Buckets of Drool

Coach is not a fan of the car. I recall a story that my parents told about driving from Florida to Los Angeles with me in the car when I was a wee child.  You can imagine how long that trip took.  Every morning, getting into the car and driving and driving and driving.  Then getting out of the car, only to get back into the car the next morning. For a little one, it was excruciating.

At some point, I decided that I had had enough of the car.  I think we had finally made it to Los Angeles,  and were in our apartment and were just going out to dinner, but I had reached my car boiling point.  As we rounded the corner and the convertible came into my sight, I started screaming and crying, perhaps I even threw myself onto the sidewalk.  Yes, I threw a fit! However, I do believe we ate somewhere within walking distance.

Now, I am being punished for such histrionics.  Coach is not fond of the car. He has a tendency to puke.  We think we have the puking solved by not feeding him breakfast until I get him to work.  That has worked quite well.  However, the poor boy is quite a drool machine. It just kills me to see him so drooly.  Mostly, he just hunkers up near the air-conditioning and I keep it blasted on high for him.

Photo of Coach in the car with three strings of drool dripping off his muzzle.

After an errand, as we round a corner and the car comes into sight, he has a tendency to throw himself down on the floor in a rather dramatic fashion(only without the screaming and crying and kicking, for which I am grateful!). At this point, I usually just pick him up and put him in the car.  If I have time, I will work on cajoling him closer to the car.  Sunday at Frenchy's, he did this in front of three passers-by.  They all stared at me like I was taking Coach to his doom.

"He doesn't like the car.  We're working on it." They all smiled (thankfully). Two of them walked away.  One stayed to watch the show as I tried to get Coach closer to the car.

"He really doesn't like the car?"

"Nope. But he will."

I looked down at my drooling, calm and quiet little man. "He will." I said softly and patted him on the head.  Then I blasted the air-conditioning.