Meet Toby.
Weighing in at a thick twenty-five pounds of black and white fluff, Toby is a half toy-poodle, half springer spaniel mix. To call my dog a nervous nelly and a pampered baby might be giving him a bit too much credit. His laundry list of fears includes, but is not limited to, garbage cans, hair dryers, vacuums, water hoses, strange sounds, strange smells, and his own farts. He is a certified Velcro-dog, and in his six and a half years of life has only lived in a house with a yard for one fleeting summer. That was part of my motivation—in some sick maternal way—to take Toby on his very first camping road trip.
I must start off by saying that of all of Toby’s fears, cars are, surprisingly, not one of them. He will wag his whole body whenever it’s time to get in one, all the way down to his little docked tail. This to say that the morning we headed out, he was more excited than he likely would have been if he knew what was coming.
And off to Oregon We Go
The first day ended after eight hours of driving to get to eastern Oregon. It was the longest car ride Toby has ever been on, and I believe somewhere along the way he resigned himself to his new reality. He slept some, climbed on and off various bags in the back of the car, and yet still popped up at every bathroom stop as excited as he had been at the stop before.
When we finally set up camp that first night, it was the perfect “warm up” area. In a National Forest nestled between two hills, I, my friend Lyza, and the dog, had an entire campsite all to ourselves. There, Toby was free to sniff to his little heart’s content. Though, sometimes he would simply stand and stare at me with something like… expectation. Or rather, interest. I couldn’t be happier with the start of our road trip–aside from when my sweet baby boy decided to howl at a chipmunk jumping in the woods somewhere as we were trying to sleep.
The Best of Toby and the Worst of Toby
After another six-hour drive on our second day, we arrived at our coastal beach camp in Newport, Oregon. It was there that I got to see two versions of Toby: the one inside his comfort zone, and the one far, far outside of it.
I say this with the utmost love in my heart for my little dog, but I will laugh for the rest of my life thinking about his reaction to seeing the ocean for the first time. We were on a sandy beach at low tide. The fog had rolled in, obscuring the waves until we walked close enough, at which point it was the tree line that was obscured. Toby trotted alongside me, loose on his leash and happy as a clam. Until a wave rolled in. The first true ocean wave he had ever encountered… and Toby nearly jumped straight out of his harness.
Like sleeping in the noise-exposed tent, the unknown ocean served only to freak my little doggy out. But never to worry, his adventure was not one long instigation of fight-or-flight. While also at Newport, this time in a chilly morning fog, we went to another beach. Where the first beach was flat and popular, this one was a stretch of rolling dunes interspersed with seaweed and populated only by California gulls at the flat area before the waves. This time, I let Toby run unleashed.
I’ve always enjoyed watching dogs watch the world. Especially the confident ones, when they’re sniffing and exploring, show unmatched eager excitement. For Toby, that excitement comes when he’s running. He raced up and down the dunes with those little legs of his, circling out and checking back in, and never straying too far. As he kicked up sand behind him in a full sprint, I could see an undeniable joy on his puppy-at-heart face.
Bravery in the Eye of the Beholder
Though Lyza and I packed a ton of fun things into our weeklong road trip, there were two more experiences with Toby that stood out.
It needs no restating, but my dog is not entirely a brave one. After subjecting him to the up-close ocean visit, we decided then to visit a cobble beach. When Lyza went ahead to explore the tide pool, I opted to hang back with Toby so he could sit on a large, secure rock. I was waiting, happily watching the gulls and puffins and a pair of seals in the water, when I felt a sudden tug on the leash. Toby, of his own unprompted accord, had braved the cobbles. Those water worn stones were slick and loose. I could see Toby’s legs shaking as he found his balance, and even I had trouble navigating them as I trailed after. Yet not before long the little guy was confident on his paws, traversing his way to explore the beach.
Later—after a brief intermission at a pet-friendly motel in Corvallis—we found ourselves at another Forest Service campsite just outside of Gold Beach, right on a river. We were farther from the coastline, and it was pleasantly warm. So of course, as we couldn’t get enough bodies of water, a swim was in order. The short section of the river we staked was again all to ourselves, and I had no worry about letting Toby off-leash and within eyesight (just don’t tell the ranger). He came into the still water just enough for it to get up to his chest—and halfway up my shins. But as I waded in farther, he stayed close to shore. I was content to let him; sure, he’d be too nervous to wander off. Imagine my surprise, then, when I turned to shore, now waist-deep in, and saw Toby swimming straight towards me.
Toby’s only experience swimming has been one other time practicing the instinctual doggy-paddle. Yet he swam out into that river three whole times. Granted, as soon as he swam out to Lyza and me, he immediately doubled back towards shore and where his paws could reach. And in between each time he sat half in the water, shivering, teeth chattering, and half whining for us to come back to him.
And thus, the Story Went
Why do I care to write all this? Beyond just a trip review and chance to gush about my dog, the entire trip I couldn’t help but marvel at the breadth of emotions and reactions such a little creature can have. Joy, excitement, trepidation, curiosity, anxiety, bravery. I saw them all at once, in that moment at Newport’s sea lion pier, as he gazed at the strange creatures before him—his thoughts a mystery I could never capture, no matter how hard I tried. What I do know is that I hope we all can live a little like he does: to live in the moment, take the adventure as it comes, be a little brave, and take a good long nap when we get home.
