

RoadDog enjoys Canada Day in Blue Rocks.

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Jake had a fantastic Canada Day.

While our boy enjoys getting out and meeting people, he sometimes gets a bit overwhelmed in crowds and he hates fireworks, so we skipped the traditional July 1 festivities and spent the day riding together.

With me tentatively learning the ins and outs of staying upright in moving traffic on my own bike, we left home and headed to Blue Rocks. It’s a nice ride and we usually go there a couple of times a year. It was beautiful on Canada Day, warm enough with the sun glinting off the water. Jake scampered over the rocks and generally had a good time.

From there, we made a quick stop at Westhavers Beach in Maders Cove, where our RoadDog took a dip in the ocean. Once again, he couldn’t seem to figure out why the water was salty and ended up covered in sand. Oh well, we knew that would happen when we went there.

Our next stop was Mahone Bay where we parked across from the churches and went for our usual Tim Hortons fix. (Someone recently pointed out to me that I seem to write about Tim’s a lot — I’m thinking we might spend too much time there.)

After our RoadDog had gobbled up his Timbit and we’d downed our coffee and tea, it was on to Chester Basin to gas up and then I led the way to Graves Island. That’s another place we usually end up once or twice a year.

It was a gorgeous day there, with just a hint of a breeze and lots of sunshine. Jake ran around on the grass like a fool until he was all but tripping over that tongue of his. A drink of water restored him though and we headed home, all a little tired and a whole lot content.

It was a great Canada Day.