Five Star Dog, Three Star Hotel

Like many dogs, Harls hates fireworks. Every July 4th we’ve been together we end up crushed in the bedroom closet while I try to muffle the explosions with the week’s laundry. It is not comfortable or cute. Some years are worse than others and in spite of the law against fireworks in Seattle, explosions go on well into the night. We are guaranteed to be robbed of a night’s sleep or two, and Harls’ firework anxiety has sucked the fun out of American Independence Day.

This year (2019) I decided to get the hell out of town and go somewhere to get away from the noise. Chelan County is a no fireworks county and in the city of Leavenworth — a faux alpine village in the Cascades — the law is either strictly enforced or well observed or both. A city modeled on a culture obsessed with beer gardens is dog friendly by default and many of the hotels are just as accommodating, with pet friendly rooms at an extra $20.00 night.

(As the companion to a low impact dog, I wonder what that extra $20.00 pays for. I guarantee you there are humans who have left a room in greater and more disgusting disarray than my dog.)

I tried to book a condo or cabin, but there were none open within city limits, plus, their owners could not guarantee our stay would be fireworks free. We opted for a hotel in town, the Fairbridge Inn & Suites. I packed a bottle of bourbon, my ukulele, treats and a blanket for Harley, and we headed east for some quiet. I clipped H. into his seatbelt harness and he spent much of the two and a half hour drive intensely focused on napping.

We took a short break just over Stevens Pass to stretch our legs and were immediately greeted with “Oooooh! Puppy!” by a fellow traveler, setting the tone for much of our adventure. H and I have logged plenty of road trip miles but we’ve never taken a “girl and her dog” vacation, just the two of us. I am not a cynical traveler, but I did not expect strangers to be so very friendly. And they were, everywhere, neighboring guests at the hotel, patrons at the next table (always on the patio) at restaurants, the staffers, random kids on the street… we were never short on company and could have had much more if we’d wanted it. With Harls at my side, people always had an opener, and they took it.

Harley did not like the hotel room. We have stayed in one other place he did not like, an Airbnb in Eugene, Oregon, where he would not relax. I suspect we were too close to the rail yard; there was a constant low rumble, not nearly loud enough to bother humans but perhaps upsetting to a small dog’s super-canine hearing. To be fair, I didn’t think much of our hotel room either. The fridge rattled, I couldn’t get the window to open, and the A/C unit was one of those wall mounted things that makes you decide if a tolerable room temperature is worth the roaring engine noise. (It’s not.) Harley settled in okay if we were both in the room, but he pulled away from the door every time we returned from our outings and once, I had to pick him up and carry him inside. The Fairbridge is a solid mid-range hotel, clean but a little tired, with your standard breakfast buffet, too close to the arterial to be truly quiet, but fine. I’d book again in a pinch, but I think Harley would object.

In Leavenworth, we took long walks along the river and through town, stopping frequently to smell things (Harley), look at birds (me) and generally admire the setting. Leavenworth is surrounded by mountains and if you squint enough to obscure the signs (Wells Fargo, Subway Sandwiches, Starbucks) you really can imagine you’re in a European alpine village. We ate at the dog friendly Leavenworth Sausage Garten, Yodelin, Good Mood Food, and we zipped up to Milepost 111 in Cashmere, too. I had to leave Harls outside to get coffee from the Gingerbread Factory but the only reason I did not find a dog friendly coffee place was the holiday — it was July 4th and dog accommodating places were closed.

I do not need to take my dog everywhere and I am lucky in that he is super chill when left behind — though he will cry if he can see me from where I’ve tied him up outside a shop. I joke Harls is “self-crating” because of what he does when I leave him alone — he gets in his crate (or his bed) and stays there. I understand there are people who do not like dogs, who are afraid of them, or think they’re icky. I also understand some dogs have less than attentive humans; they allow excessive barking or let their dogs get into other people’s business without asking if it’s okay. I try hard to be a good human to my dog and I expect the same from Harley.

I do like the idea of it being easier to travel with Harley, of finding more Harley-friendly places to visit. I had been putting off taking him camping because he can get barky around other dogs when he’s on his leash. But he did so well this trip I think we are ready to embark (heh) on some next level travel. I enjoyed all the off the cuff conversations started because my dog — specifically his one floppy ear — is so cute. I liked how his quiet companionship changed the vibe of my generic hotel room from “depressed runaway mid-life crisis” to “heartbroken country western singer on the road with her best friend.*” I loved the incentive to get up early and go for a walk (truly, this is one of the best things about living with a dog).

It can feel like there’s an implied question when you’re a woman traveling alone; that question is “Why?” A woman traveling alone with a dog is not perceived as traveling alone in the same way. With Harls as my companion, the question is bulldozed by Can I Pet Him How Old Is He Do You Know What Kind Of Dog He Is OMG Look At That Ear. It’s nice. I liked it. I think Harls did too.

I can’t wait to take him on another adventure.

*It was not working; J. decided to go back to Austria. The heartbreak part is all too real.