Dog days

Moving again! Will there be iguana poop to roll in?

The day we arrived in Costa Rica back in June 2010, the pet transport agent with whom we had contracted to deliver our beloved dog Sprocket arrived at our hotel with what appeared to be a pooch who had deftly coped with the stress of two flights - Chicago to Houston then
Houston to San Jose. The operative word there is appeared. Little did we know that what lie beneath that cool beagle façade was an extremely
anxious canine who, as Leonard and I stepped out for our first meal as Central American expatriates, was himself feasting on food stuffs that we had "muled in" for delivery to a couple of fellow expats. Exhausted from our own travel experience, we returned from dinner ready for a good night's rest in preparation for the next day's drive to our rental casita some 90 minutes away. Instead, we found Sprocket standing atop our hotel bed amidst a pile of fat-free, sugar-free pudding mix laced with tiny bits of cardboard that were once pudding boxes. It would be the first in a series of events marking Sprocket's transition from suburban Chicago dog to rural Costa Rican perro.

Fast forward to May 2013. Seeing as how the best predictor of future behavior is past behavior, Leonard and I should have known that unless we changed our training methods, both canine and
owners were likely to repeat our earlier mistakes. In our quest for independence, meaning that Leonard and I could leave the 5th-wheel without worrying about what creative outlets our pet might have discovered to relieve his separation anxiety, we forced the transition process,
ultimately setting us all up for failure.

Not that we're total idiots. We did our share of research on pet RV living. The overwhelming consensus there is that once an animal sees your mobile dwelling as its home, he/she will behave just as he/she had while occupying a brick-and-mortar abode. Armed with this assurance, we watched for signs that our boy was adapting.

Our first outing lasted about an hour. Sprocket seemed fine, though there were tell-tale signs that he'd spent a good bit of time pacing across the upholstered furniture. No big deal, really, as couch hopping is a favorite activity among beagles everywhere.

Looks like someone took the word "exit" to heart. Note
the detached screen tab and slight tear (upper left).

The second time we left the dog home, we returned to find the following: 1) claw marks on top of the dresser, accessible only by leaping from the nearby bed; 2) dried doggie drool on every wood surface in the RV; and 3) a screen with its plastic removal tab yanked out and just the slightest hint of a tear in the screen. Okay, now what?

At this point, I should mention that
we've been traveling with a wire dog crate since our stay at what Leonard now refers to as the "Daze Inn" in Dallas. Wondering why we weren't using it? After that second episode we asked ourselves
that same question and came up with the only explanation that made any sense: we're lazy. It seems we thought it easier to search the retail centers of southwest Topeka hoping to find scratch-masking furniture polish than to spend a few hours teaching Sprocket the finer points of life in confined quarters.

The perpetrator returns to the crime scene.

Crate training has had its share of ups-and-downs. In what can only be described as the doggie equivalent of "flipping the bird," our dear boy chewed
up his recently-acquired bedding just enough to get some attention. Fortunately, subsequent crate sessions have gone more smoothly.

In light of these recent events, I find myself wondering if it was such a
good idea to turn down the offer made by our Topeka vet to give us some "doggie Prozac." Next time I see her, maybe I should ask what dose I should be taking (just to be safe).