Secrets You Only Tell Your Friends

17 Dec

I’ve been harboring a nasty little secret from this blog.

My dog is downright awful in the car.

I’m talking never sits down, crying like a banshee, infuriatingly bad, not at all funny, awful.

I can’t make it better.

Nothing works.

Believe me when I say, we’ve tried it all. Free reign, seats folded down, doggie seat belts, doggie hammock, benadryl (don’t judge me), a dog companion, sitting in the back seat with him, forcing someone else to sit in the back seat with him, all natural pet calmer downer spray, thunder shirt, extended physical activity, bones, taking him everywhere in the car, Sting (his favorite) on repeat, peanut butter filled kongs, treats (I wrote threats first, Freudian slip) at regular intervals, yelling, exuding calmness and our current favorite, the back seat dog cage. The cage had been working to at least keep his high pitched squealing contained in the back area of our car, so that we could drown him out with music and the sun roof.

This last weekend, I took a mini road trip to visit a friend and happily pick up the new addition to the Phillips’ household in the form of a fuzzy, cute, gray tabby kitten. Prior to our Friday trip, he had a three hour hike, but was still squirmy and loud during our afternoon ride to the city. Squirmy and loud, I can handle. On Saturday morning, after playing all night, then taking a nice, long walk, we got back into the car to pick up our new friend. Homeboy. Was. Pissed. He hated driving to Newbury street on one of the last Saturday shopping days of the season. He hated all the random double parked cars. He hated the mean old cop who wrote me a ticket and yelled at me, while I waited for my friends with the donated cat to bring said cat to my car. And he especially hated the way back seat away from all the action.

We all know Tex like cats, but truthfully, I don’t think he knew she was in the car. She never made one peep and he didn’t seem interested in the cat carrier in my front seat.

As we’re weaving through Boston traffic, to get to 93 so that we could meet my lovely mother and exchange “the goods”, MacGyver decides to pop the lock on my foldable back seats. As I’m merging on to 93, he proceeds to maneuver himself through the bars of  his dog cage and the crack of the seats he’s folded down and perch himself atop all my backseat luggage (I’m sorry, I don’t travel light, even for a single overnight). From there he rests his  head on my head rest (he’s that far up) and gives me a look that I can only describe as victorious.

Infuriated with this turn of events, I drop Tex off in Lincoln, Rhode Island (the half way point on Saturday’s trip) with his grandparents and force poor, Eric, who’s driven to upstate MA for a work event to pick up the bad dog on his way home, while I continued my journey with Kitty.

I left the brilliant specimen of a dog cage in Lincoln, with the bad dog and sure enough, upon installation in Eric’s car, bad dog once again, won.

And in case you were wondering what winning looks like, here’s a video Eric took:

But alas, the trip was successful and Kitty now has the greatest home, ever and I am very happy to report that A & G are no longer animal-less.

New Kitty

Kitty helping with a Photoshop project.


3 Responses to “Secrets You Only Tell Your Friends”

  1. gordonphillips December 17, 2012 at 9:30 pm #

    He looks very happy in the front seat.

  2. Nancy Shulins December 17, 2012 at 11:26 pm #

    SO CUTE! What a great daughter! Look at it this way: You did a good thing badly. Wait, that didn’t come out quite right…


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