Ok, Lewis didn’t really get to go on vacation with us last week.  For him, it was more like boarding school.  As with anything related to this gargantuan growler, much thought goes into any decision related to his whereabouts.  You just can’t leave this guy on anyone’s doorstep.  First of all, he might chew the doorstep clean off, and second, he doesn’t do well with change and could make a break for it:

But in all fairness to Lewis, we went through the checklist of what-ifs to see if he was travel eligible.  The immediate problem was where in the world to put him during the five-hour drive.  He obviously takes up a lot of real estate, which would negate taking any luggage for the humans, or cooler (an adult refreshment must!), and most importantly, a 50-lb bag of dog food.  Yes, they make U-Haul trailers, but that scenario seems completely contrary to the concept of vacation.

Next issue in the queue, how would Lewis do in a beach environment?  I honestly didn’t consider this one until I got to the beach.  I then thought about all of the trash Lewis’ coat drags into the house – mulch, sticks, leaves, and of course, dirt.  It was a short leap in logic to change yard trash in the equation to ugh, sand.  One romp on the beach and into the water would transform him from nice doggy to a FEMA sandbag.

Finally, where to stay.  We have always stayed in the same place for years, so we are rather partial to it.  Their no pets policy is an immediate obstacle, however.  But anything for Lewis you know.  We could change to another location if we could get permission for one extra hairy guest.  I can see how those conversations go:

Me:  Do you take pets:

Agent:  No

Me:  But he’s really a nice dog and well behaved (ok, a white lie). Couldn’t you…

Agent:  NO!

Me to second agent:  Do you take pets?

Second agent:  Yes.

Me:  Great!  Any restrictions?

Second agent: No more than three dogs. (This is where I hold my breath, like watching the drawing of lottery numbers on TV) ….and then the dreaded words come out – no more than 40 pounds each (dang it, the same luck I have at the lottery drawing).

Me:  I have only one dog, but would it be possible to combine all that weight into one pup?

Second agent:  No.

Me:  But he’s really a nice dog and well behaved (ok, another white lie). Couldn’t you…

Second agent:  NO!

Sorry, Lew Lew, you have to stay here.  Daycare we call it, but for a week-long stay, we call it boarding school.  And to be honest, he loves it there, and they certainly love him.  He’s a star there, appearing on their website:

As much as he loves it there, after a week, he’s ready to go home.  We pick him up, and it’s obvious he knows it’s a jailbreak!  As one of his BFFs on the staff brings him in from the back, he busts through the doors in all his 140-pound stardom, stops at us to make sure this was no joke, and then proceeds to stiff arm (stiff paw?) the front door like a furry Heisman trophy.  Straight to the car and up the ramp.  I know I heard him say, “Home, James.”  And off we go, together again.  As we pull into the driveway, he jumps up, ready to dismount.

And with vacation week over and boarding school behind him, Lewis prances through the gate and into the house.

As I turned to get out of the car, I must admit I was so glad to be back home together with my dog.  And then it hit me, a dog hair rested squarely across my nose in front of both eyes.

Elvis was back in the building.

Footnote:  Many, many thanks to Patton Chapel Animal Clinic for always taking care of our beloved Lewis, and all of our family animals for 35 years.  They are the best!