Many people call me crazy, dog people call me dedicated, and my family expects my yearly odyssey in my Honda Odyssey with my Norwegian Elkhounds to national competitions.

This year’s destination – a 4,000 mile round trip to Denver – was one of the most beautiful with mountain vistas in Colorado and double rainbows after the tornado warnings in Kansas. It always amazes me that I learn something new each trip. Jinx and Obie proved great travel partners and exposed the finer points of hotel housekeeping, what lurks in parking lots and that dogs will put anything in their mouths.

When my dogs and I head for the open road, we always stay at a dog-friendly inn chain conveniently located on major highways. Jinx, with her superior hound nose, pointed out that chambermaids don’t always vacuum under the bed. Her stash of items unearthed from beneath the veil of bright red and blue bedspreads included an odd sock, a relatively fresh cheese cube, something that looked like a curly-cue worm but was made out of cake frosting and an unidentified red blob.

One important detail to pay attention to when traveling is what fast food restaurant is next to the inn parking lot. If you happen to be in Independence, Missouri next to a KFC then you shouldn’t be surprised when your dog finds those little chicken rib cages, nestled like a small fossil in the sand next to the asphalt curb. The hard part is trying to wrestle with your bare hands the discarded avian body parts out of canine jaws hell bent on swallowing the item whole.   

The one food item I want Jinx to eat is liver used to bait her for expression in the show ring. The home-baked garlic flavored brown slab kept on ice until show time. But this year, the competition was fierce and we found ourselves in a class of excellent bitches (dogs not humans). What normally would have been a five minute class dragged out for eternity. The judge was having a difficult time choosing a clear winner. And as she played the walnut shell game with placements, I dutifully fed Jinx liver like there was no tomorrow to capture her cute expression for all to see.

Just before the judge put us up for second place, I ran out of liver. Looking like a chipmunk with an acorn, I had one chunk left in my cheek that had to last. As the bait rapidly dissolved and was in danger of being added to my daily caloric intake, I become a liver pate Pez dispenser. Jinx didn’t mind the pre-digested organ meat. I’m sure it harkened back to the days of wild dogs when the mother would regurgitate wild kill for her puppies. I always wanted to get back to nature.

A Sticky Situation

My retired show champion Obie came along for protection for me … and companionship for Jinx. During the trip home, I opened his crate in the back of the van to disembark when I smelled a “minty” freshness about him. I had a “Doublemint Gum Doubles Your Pleasure” déjà vu moment. He jumped out and there on his left front pad was a big blue blob covered with his shedding hair picked up from the crate interior.

Getting gum off a dog’s pad doesn’t double my pleasure; in fact, it doubles my gross-out factor. At first I ripped the blue, gummy, fur-coated wad off his pad outside. Then in the hotel room, he was trying to get the “goo” off with his teeth. A dog’s teeth are amazing instruments, especially those front incisors. He did a good job but needed help. Luckily, I always carry my Teflon-coated trimming shears with me in my grooming box. I had to somehow convey that I wasn’t there to cut his nails, but rather to trim the “pleasure” from the paw hairs. After our wrestling match, I think Obie thanked me? 

With all that “mouthing” experience under her belt, it didn’t surprise me when a photographer approached Jinx after the show with a partially destroyed fleece slipper.

“Will she hold this in her mouth?” he asked. “She needs to look guilty because this photo will be for the ‘bad dog’ calendar.”

“No problem,” I chirped. After all those other things she found on her own, she thought herself a good hunter, excellent tracker of dead flesh and vacuum of organic matter but what she will be caught in posterity for is being a bad dog of something that a human handed her.    

Lisa Peterson, a long-time breeder of Norwegian Elkhounds, is the Director of Club Communications at the American Kennel Club. Contact her at ask@lisa-peterson.com  or Dogma Publishing, P.O. Box 307, Newtown, CT 06470.