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It’s possible our RoadDog learned a lesson this summer.

I say it’s possible, because I’m not really sure if the lesson sunk in or not, but from a human perspective it was sort of obvious and really funny.

It happened when we were visiting P.E.I. We stopped to check out the Orwell Corner Historic Village, a place somewhat like Ross Farm. It’s a beautiful spot, not too far from Charlottetown, well worth a visit if you happen to be on the island.

After seeing the store and gardens and blacksmith shop, we headed towards the barns. For some reason, Jake took exception to several ducks gathered in a pen attached to a poultry coop. He started to growl and then barked a few times, something he almost never does (except when I don’t get his dinner on the plate fast enough, but that’s a totally different sound). He strained on his leash and rushed toward the ducks, which took cover inside the coop.

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Steve and I gently scolded Jake for chasing the ducks, although I have to admit we were laughing, mostly because it was so out of character for our boy. I looked through a window in the chicken coop and saw a not-too-happy rooster and warned Jake not to mess with the poultry again.

What I probably should have said is never take on the small animals just in case there’s some sort of communication going on and the bigger animals find out.

Our next stop was a barn where we looked into a stall of pigs and continued walking along. I was carrying Jake so he wouldn’t get into anything messy (it was a barn and our boy does like anything that smells bad), when a goat suddenly popped its head up with its hoofs on the side of the stall. It didn’t startle me exactly, but Jake certainly was not expecting it. He looked at the goat and the goat looked at him and neither one was really too sure about the other.

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Poor Jake only got more confused from that point forward, since the next building was a horse barn. Once more in my arms, or maybe I hadn’t put him down, our Cairn came face to face with a very large equine. The horse was a very docile creature, no doubt accustomed to two and four-legged visitors, but Jake was not used to meeting up with anything the size of a horse. He didn’t shy away, but it was pretty obvious from the expression on his face that he was not too sure about the situation.

He didn’t bark or growl at that horse at all.

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Okay, so I’ll admit right away that I really should have called this blog something like “Overcoming our fears,” but then I’d have to admit to having them. I’d really rather write about expanding horizons. It just seems better some how.

So, I wrote last week about our trip to P.E.I. and Cape Breton. Let me say again that it was absolutely fantastic. It was one of those reminders that you don’t really have to travel far from home to feel like you’ve gotten away from it all. It was so relaxing, yet so much fun at that same time. It was really hard to come back home and back to our real world.

But the decision to go to P.E.I. was not an easy one for me. Here comes the part when I have to admit to an almost-fear. I don’t like bridges. Now I’m not really, really afraid of them. I’ve travelled with someone in the past who was legitimately terrified of going over bridges and I wouldn’t want to imply that I feel the same way she does about them. I’m not really afraid of them, I just don’t like them. I don’t like to walk over them. I don’t like to drive over them. I don’t like to look down and see the water. I don’t like the way some of them shake as you pass over them.

Now, in case you haven’t yet put two and two together, let me remind you that there are two ways to get to P.E.I. on a motorcycle — one is a ferry and the other is the 13-kilometre Confederation Bridge, which, to date, so far in my bridge experiences, is the mother of all bridges.

Your next question would likely be “why not take the ferry?” The answer, like so many other answers in our lives, is Jake. According to the ferry’s website, all dogs must be put in provided kennels during ferry crossings. We would never leave our beloved Cairn in his carrier on the back of Steve’s bike in the bowels of a ferry for more than an hour. Nor do we want to put him in an unfamiliar ferry kennel unless we absolutely have to. Hence my bridge dilemma.

But, as Steve pointed out to me the night before we left for P.E.I., I’ll do it for my boys and our vacation. And I did. And it wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t great, but it wasn’t so bad. It may have been the longest 13 kilometres of our vacation, but it was okay. In fact, if I did it again anytime soon, my stomach might be settled enough that I might even be able to eat a Cows ice cream when I got to Gateway Village on the P.E.I. side of the bridge.

And you may notice that I didn’t count the 13 kilometres on the way back from the island, not because we didn’t take the bridge again, but because the second time was easier. That same day, I also crossed the causeway to Cape Breton (which is a lot like a bridge) and went through three roundabouts (which I also don’t like). It was a large day, definitely a day of expanding horizons.

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We’re back!

Sorry to miss posting a blog last week everyone, but we’ve been on V-A-C-A-T-I-O-N. I didn’t say anything in advance because I tried that last year and it pretty much rained every second day for two solid weeks. This time I thought I’d try to sneak up on Mother Nature when she wasn’t paying attention and, guess what, it worked. With the exception of one day when we got soaked to the skin — yes I mean that literally, it rained so hard Steve and I got wet through our rain gear (Jake, of course, stayed dry under his rain cover) — we had great weather and a fantastic time.

After about 10 days on P.E.I. and in Cape Breton (yes I finally rode the Cabot Trail on my own bike), I have all kinds of RoadDog adventures to share. Jake is such a trooper. We put about 2,800 kilometres on the bikes and he was there for every one of them, not to mention all the walking and sightseeing. He just loved it and was always ready for the next ride or the next walk or the next adventure. Then he’d crash in whatever motel room or cottage we were staying in until the next time.

He met all kinds of people, some who came to see the dog riding on the back of the motorcycle and others who stopped to say hello when we were walking in different places. He ate more than a few Timbits and an occasional spoonful of ice cream, even a small piece of lobster from a sandwich here and there. Oh, and there was a slice of a steak one night when we barbecued at our cottage in Montague. (What better way to make sure that Jake has a good time than to make sure his tummy is happy.)

Jake also saw P.E.I. for the first time, stopped at a winery, and got a bit in touch with his Scottish heritage in Cape Breton. He chased some geese and met a goat and a horse (I’ll tell you more about that in a future post). He even chilled by taking a couple of dips, once in a stream in the Highlands and another along a river bank. He was so funny, walking into the water up to his belly making weird little grunting noises and then shaking like he was trying to get the water off even though he was still standing in the water. Yet he’d do it again and again and again.

It was quite a trip!

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So we went to Yarmouth for the bike rally that wasn’t and had a really great time. Really!

As I mentioned last week, Steve and I had planned to attend the Sou’Wester International Bike Rally on the last weekend in July. Friends had been there last year and said it was really good, so we decided just a few weeks before to attend. We booked a dog-friendly room and were all set to go.

Then came word just over two weeks before the rally that organizers were cancelling it this year. I don’t know why. I guess it really doesn’t matter. We decided we’d go to Yarmouth anyway, we’d just take more time stopping at places along the way, spend the night there and travel to the Valley on Sunday. I did some checking and discovered Seafest was going on and some of the events our friends had described were really part of that festival rather than the rally anyway.

Our time in Yarmouth was fantastic. Our hotel was downtown so we were able to wander around the waterfront as much as we liked. There were lots of people around and there was musical entertainment. We really enjoyed the fishing boats which were decorated wharfside for the evening parade of lights in the harbour. (Well, Steve and I enjoyed them. Jake was far too busy looking at all the people and sniffing all around the wharf to really notice the boats.)

Steve and I then left Jake in our room, happily napping in his carrier, while we went to Rudder’s for dinner. I gather a meal at Rudder’s is sort of like a right of passage when you visit Yarmouth. The place was packed with people having a great time, including a guy from California at the next table who also rides a bike, and the food was fantastic. Our wonderful waitress even manage to stash a piece of strawberry cream pie somewhere until we were ready to eat it. Yum!

We went back for Jake and returned to the wharf to watch the boats. We saw a few of them with their pretty lights, but eventually gave up before the actual parade. It had been a long day and we were all getting pretty tired. Jake had pretty much crashed on my shoulder by that point and I was too tired to lug around a 20-pound Cairn.

It was a great day all around. I’m already looking forward to going back next year, with or without the bike rally.

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