We pulled up to the booth at the New York/Canada border. We were on our way to visit my mom, who had just had knee replacement surgery. Our dogs Kelly and Ike, in the back seat, tried to stick their noses out the car window at the border officer.
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“Do you have the dogs’ records?” he asked, peering in at us.
We did. We’d made especially sure to bring along the proper rabies vaccination documentation and health papers.
Because one time, 32 years ago, we hadn’t.
My husband and I had just been married. We were driving to Montreal for our honeymoon. At the last minute, our puppy-sittter had backed out on us. So our 4-month old Dalmatian, Schuyler, came along.
I recalled the time that border officer had questioned us.
“May I see your immunization records?”
“Oh dear, I didn’t know I’d need them. I’m sure I’m up to date, though,” I stammered. “I just had a check-up.”
“Not yours. The dog’s.” The officer scowled.
Schuyler scratched at his crate door. Mike smiled at the officer hopefully. “Oh, he’s had his puppy shots, but we don’t have the papers with us.” He laughed lightly. “We weren’t planning on bringing our dog on our honeymoon.”
It didn’t matter. The officer wasn’t interested. “He needs a rabies shot,” the man said.
“Sir, it’ll be taken care of,” Mike replied. “He’s scheduled for one back home with our vet.”
“Just get him a rabies shot now, or you can’t take the dog across the border.”
So we backtracked to the nearest veterinarian and had him administer a rabies shot, then headed back to the border. This time it was smooth sailing.
Our romantic honeymoon, however, wasn’t exactly as planned. We couldn’t leave the room, because our dog howled and cried. Dinner that night? Room service. And our wedding night was certainly cozy as Schuyler squeezed his chubby little body between us and snored peacefully.
At the end of the weekend, we headed home. Once, Schuyler joined us in the front seat of the parked car as we sipped takeout cups of cocoa from a nearby restaurant. He wriggled until he found just the right position and fell asleep. Mike gave me a kiss, and we held hands.
At that moment, it was perfect; just being there together with the wonderful man I’d married, and our warm spotted puppy snuggled up on the car seat between us. I wouldn’t have dreamed it, but yes, it was even romantic.
Portions excerpted from “Puppy Love” by Peggy Frezon in Chicken Soup for the Soul, The Dog Did What?
