Kyle and I share one car, which is all part of my devious plan to have him spend as many waking hours with me as possible.
When he does manage to wiggle out of my clutches, boy oh boy does it create a headache. We drove out to the town of Plum (about 40 minutes east of downtown Pittsburgh) this afternoon, and I dropped him off for a five hour bromance session fantasy football playoff draft.
Then my favorite girl and I headed out for a little trip in the car -- windows down, music on, leash in tow, the promise of a long walk ahead. Sounds like the stuff of which doggy dreams are made, right?
This photo doesn't do her behavior in the car justice. You think she looks like she's having fun, don't you?
False.
She is, in fact, panicked. That is the look of pure fear, my friends. Bailey haaaaaaates the car. I just caught her labored panting in a good moment.
We drove out to the park for a walk with Grandma (aka my mom -- we are crazy dog "parents," okay?) Then we drove back to their house. Then Bailey and I drove on the turnpike for a good 45 minutes to pick up "Dad." Then he snuggled her all the way home (as I continued driving -- what is going on? I don't drive)...
See how pathetic she looks after her long ordeal?
Also observe -- if you can see it in the dim, fuzzy lighting -- Kyle's expression as I snap this photo while driving across the Liberty Bridge. Here, let's look closer...
"What ARE you doing?"
He didn't marry me for my driving skills (RIP Audi from across the street...), so any added distractions tend to cause a mild panic.
Maybe Bailey isn't entirely off base in her fears about traveling in the car with me, after all.