Dog's Life: Travel
Go west, and take your dog along.
Hankering for a taste of the Old West? Want to take your canine companion along on a fun-filled and unique summer vacation? Consider a dog-friendly dude ranch. More dude ranches—or guest ranches, as most are now called—are catering to those of us who can’t imagine a vacation without our dogs. Each has different rules and expectations for dogs, so contact any ranch you’re considering visiting and speak to them about the specifics of their dog-friendly policy before setting out, and ask about extra fees. Make sure you and your dog will enjoy the setting; you want a fun, yet safe, stay.
There’s something so elemental and special about heading down a trail on horseback, your dog happily trotting alongside. If your dog is fit and well-behaved, and won’t chase the horses or wildlife, he or she is the perfect dude ranch candidate. Even the older, more retiring canine can still enjoy these ranches, staying behind while you ride, joining you later for a swim or stroll, far from the hustle and bustle of the city.
Don’t ride horses? That’s fine; most guest ranches offer a multitude of activities, from fly fishing and rock climbing to hiking or hanging out by the lake or pool. You might even learn to square dance! And don’t forget the down-home, family-style meals.
Flying U Guest Ranch Situated in British Columbia’s gorgeous Cariboo region, the Flying U is the only guest ranch in North America that allows unsupervised riding on 40,000 acres of aspen-dotted forests and meadows. Well-mannered dogs are welcome, off leash, in the cabin and lodge area as well as on your rides. This rustic yet comfortable resort also offers canoeing, swimming and fishing. Recently purchased by Mauritz and Enka from South Africa, the dog-friendly policy will continue. (Read about the author’s 2004 visit here.)
Sundance Trail Guest Ranch At this relaxed high-country getaway, set at 8,000 feet near Red Feather Lakes, Colo., canine guests may be off-leash as long as they get along with kids, horses, goats, sheep and other dogs. While trail rides here are supervised, owner Ellen Morin says, “We’re not a nose-to-tail outfit. Groups are small—no more than five riders per wrangler,” so each group rides at its own best pace. Is your dog a little pokey? Borrow a crate and let him snooze safely in your room while you’re riding.
The Resort at Paws Up If you and your canine companion are looking for a few days of pampering, this is the place. Located in the Clearwater Valley outside of Missoula, Mont., this resort offers wilderness rides, fly fishing, rafting and mountain biking. Try glamping—glamorous camping—featuring five-star amenities in a huge canvas tent! Dogs inspired the resort’s name, so of course they’re welcome, indulged with the “last best doggie bed” and their own stylish Paws Up collar and leash.
At the end of your dude ranch stay, all of your cheeks will be sore—those on your butt from bouncing in the saddle, and those on your face from grinning ear to ear as you watch your dog have the time of her life.
Dog's Life: Lifestyle
Travel provides opportunity
My dog life is very America-centric. I have not owned dogs anywhere but in this country, nor have I taught dog training classes elsewhere. Except for the occasional seminar in Canada and some ad hoc consultations in Nicaragua and Costa Rica, my canine experiences are confined to the United States.
This summer promises many lessons because my family will be spending the entire season in Western Europe. So far, what I know about dogs in that part of the world is that they are not spayed and neutered at nearly the rate of dogs here, there is some evidence that they live a little longer, and they are rarely vaccinated against rabies because that disease has been essentially eradicated in the region. I also know that a lot of canine research is currently being conducted in Europe.
Based on the limited level of knowledge that is my starting point, it is exceedingly likely that I will be getting quite an education during our travels. I look forward to everything from observing how people interact with their dogs in different countries to meeting new breeds to seeing how dogs behave in public and what is expected of them.
For those of you who have personal experience with dogs in Europe, please tell me what pleasures you expect await me. All advice about observing and enjoying dogs in countries that are (mostly) new to me is welcome!
I’ll be spending a month each in Scotland and Germany, plus making short excursions to Ireland, Austria, Switzerland, the Czech Republic and possibly Poland. The trip is for my husband’s work, and we expect him to be busy. That puts me on full-time duty as recreation director for our kids. I’ve never taken such a long hiatus from work (not even after the births of the children) so this promises to be a new experience. I will miss, among many other aspects of my professional life, blogging here for The Bark. I’m already looking forward to resuming that when we return in August!
Dog's Life: Lifestyle
Should your dog come with you?
My family visited Yosemite National Park over spring break this year, and I was pleasantly surprised to see that a large number of families brought their dogs along on their vacations. Of course, I’m completely accustomed to people traveling with their canine family members, but I haven’t been to Yosemite since I was a child, and things seem to have changed. While there are still a lot of limitations on dogs in our national parks, it is easier to bring them along than it used to be.
In Yosemite, dogs are allowed in developed areas, on paved trails unless signs specifically indicate that they’re not allowed and in most campgrounds. They are only allowed on the floor of Yosemite Valley, which means that they can’t go on the vast majority of hikes in the park, since most of them involve hiking up towards waterfalls or to reach various lookouts. They can walk to the bottom of Yosemite Falls, which is certainly a classic Yosemite experience. Dogs have to be in a crate or on a leash no longer than 6 feet in length at all times, and are not allowed inside buildings.
If you are considering taking your dog on a trip to a national park, do your research first to decide if it’s the best plan for you and your family. Of course, all the reasons to take your dog with you are obvious. It’s great to have them with you, and it’s often no fun to leave them behind—for them or for you. On the other hand, bringing your dog will limit what you can do considerably. If you want a few easy walks in the park or will mainly be driving and enjoying the park from lookouts or in a campground, then a dog-inclusive vacation will likely suit you. If you want to explore remote regions of the park or hike the most scenic trails, your dog will be a barrier to that experience.
It’s worth considering the risks to your dogs of coming along with you to a national park. The danger of attack by wild animal or contracting contagious diseases from wildlife are relatively small, but it’s worth assessing that risk for the particular park you have in mind. Fleas and ticks are a concern as they are in all wild areas, so a prevention plan is important. More likely to be a problem for some dogs is being uncomfortable in a new area. If your dog is a happy-go-lucky type who is completely content in any situation as long as you and the food are around, then this is not an issue. If your dog struggles with new situations and places or in the presence of strangers, the national parks and the crowds they involve may make the vacation stressful for your dog.
The dog friendliness of national parks varies considerably, and only a few welcome dogs wholeheartedly. Yosemite is probably at the lower end for canine opportunities, but Acadia National Park allows dogs almost everywhere, including all trails except those few with ladders or other obstacles. Similarly, Shenandoah National Park allows dogs on over 95% of its trails, and the restricted ones all require rock climbing or other challenges.
Has your dog vacationed in a national park?
Dog's Life: Travel
Florida attracts visitors year round, but the winter and spring seasons are especially inviting. On the northeastern shoreline—known as the “quiet side”—Palm Coast and Flagler County deserve special mention for their dog-friendliness. This stretch of oceanfront has a laid-back, smalltown flavor; unlike other coastal areas, the beaches are uncluttered by cars or buildings—no high-rise hotels here! Hiking opportunities abound, with more than 100 miles of trails. Plus, the longest designated scenic highway on the East Coast—the A1A Scenic Coastal Highway—passes through, so there’s always a reason to take a ride and see the sights. The tourism folks offer other tips on planning your “dog-cation,” with a list of activities that includes paddle boarding; hikes along the eight-mile-long Lehigh Trail (part of an abandoned 195-acre railroad corridor); and visits to the popular Wadsworth Park, where you can meet up with the locals at its fenced dog park, which has separate areas for large and small dogs. A must-stop for nature enthusiasts is the 1,500-acre Princess Place Preserve in the northern part of the county. Its many scenic viewpoints provide lots of places to catch a sunset. (Wild hogs and alligators also call it home, so best to keep your pup on leash.) Among the affordable accommodations with dog-welcoming policies are Whale Watch Motel and Fairfield Inn and Suites. Or, if you’re interested in private rentals, try vacationrental pros.com; for camping recommendations, check floridastateparks.org. For good eats, there’s Johnny D’s Beach Bar & Grill, Flagler Fish Company or the High Tides at Snack Jacks. Finally, make it a point to stop by the Bark Spot, the local dog boutique. Palmcoastandtheflaglerbeaches.com
Dog's Life: Travel
A magical late-winter carnival in Rottweil, Germany.
Cradling mugs of ale and sporting goofy grins, the citizenry of Rottweil in southwestern Germany weave through the streets, planting kisses on one another’s cold cheeks and hooting in a cartoon falsetto, like crazed owls: “Hu-hu-hu! Hu-hu-hu!” I clutch a cup of steamy, sweet glüwein (mulled wine) and join the tradition, hu-hu-ing until I’m hoarse, relieved that, for the moment, my lousy German doesn’t matter.
I’m here for Narrensprung, or Fools’ Jump. In this storybook town at the edge of the Black Forest, Swabian rituals of Carnival have changed little over the centuries—handily holding their own against the commercial spectacles of big cities.
Founded by the Romans in 73 A.D. as a military outpost and trading center, Rottweil’s heritage shows in its tidy prosperity; ruins of temples and baths; and famous export and namesake, the Rottweiler, a sturdy canine descended from herding dogs bred by Roman cattle farmers. As the settlement evolved, so too did the role of Rottweilers, who became draft animals and butchers’ shop companions.
“Ich bin ein Rottweiler” is the bumpersticker of choice. Garlands of yellow and black, the official town colors, are draped across storefronts and lamposts. Lifesize plastic Rottweilers guard doors, plush toy Rotties stare from windows.
Narrensprung’s pagan roots are augmented by Catholic pre-Lenten fervor. Winter and its cold spirits must be expelled, and so after a formal declaration, the icy cobbled streets fill with celebrants eager to witness a grand procession of narren, or “fools,” in kaleidoscopically colored costumes and hand-carved masks, most of which have been handed down through generations of families.
Each narren does his part: the Benner Rössle prance astride hobbyhorses; the Gschell toss candy and clank their bocce-ball-sized metal bells in a thumping rhythm. The Guller, a lone strutting rooster, represents fertility.
I’m temporarily blinded by a mass of stinky-sweet horsehair dangled across my face. Grunting lecherously, a Federahannes dusts my winter away with a long tufted pole. Just as suddenly, he balances on the pole and vaults above us all, feathered cape flying: a jumping fool.
There are Boxers, Beagles, Labs and Bernese Mountain Dogs among the spectators, but curiously, no Rottweilers. Outside the Konditorei (pastry shop), a clutch of revelers disguised as rabbits and frogs chat with a woman swathed in fox who’s tethered to a giant Standard Poodle.
“Where are the Rottweilers?” I chance asking this stranger.
We discover that we share the name Erika, and are immediately comfortable. Her English makes my German unnecessary, allowing us—encircled by a frenzy of hu-hu-ing—to talk. “Shouldn’t Rottweilers be part of Narrensprung? Can I meet one not made of plastic?” I ask.
Erika pauses, then leans toward me and whispers, “There are puppies.” Soon, I’m a passenger in her car, circling Rottweil’s outer reaches on a quest.
We find the house, festooned in yellow and black and with an etched profile of a Rottweiler on the door. Eminent breeder and trainer Bernhard Schwabe’s place is chockablock with Rottie statues and Carnival regalia, not to mention dogs. Two stately canines snooze by the fireplace; their eight fuzzy offspring, squirming under heat lamps, are already promised to families. One of the Rotties approaches and rests his blocky head in my lap.
Over coffee, Erika translates as Bernhard expounds about the history of Narrensprung, and his beloved dogs. He shows us his Federahannes mask, but seems most proud of a faded photo that captures him parading in a butcher’s costume, flanked by a Rottweiler pulling an antique cart of yellow flowers.
For this moment, issues of breed discrimination, overpopulation and rescue societies are a world away.
Back in town, Benner Rössle prance and crack their whips into the night as the ritual winds down. Masks are lowered and folks retreat to the warmth of the gasthaus (inn). The old magic must have worked, because spring arrived in the Black Forest soon afterward.
Dog's Life: Travel
Volunteering at Hetta Huskies in Finnish Lapland
It’s hard to believe that this time a year ago, I was fumbling in the pre-dawn darkness, pulling on multiple thermal layers to face the Arctic weather and more than 100 spirited, vocal sled dogs. I never knew what each day would hold–breaking up fearsome fights, marking trails, checking stock, giving medication or butchering fresh meat for evening meals. I’ve held demanding jobs in my life, including time as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Central Africa, but tackling a three-month volunteer stint at Hetta Huskies high in Finnish Lapland pushed me to my limits. However, despite the daily mélange of euphoria, anxiety, pride and anger, I emerged victorious. And I brought home a Husky to prove it!
My time with Hetta Huskies was part of what turned out to be an almost two-year-long backpacking trip around the world with my husband, Steve Aguirre. Our bold decision to undertake a shared epic journey was precipitated by a year of loss. In 2011, my best friend was viciously murdered, and our beloved dog was hit and killed by a car. Every two months, it seemed, there was a new trauma. We finally realized that life really is too short; if we didn’t leave soon, we may not have the chance later.
Before we knew it, we had walked away from our jobs and said goodbye to friends, family and favorite San Diegan locales. We started in Guatemala and wove our way overland through Central and South America, flew to New Zealand, then up to Thailand, Dubai, Turkey, Georgia, Armenia and the Ukraine before zigzagging through Eastern Europe, up to Finland and over to the Netherlands. We rounded out our trip by wending through the UK. In total, over the course of 20 months, we visited 27 countries and five continents. We also relied heavily on Workaway opportunities, in which hosts provide full room and board in exchange for daily volunteer work. As the Workaway site describes it, the swap was simple: “a few hours honest help per day in exchange for food and accommodation and an opportunity to learn about the local lifestyle and community, with friendly hosts in varying situations and surroundings.”
All 19 of our Workaway experiences were transformational in their own ways, but the one that had the most impact also happened to be the most grueling and beautiful. While still in San Diego, I clicked through possible Workaway experiences and happened upon a sled dog farm in remote Finnish Lapland. One of the pictures accompanying the lengthy list of volunteer expectations and requirements was a close up of a blue-eyed puffball of a Husky puppy, which I promptly emailed to Steve with the subject line “This is what you could be looking at instead of spreadsheets…” We’re both wild about dogs, and we knew that a stint with Hetta Huskies was definitely in the cards.
Thus, in September 2013, we found ourselves in the tiny reindeer herding village of Hetta, 130 miles above the Arctic Circle, after 17 hours of travel via train and bus. Hetta Huskies is owned by two former professional athletes and explorers, Finn Pasi Ikonen and Brit Anna McCormack. Our bosses expected a consistently high level of professionalism and perfection.
At 32, Steve and I were among the oldest in the group, which consisted of as many as 16 volunteers living dorm style, sleeping in bunk beds and sharing a toilet, shower, living area and kitchen. Cooking and cleaning duties were unofficially rotated, and every night, four to five dogs from the farm would spend the night with us for either medical or socialization purposes.
We were in charge of 116 howling, furry, excitable powerhouse work dogs (and 86 at Valimaa, a second farm) who needed daily care. Our work days were at least 12 hours with a half-hour lunch, and we worked between six and nine days in a row before we had a day off. Daily tasks included administering medication, prepping, delivering and cleaning up the dogs’ food, groundwork maintenance (refilling holes, raking running circles near the kennels, making sure there were no tree roots to tangle the chains), heat checks for the females, cage repair, taking sled teams on practice runs, giving tours to tourists, data entry and a litany of other tasks that seemed to spring up daily. Because this work is so serious, Hetta Huskies has systems and trainings that rival those in any corporate setting.
As mentioned, we also spent time at Valimaa, which Hetta Huskies had been contracted to oversee for another company. The setup there was a bit more primitive and remote, and the dogs themselves needed a little extra love and attention, since they were a bit wilder and more likely to be afraid of humans than the Hetta dogs.
At Valimaa on one memorable evening in February, I spotted a pulsating green aura and my heart jumped into my throat—it was the aurora borealis, the northern lights, live and in otherworldly greens! As Steve and I lay on the frozen ground, inhaling the frigid night air and looking up at the amazing sight, a sonorous canine chorus rose up and enveloped us in the moment. It was pure magic. For more than a half hour, we were transfixed by the celestial show.
The night before we left Hetta, Steve and I took out the first sleds of the season. We flew across the frozen tundra under a fiery sorbet sunset behind exuberant teams of canine dynamos—dogs who love nothing more than the feel of snow under their feet. That single moment made the aching bones, stress, lack of sleep and paltry food all worth it. In fact, our time in Hetta so defined our world trip that we decided to go for the ultimate keepsake in the form of a three-year-old female named Theta. Her Dalmatian-spotted ears and black mask had charmed me at first sight. When we learned she was available for adoption, we did the research and discovered that it would be neither expensive nor complicated to bring her home.
After departing Hetta Huskies and making our way through the UK for a few more months, we finished our adventures back in Helsinki, where we collected Theta and boarded the first of three planes that would take all three of us back to Colorado. Theta adapted quickly to her new situation, which included everything from a name change (after seeing her run and pounce in the snow, we re-christened her Naali, which means “Arctic fox” in Finnish) to playing with toys for the first time. And during a road trip to San Diego, she took her first dip in the Pacific Ocean—a big step for a dog who had never seen open water in her life.
Nowadays, our little family indulges in a group howl before work in honor of the pack mentality, and we delight in taking Naali to the dog park (where she gravitates toward other Huskies) and giving her lots of belly rubs after long runs on a skijoring line to simulate her sled-pulling days. Though Naali has decided that laughter and the television aren’t threats, the jury’s still out on parked cars and the sound of compressed air. She’s also learned that cute behavior leads to more cuddles and treats. As we work on our own re-acclimatization to post-trip life, she’s proven to be a welcome distraction.
We’ve never had a moment’s regret about our decision to throw caution to the wind and embark upon the most epic adventure we’ve shared to date. I’m also reminded of our adventures by the best trip memento we could have asked for: Naali, our very own living slice of Arctic Scandinavia.
Dog's Life: Travel
For the ultimate road trip, set your GPS for Patagonia via the Pan-American Highway
For those who cannot imagine a vacation without their canine companions, a road trip is the obvious way to go. And when it comes to roads, the Pan-American Highway is the mother of them all. Stretching 30,000 miles from Prudhoe Bay, Alaska, to the southernmost tip of Patagonia in Ushuaia, Argentina, it traverses almost every type of terrain imaginable, from deserts to rain forests and tropical beaches to snowy mountains. If you’ve exhausted local options and have time for a more far-reaching adventure, you may want to give it a whirl. Here are some tips on planning for and enjoying a road trip with your dog through Mexico, Central America and beyond.
Can I really take my dog all the way to Patagonia?
Yes! The Pan-American Highway is a well-traveled route, and you will be sure to meet countless people touring with their much larger, much smaller or even multiple dogs (not to mention cats and the occasional bird). Traveling with a dog has many advantages. We all know that dogs provide us with a great way to meet people, and they can keep homesickness at bay if you plan to be on the road for a while. Having a dog around can also contribute to your own and your vehicle’s security when you’re camping or in an unfamiliar place.
That said, you know your dog best. If she has health or behavioral issues, or gets carsick, you might want to find a friendly place for her to stay while you’re away.
What kinds of dog-related supplies do I need to bring?
Any special medications your dog may need and proof of an up-to-date rabies vaccination are critical. Otherwise, people keep dogs as pets in all of the Americas, and you will be able to find dog food, accessories and common medications like flea and tick treatments almost everywhere you go. Although rabies is the only required vaccination, it’s a good idea to also have your dog inoculated against kennel cough and parvovirus —boosters can also be renewed along the way.
Is it difficult to cross international borders with a dog?
It depends. Experiences at border crossings vary by location and by the inspectors who happen to be working that day. It is always a good idea to be prepared: check each country’s entry requirements a few days before you plan to cross. Most countries ask that you obtain a health certificate for your dog three to 10 days in advance and make this certificate available for inspection at the border, along with vaccination information. Vets are plentiful and will produce this document for free or at very little cost, although many will insist that it is not needed—and in most instances, they’ll be right.
Chile has the most difficult pet-related border crossing requirements. A health certificate from the previous country’s agricultural inspection agency (such as Argentina’s SENASA) is required; to get this, you’ll need to make specific office and vet visits, both of which come with small fees. If heading all the way south to Ushuaia, the Chilean border must be crossed at least twice; if you plan to do it in a short period of time, special transit paperwork can be arranged— just ask at the corresponding agency.
What health concerns do I need to look out for in the Americas?
It’s always a good idea to drop in at a vet facility periodically to see what the local issues may be. Heartworm is not a problem in South America, but intestinal worms are. In some parts of Central America, dry spells can lead to a proliferation of ticks, which can transmit ehrlichiosis, fatal but treatable if identified early. Additionally, South America has a problem with screwworm, a fly-like boring insect that can infect animals through open wounds and orifices. Stay current with your dog’s flea and tick treatments, and be sure to groom them regularly for ticks; when in doubt, visit the nearest vet.
How dog-friendly is Latin America? Will I find places I cannot visit with my dog?
In general, it is much more dog-friendly than the U.S. That being said, dogs are not permitted in most national parks, historic sites and anywhere with protected wildlife. When visiting these areas, make arrangements ahead of time to leave your dog in a hotel or kennel for the day—or, on the fly, have a local shopkeeper watch your pet; a small tip is usually appreciated. Depending on the area, you can always ask park staff to make an exception, as sometimes more flexibility is granted to visiting foreigners with well-behaved dogs on leash.
In terms of lodging, smaller, family-run campsites, hotels and hostels are your best bets; it’s a good idea to call ahead if possible. Many places are not used to travelers with well behaved dogs, so a simple display of canine obedience is often enough to gain your dog entrance into a place that may otherwise prohibit them. Demonstrate that your dog can sit and lie down on command, and learn how to say in Spanish that your dog is housebroken, doesn’t bite or bark, and will sleep in his own bed—if you have one, show the innkeeper a dedicated dog blanket or even a travel kennel.
How about crossing the Darién Gap?
Right. Crossing from Panama to Colombia means negotiating this stretch of jungley, roadless swampland. While a simple car ferry has been planned for some time, it doesn’t exist yet; most overland travelers ship their vehicles as cargo, cross either by boat or air, and meet them on the other side. With a bit of research, you may be able to find a passenger boat willing to take you and your dog to Colombia, with stops in the San Blas Islands. However, if you decide to do this, be prepared for a 30-hour, open-sea crossing that can be quite rough. The other option is to fly. High temperatures ground dogs between July 15 and August 15, however, so plan accordingly.
What else can I do to prepare for a trip like this?
The best resources for up-to-date pet and travel information are other travelers. Always check in with those you meet on the road to see what their experiences have been, as rules and management change frequently.
Dog's Life: Travel
Leaf-Peeping with Pups
Fall is go time. Sunny, crisp days and aromatic leaf piles inspire dogs to leap into the season. Why not follow their lead on a leaf-peeping adventure built for two?
Black Hills, South Dakota
Eastern Upper Peninsula, Michigan
White Mountains, New Hampshire
Hocking Hills, Ohio
Taos, New Mexico
Cascade Mountains, Washington
Dog's Life: Travel
Golden State Getaways
When thinking about summer getaways with your dog in California, think cool. Think water. Think spectacularly scenic and away from bright lights and big cities. Here are a few special places that will surely put a smile on your dog’s snout.
North Coast. The redwoods are fat and the North Coast beaches are often leash-free and cooled by a blanket of fog. Take an unleashed hike on the wild side at the magnificent coastal 62,000-acre King Range National Conservation Area in Shelter Cove, and stay at the Halcyon Inn Bed & Breakfast in Eureka. And don’t miss the Avenue of the Giants, a 31-mile route through some of the biggest redwoods in the world (including Luna, made famous by Julia Butterfly Hill’s extended stay).
South Lake Tahoe. Your dog can swim in the sparkling blue waters of Lake Tahoe and fish with you on a charter boat. Spend the night at the cozy cottages of Holly’s Place, with its leash-free 2.5 enclosed acres, and dine outdoors at the very hip and dog-friendly FiRE + iCE, right under the Heavenly gondola.
Mono County. A visit to the strange and ancient Mono Lake is about the closest you’ll come to exploring another planet. It’s an otherworldly must-see, but far too salty for dog paddling. Save the swimming for the nearby beautiful Eastern Sierra lakes, Lake Mary or June Lake, for example. Like ghost towns? Sleep at the lovely, super-dog-friendly Edelweiss Lodge, in Mammoth Lakes.
Cambria. A seaside haven, Cambria opens its sandy arms to the canine set. Cambria is home to a very popular dog park, but if you like more space, head to the 440-acre Fiscalini Ranch Preserve, where dogs can trot around off leash along one mile of heavenly oceanfront.
Big Bear Lake. The lakeside mountain resort community Big Bear Lake in southern San Bernardino County boasts crisp, clean alpine air year round—a real boon in these parts. You and your dog can hike, swim, rent a boat and ride right behind horse heinies on a Bear Valley Stage Lines stagecoach. Dog-friendly lodgings abound. Try Big Bear Frontier Cabins & Hotel, right on the lake, or Golden Bear Cottages, where each cute, pet-friendly cabin sports its own little fenced yard.
News: Guest Posts
Surfers get furry
We were first introduced to Jedi through our Smiling Dog submissions, and we think Jedi Seja may be the next worldwide furry celebrity. Born on a puppy mill farm and surrendered to a rescue, Jedi had a rough start. Luckily he was then adopted by his parents Katie and Patrick Seja, and they’ve turned his life upside-down. His surfing career started in 2011, and has taken him across the nation for many surf competitions. Jedi’s interests include surfing, being an advocate for animals, working with charities, and smiling while having fun.
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