Dog's Life: Lifestyle
A dog-camp pro tells us what to look for
Summer is here and it’s time for camp! Are you considering your first trip to dog camp, yet wondering if your dog is ready? Here are five skills and traits your dog should have to get the most out of the camp experience.
1. Coming reliably when called is high on the list for Annie Brody, creator and director of Camp Unleashed in Massachusetts. “This is a biggie, especially for hiking off-leash. We ask people to practice this in safe ways prior to camp if they don’t feel their dog’s recall is totally reliable. It’s also important for heavy-duty play, so you can safely control energy that might get too high.” Your nearby off-leash park is the perfect place to practice this one.
2. Good socialization. Young dogs should understand verbal cues from other dogs asking them to curb their enthusiasm, while older dogs should tolerate being jostled and bumped by frolicking youngsters, who often move like crashing waves through groups of people and dogs as they play. Little dogs should not be afraid of playful or sniffing big dogs. “Dogs must play well or at least be neutral with other dogs of all kinds and sizes,” says Brody. Your dog park is a great place to practice this skill, too.
3. Sharing. The most popular camp dog is willing to share toys—no hoarding that favorite squeaker toy!—as well as cabin space. A lack of jealousy when other dogs greet you or accept treats from you is also important. Share the love!
4. Napping. “They should be able to rest quietly in your cabin or in a crate without incessant barking,” says Brody. Just like toddlers, dogs get ramped up at camp. A nap each day helps them maintain their composure and manners while you enjoy meals with the group—or your own nap.
5. Patience. With you, when you ask him to wear a silly costume or show off his tricks for a camp contest, or when you take endless photos of him at various camp locations and activities. With the other humans, who constantly want to meet and touch him. With the canine co-camper who insists on sniffing, frequently and closely. And, finally, with having his usual day-to-day routine disrupted in such a wonderfully exciting way.
Dog's Life: Travel
Pound Puppy Hikes
Red Mountain Resort and Spa in Ivins, Utah, near Snow Canyon State Park and St. George in the southwestern corner of the state, hosts adventure retreats focusing on wellness, healthy meals and exercise. In addition to the list of offerings one might expect— hiking, fitness training, biking, yoga, water workouts, spa treatments and more—this destination resort also provides another option that’s sure to bring joy to a dog-lover’s heart: opportunities for its guests to interact with animals from nearby shelters and rescue groups.
According to Tracey Welsh, the resort’s general manager, incorporating animals into the program started a few years ago, when the staff noticed that guests who brought their dogs with them were “instant rock stars”; other guests wanted to meet and pet the dogs. About the same time, one of the resort’s hiking guides became the animal control officer at the Ivins Municipal Animal Shelter. The guide-turned-officer had an ambitious goal: turn the facility into a no-kill shelter. Armed with two critical data points— shelter dogs need walks and increased exposure promotes adoptions—the new officer worked with the municipality to overcome liability concerns, and “Pound Puppy Hikes” was born. It didn’t take long for Red Mountain Resort to realize the potential benefits of the program to its guests and weave Pound Puppy Hikes into its wellness offerings.
The shelter, which is only a mile from the resort, determines which dogs are best suited to be hiking companions. The resort transports guests to the shelter, where their guide shares information on shelter history and the no-kill philosophy before they head out— shelter pups in tow—on their hike.
“The biggest problem is that sometimes there aren’t enough dogs,” says Welsh, adding that a few guests will sometimes stay behind to play with the shelter’s cats and kittens. “The program sets us apart,” says Welsh. “Our guests are highly disappointed if the hike doesn’t happen; it’s something people really look forward to.”
The resort also collaborates with a nearby nonprofit that rescues wild mustangs. Guests can visit the ranch, meet and learn how to lead the horses, and “experience a powerful heart-to-heart hug.”
Red Mountain Resort and Spa has always been dog friendly. According to Welsh, most guests who arrive with their own dogs are on their way to another destination, and stay one or two nights. Those who stay longer tend to have smaller dogs not into hiking; the resort makes it possible for the petite pups to safely stay behind while their people do the Pound Puppy Hike. For those who want to get out and about with their dogs, the resort provides information on nearby dog-friendly trails.
Sometimes, with the help of the resort, an Ivins shelter dog finds a new home. Guests have been responsible for about 20 adoptions since the program started in 2009. “We’ve had dogs go as far away as Alaska and Kentucky,” says Welsh. “It’s a delightful problem, to help guests figure out how to get a dog home. We feel so good about the program.” redmountainresort.com
Postscript: Another way to do good for southwestern Utah dogs is to contribute to INKAs (Ivins No Kill Animal Supporters), a 501(c)(3) nonprofit that makes it possible for the shelter to maintain a no-kill philosophy by helping pay for various items and services, including veterinary care, food, medications, cages, litter boxes, bedding, harnesses and leashes. inkas4pets.org
Dog's Life: Travel
A tip for every state in the union (and then some)
Bark editors offer up a tip for every state in the union, plus D.C.
Alabama: On-leash dogs are welcome everywhere at Little River Canyon National Preserve, including in the visitor center, where we’re told treats are often available at the information counter.
Alaska: The glaciers and ice fields of Wrangell-St. Elias National Park are perfect for thick-coated, snowloving creatures such as bears, harbor seals and Malamutes. Answer the call of the wild in an area as big as six Yellowstones. (Note that while unleashed dogs are allowed on trails, bears and moose are also on the loose here.)
Arizona: Sedona is the center of the state’s legendary Red Rock Country. The area offers much to marvel at: red-rock spires, sandstone cliffs and postcardperfect views. Several companies offer dog-friendly jeep tours.
Arkansas: Try canoeing down sections of the Ouachita River. One of the most popular trips is the journey from Oden to the Rocky Shoals; the 10-mile stretch features deep pools and shady banks.
California: Carmel, with its leash-free, pristine white sand beach and 37-acre Mission Trail Nature Preserve, is a canine paradise. Cafes, inns, shops all cater to happy dogs.
Colorado: Aspen has everything from fine dining with your dog to miles of trails, including Smuggler Mountain Road. If you’re dogless but yearning for some canine attention, spend a day with an eager companion courtesy of Aspen Animal Shelter’s “Rent-a-Pet Program.”
Connecticut: The folk tale of the Black Dog of West Peak haunts the Hanging Hills. Hikers explore the deep gorges and clear waters of Merimere Reservoir, watching out for the legendary dog that foretells danger or joy.
Delaware: Cape Henlopen State Park, one of the few places in the state where (with some restrictions) dogs are allowed year-round. The American Discovery Trail begins here; hike its first few miles.
Florida: Key West (aka Bone Island) is historically one of Florida’s most dog-friendly tourist destinations. An abundance of inns, guest cottages and restaurants welcome dogs.
Georgia: Take a leisurely stroll along the Eastside Trail, the first leg of Atlanta’s Beltline project. This 2-mile path is part of a huge “railsto- trails” revitalization effort to transform 33 miles of vine-covered railroad into parks, multi-use trails and transit around Atlanta.
Hawaii: While canine visitors are subject to quarantine, shelters on Kauai, Maui and the Big Island invite you to check out approved dogs for day-long field—or beach —trips. Even better, sign up for a shelter pet transfer program and give a homeless dog a shot at a new life on the mainland.
Idaho: Ketchum offers Bald Mountain Trail and alpine walks and lakes throughout Sawtooth National Recreation Area. Famous for skiing, Sun Valley is also a nature (and dog) lover’s delight in summer.
Illinois: Chicago-based Camp Dogwood utilizes facilities at nearby Lake Delton, Wisc., 600 acres of fields, woods and lakefront. The focus here is on bonding rather than competition.
Indiana: Walk the rolling dunes of Indiana Dunes State Park, where 10 trails pass over tall drifting mounds of sand, across miles of lakeshore beach, along marshes and through 1,800 acres of woods.
Iowa: One of the best states for rails-to-trails and a great place to try out dog-friendly bicycle gear. Bike the 63-mile Wabash Trace Nature Trail (Council Bluffs to Blanchard).
Kansas: Wichita State University is home to the Martin H. Bush Outdoor Sculpture Collection, one of the oldest and largest of its kind in the country. Includes works by Andy Goldsworthy, Henry Moore, Louise Nevelson and Joan Miró, among others.
Kentucky: Daniel Boone National Forest is a birder’s mecca—bring your binoculars in search of hooded mergansers and scarlet tanagers. Dog-friendly accommodations, plus homegrown bluegrass and bourbon, are close by in Lexington.
Louisiana: New Orleans offers legendary history, architecture and gardens, best explored on foot. Your canine companion will be welcomed at 80-plus eateries with outdoor seating, including Chartres House Café, Café Beignet, Parkway Tavern and The Bulldog.
Maine: Acadia National Park encompasses more than 47,000 acres of granite-domed mountains, woodlands, lakes and rugged coastal shoreline; its 100 miles of easy-to-challenging trails offer adventures and respite for both dogs and their people.
Maryland: Catoctin Mountain Park features miles of on-leash, dog-friendly trails that wind through the rugged hardwood forest of this Appalachian highlands park. Picnic and camping areas available.
Massachusetts: Provincetown, at the tip of Cape Cod, has much to offer, both old and new. Stroll down its main street; explore its beaches (the city-managed beach is leash-free), marshes and dunes; or run off some energy at Pilgrim Bark Park, one of the top five in America. Your pup can even travel with you via public transportation on Bay State Cruise Company’s ferry service between Boston and Provincetown.
Michigan: Agility, flyball, backpacking, boating, herding, tracking all await you and your dog at the Dog Scouts Camp in the beautiful Northern Lower Peninsula.
Minnesota: The Twin Cities’ long list of off-leash parks includes the crown jewel Minnehaha Dog Park in Minneapolis on the Mississippi River, and four in St. Paul, notably High Bridge, a fully fenced 7-acre site.
Mississippi: Follow the ancient, winding routes of Choctaw and Chickasaw Indians along the 445- mile Natchez Trace Parkway and take in antebellum mansions, river views and more than 60 miles of wildflower-fringed hiking trails.
Missouri: Dip toes and paws in Bliss Spring for cool relief, just one of the many natural wonders to be found along White’s Creek Trail in the Ozarks’ Irish Wilderness area, part of Mark Twain National Forest.
Montana: Whitefish loves its dogs. In town, visit the 5-acre Hugh Rogers Wag Park. Just outside of town is the Whitefish Trail, miles of stacked loops, scenic overlooks and gated logging roads.
Nebraska: Hike or bike along one of the many trails in Nebraska, the “Historic Trails” state. The Lewis and Clark, Mormon Pioneer, Pony Express, Oregon, and California National Historic Trails crisscross the state.
Nevada: Spend a day rafting a peaceful 5-mile stretch of the Truckee River, near Tahoe City. Check in with Truckee River Rafting for details.
New Hampshire: Great North Woods state parks offer many dog-friendly parks and natural areas. Swimming holes and waterfalls abound, and keep an eye out for covered bridges.
New Jersey: Sunfish Pond, formed 15,000 years ago, is the southernmost glacial lake on the Appalachian Trail. The rock formations and hardwood forest host an abundance of flora and fauna.
New Mexico: Wonderful discoveries await you, from Taos’ Rio Grande Gorge area, with its stunning vistas and many small hot springs, to Carson National Forest.
New York: Explore the natural beauty, small towns and tranquility of the Catskill Mountains, including rummaging at the many flea markets and unmatched hiking and fishing.
North Carolina: Asheville provides mountain hikes (nearby Lookout Trail) and a number of (leashed) dog-friendly festivals, from traditional folk music to regional crafts.
North Dakota: The tall-grass prairie on the rolling hills of the Sheyenne National Grasslands is a significant contrast to the stark badlands found in the Little Missouri National Grasslands. Or, visit the leashed-dog-friendly International Peace Garden in Rugby.
Ohio: The Buckeye Trail circumnavigates the state and is the longest loop trail in the country. Hike the wild 25-mile stretch in Hocking Hills State Park, and camp at one of its dog-friendly campsites.
Oklahoma: One of historic Route 66’s longest stretches goes through this state. Look for roadside attractions like the Totem Pole Park in Foyil or the giant Blue Whale of Catoosa. Stop by White Dog Hill restaurant outside of Clinton for some home-style cooking.
Oregon: The state’s tallest peak, Mount Hood, provides hiking and cycling in a Cascade Range forest. Explore long stretches of secluded coastline at Cannon Beach and Lincoln City.
Pennsylvania: Is Philadelphia America’s most dog-friendly city? Their chamber of commerce thinks so, and pup-welcoming establishments Hotel Palomar and restaurants like the White Dog Cafe and Honey’s Sit ’n Eat support their claim.
Rhode Island: Well-behaved dogs are welcomed on Gansett Cruises in Newport, plus get treats and a special blanket to sit on. Take a scenic harbor tour or sunrise cruise on Narragansett Bay.
South Carolina: Congaree Swamp National Monument has 20 miles of trails (dogs must be leashed on trails and are not allowed on boardwalks). Nature abounds with old-growth cypress and tupelo, woodpeckers, cardinals, and hawks.
South Dakota: See the landscape as Lewis and Clark may have along the Native American Scenic Byway from Chamberlain to Pierre, as it passes through two American Indian reservations.
Tennessee: The only state declared a Civil War National Heritage Area by Congress, which makes it a prime spot for al fresco history lessons. Dogs are welcome at several historic battlefields, including Shiloh National Military Park.
Texas: San Antonio Missions National Historical Park allows leashed strolling along the famous River Walk, and around the grounds of the 18th-century Spanish missions, including the Alamo.
Utah: Best Friends, in picturesque Angel Canyon outside of Kanab, is the nation’s largest sanctuary for abused and abandoned cats and dogs. The dramatic setting and humane mission are inspiring. Plan a working holiday: arrange a sleepover in one of the cabins and host an appreciative animal for some snuggling.
Vermont: At Dog Mountain, 150 acres of private mountaintop in St. Johnsbury, artist Stephen Huneck’s Dog Chapel celebrates our spiritual bond with canines. There’s no leash law here—dogs are free to run, play and swim (don’t miss the new agility course).
Virginia: Blue Ridge Parkway allows dogs on more than 100 trails, ranging from easy valley strolls to strenuous mountain hikes. Check out the many festivals and music events in the area that enliven the Shenandoah Valley. Stay at Big Meadows Lodge built by the Civilian Conservation Corps in the 1930s.
Washington: Ferry to the San Juan Islands (75 miles north of Seattle) for hiking, kayaking and cycling amidst some of the Pacific Northwest’s most spectacular scenery and abundant wildlife.
Washington DC: Rock Creek Park, more than 1,750 (dog-friendly) acres, lies north of the National Zoo and has hiking, biking and equestrian trails. Plus, the K9 Corps at the Historic Congressional Cemetery has a private dog-walking program permitted by membership only.
West Virginia: The New River Gorge offers multisport delights, from rafting and rock-climbing to hiking past old grist mills and waterfalls—all in the heart of Southern Appalachia.
Wisconsin: Sheboygan is a sportsman’s paradise—swim, kayak or fish on Lake Michigan or nearby Elkhart Lake.
Wyoming: Try your hand at cowboy life at one of the state’s many dude ranches. If you yearn for fresh mountain air, open spaces—and if your dog is horse-friendly—check out listings on duderanch.org
Dog's Life: Travel
International travel with a humane purpose.
Set amidst swaying coconut palms not far from the quiet beaches of Bang Saphan on the Gulf of Thailand, Headrock Dogs Rescue (HDR) is a small operation powered by the will and drive of Britishborn Verity Cattanach Poole and her husband, Suthep Samkuntod (Thep), a native of Thailand. The couple has dedicated their lives to sheltering, healing and rehoming the area’s abandoned dogs, which are, unfortunately, legion.
The number of dogs in HDR’s care varies, but rarely goes below 70, and many are puppies, who are regularly dumped at the shelter compound or at a nearby Buddhist temple (HDR also cares for the temple’s many dogs). HDR is an open shelter; while puppies are kept safe in pens, juvenile and adult dogs have space to run and sort themselves into groups. Each day is packed with tasks: The dogs need regular bathing and brushing, along with eye and skin treatments, medications, and feeding. Their sleeping areas, food bowls and the puppy pens need to be cleaned. Equally important, they need human kindness and attention, which are critical to their transformation from anxious and traumatized to frolicking and joyful.
To do this good work, Verity and Thep rely on the help of volunteers, many of whom are in the country on backpacking trips. Or professionals such as John Thai, a Belgian photographer who’s not afraid to get his hands dirty in the service of animals. Thai makes an annual donation of his time and skills to humane causes; in the past, he’s volunteered at the Iberian Wolf Recovery Centre in Portugal and the Elephant Nature Park sanctuary in Thailand.
“NOT ONLY WAS IT EXTREMELY AWARDING SEEING DOGS WHICH WERE SOMETIMES CLOSE TO DEATH BECOME PLAYFUL AND HAPPY, THE EXPERIENCE TEACHES YOU THAT ALL DOGS, WHEN TREATED WELL, CAN BECOME GOOD NATURED.”
—DEREK HALL, HEADROCK VOLUNTEER COMMUNICATIONS
Earlier this year, he spent a month at HDR, documenting their amazing work. As he says in his online journal at johnjourney.be, “As a dog photographer, I want people to remember their companions at their most vivid moments. Running freely with barks of joy, shaking off the excitement, wrestling with playmates, or just going for that one so-irresistible mud bath.”
His photographs of the Headrock dogs certainly capture those moments, as well as many that celebrate the caregivers’ gentleness, compassion and joy in their duties. The gratification they get from their work is clearly evident in Thai’s photos.
Dog's Life: Travel
A look inside Sunrise Springs Spa Resort’s Puppy Enrichment Center.
According to philosopher Bernard Williams, “There is no psychiatrist in the world like a puppy licking your face.” Imagine having four or five of them jockeying for attention, slipping and sliding as they try to gain favor. “Pet me!” “Give me treats!” “Play with me!”
But these young and slightly clumsy little chocolate, black and yellow English Labs aren’t here at Sunrise Springs Spa Resort’s Puppy Enrichment Center just to get their licks in. They’re here being trained to be service dogs for people with mobility impairments; traumatic brain injuries; combat injuries; autism spectrum, seizure, and emotional and anxiety disorders; developmental disabilities; and diabetes.
As part of their training, the dogs are taught to be patient as well as comfortable with being handled and spoken to by many different people in a variety of environments. When they’re older and ready to work, they will truly make a difference in their partners’ lives, helping them become more independent, self-reliant and confident.
This tranquil northern New Mexico resort is able to offer its guests opportunities to interact with the adorable Labs as part of its collaboration with Assistance Dogs of the West (ADW). Founded in 1995 in Santa Fe, ADW now has the largest assistance dog studenttraining program in the world.
The facility at Sunrise Springs is the brainchild of ADW’s founder, Jill Felice, and Sunrise’s Andy Scott. The two longtime friends decided that guests could benefit from contact with these healthy, welltempered dogs and observing their development and training firsthand. The puppies add another level to the spa experience, as do the Silkie chickens, also on the premises and available for guest interaction; the chickens are known for their calm temperament and fluff, which adds an additional layer of relaxation to this wellness oasis. (Marie Claire magazineis calls Sunrise Springs “the perfect escape for the animal lover.”)
The puppies are born at the resort, and staff trainers—professionals, student trainers ranging in age from eight to 18, and veterans with ADW’s Warrior Canine Connection—prepare the dogs to be mission-ready when they’re placed with their human partners. They teach the dogs 90 commands, including how to open doors; climb stairs one at a time; and “under,” which means to put their bellies on the ground under a chair or table when their person sits.
The dogs are also taught to step over Styrofoam tubes to learn agility, fetch rubber balls from a baby pool to learn retrieval skills and even to use a ramp. The trainers take them into public places to further refine the commands. All this helps the puppies become better problem solvers, smarter about handling the critical situations in which their future partners will require assistance.
The puppies’ spacious pen is set up in a large room, and guests are encouraged to interact with the dogs during visiting hours, known at the resort as Open Puppy Studio. In addition, there’s an adjacent playroom well stocked with toys, and a large pen out back. The puppies and their trainers are also free to roam the resort’s many acres of gardens, paths, walking trails and undeveloped land.
Guests are asked to remove their shoes and wash their hands before entering the center. Once they’re inside, Britte Holman, who runs the center and is the first supervisor of this new program, encourages them to engage with the puppies, and answers any questions they might have. She also reminds them that if they wave a ball at a puppy, they must toss it, because the dogs need to know how to follow through. When it comes to assistance dogs, this is especially critical, since when they’re on the job, their people will be relying on them to respond promptly and accurately to commands. This type of training is extremely demanding, as errors can have serious consequences for both dog and person.
Clickers are used to train the puppies, and the reward after a click is food. Other rewards include toys, pats and verbal praise. The clickers are also used to shape and reinforce critical behaviors. The trainers do not use the word “no,” and choke chain collars are never employed.
The dogs help to choose their human partners and are placed with them at two years of age. Some of ADW’s dogs are with their people for life; others work in facilities, such as children’s advocacy centers or with district attorney’s offices, spending their lives with their handlers in homes carefully screened by the organization before placement.
Like all of ADW’s training programs, the focus at the Puppy Enrichment Center is on the dogs’ mental, physical and emotional well being, all of which are important to the eventual heartfelt relationships they will forge with their people. They are truly four-legged solutions to human challenges. Come see for yourself.
Dog's Life: Travel
Set in the green and rolling Texas hill country, Austin is known for its eclectic cultural events—think Austin City Limits and SXSW—Lady Bird Johnson's bluebonnets in the spring and the bats of the Congress Avenue Bridge. It's also a pretty dog-crazy place, as noted by Beth Bellanti Pander of Austin's own Tito's Handmade Vodka, where she's the company's Program Manger of Vodka for Dog People. Here are some of her hot spots...PLAY
Ahh … the water, the trees, the squirrel sightings: Red Bud Isle and Emma Long Metropolitan Park’s Turkey Creek Trail are great places for a leash-free dog to unwind. Dogs can go also off-leash at Walnut Creek Metropolitan Park, 293 acres of trails (which, FYI, they share with cyclists), hills and creeks. For a more contained experience in the central city, give Norwood Dog Park a try; it’s fully fenced and has a large, shaded main section and a separate area for small dogs. For time on the water rather than in it, stop by Zilker Park Boat Rental, where your dog’s welcome to join you in a canoe (bring his life jacket, as the rental company doesn’t provide them for dogs). Finally, if you and the pooch are in the mood for a movie, look into Austin’s “Movies in the Park” series, which started in April and runs through November in parks across the city; the pup will need a leash, but you'll both enjoy being entertained under the beautiful Austin night sky.STAY
Consider taking the HomeAway route; at press time, the online booking site had 157 pet-friendly listings in Austin—which, coincidentally, is its home base.EAT/DRINK
Dog-friendly eateries are thick on the ground in Austin. Jo’s Coffee not only welcomes dogs, it also sponsors the annual Lyndon Lambert Easter Memorial & Pet Parade. Perla’s serves some of Austin’s tastiest seafood, which can be indulged in on the patio in the company of your dog. Likewise, Mozart’s Coffee Roasters has patio seating (in this case, fronting Lake Austin) as well as—you guessed it—fine coffee drinks and a decadent selection of desserts. Three venues go the extra mile when it comes to kicking back with canines. Banger’s Sausage House and Beer Garden not only provides a leash-free area, it also makes a sausage just for dogs. At Dog House Drinkery, dogs are welcome to congregate with their people in the bar area or run off some energy in one of the Drinkery’s fenced OLAs. Wet your whistle under a shady tree at the Yard Bar’s off-leash dog park while your dog goes nuts on the agility course; the bar’s full-meal menu includes two “Dog Food” entries: Bones and Co sliders and house-made ice cream.
Beth notes that on Amplify Austin day, Tito’s Handmade Vodka does its part to raise money for local charities by creating a special cocktail served at participating watering holes.
Dog's Life: Home & Garden
Keep pets healthy with the right selection of indoor plants
When preparing to adopt our kitty, I learned from the folks at the rescue organization that a few of our houseplants were toxic to cats and dogs — and since this particular furry friend enjoys chomping on plants, it was vital we remove these from our home beforehand. (And even though some pets pay no attention to plants, it’s always better to be on the safe side.) But many of the most popular design-friendly houseplants, including split-leaf philodendron and fiddle-leaf fig, are toxic to cats and dogs. So what’s a design-loving pet owner to do? Live without houseplants? No way. We’ve found 10 cool houseplant options that are all nontoxic to cats and dogs.
1. Tillandsia. Air plants are tailor-made for modern spaces, and they need very little care. Because these petite plants don’t require soil, you can place them just about anywhere — on a piece of driftwood, in a seashell, in a hanging glass vessel. However, their small size can prove problematic if you have a nibbling pet: A lot of damage can be done to the plant in a short amount of time, so watch your pet and be prepared to move the plant out of reach if this becomes an issue.
2. Boston fern. Most true ferns are nontoxic to cats and dogs, including the classic Boston fern. This fern has lush, full foliage, is easy to care for and looks equally at home in traditional and modern spaces.
3. Staghorn fern. This unique plant has sculptural appeal when mounted on the wall and — major bonus for plant-chomping pets — can be kept up high and out of the way of those sharp little teeth. Cluster several on a wall and create your own living art installation.Photo by Sushiiphoto - Look for shabby-chic style home design design inspiration
4. Maidenhair fern. Delicate and romantic, the light-as-air foliage of a maidenhair fern is a beauty to behold. This plant is a bit fussier than most houseplants, preferring a humid environment (or frequent misting) to stay healthy. The ultra-tender leaves may be tempting for pets to nibble — and while it won’t harm your furry friend, the plant itself is quite fragile and can easily be destroyed by a curious cat. If you want to keep a maidenhair fern but it keeps getting chewed up, try placing it in a hanging planter.
5. Dwarf olive tree. Dwarf olive trees can do well indoors in a large pot with good drainage, but they do need a very sunny spot with at least six hours of full sun each day. If you live in a cool, cloudy region, it probably won’t thrive.
6. Rosemary. Like the olive, this is another attractive Mediterranean plant that will look right at home in interiors of any style. Grow a pot of fresh rosemary in a kitchen window and enjoy snipping fragrant sprigs to add to your cooking.Photo by WXY architecture + urban design - Discover modern living room design inspiration
7. Ponytail palm. This wacky plant looks like something out of a Dr. Seuss book. Ponytail palms are well suited to modern interiors — starting with a smaller plant is easier on the budget, and you can always transplant it into a larger pot as it grows. A full-size specimen makes a dramatic statement, as seen here.
8. Echeveria. This succulent has rosettes of leaves in shades that range from green to blue, depending on the variety. They do best in well-drained soil, in a spot that gets morning sun.
9. Orchid. With their elegant, long-lasting blooms, it’s no wonder that orchids are a decorator favorite. Thankfully, according to the ASPCA, phalaenopsis and dendrobium orchids (two of the most popular varieties) are nontoxic to cats and dogs. Plant a single orchid or group several in one large vessel for more drama.
Note: Roses, also pictured here, are nontoxic to furry friends as well. So feel free to treat yourself to that bouquet!
10. Cat grass. Pets nibbling houseplants, even nontoxic varieties, can get tummy aches. For cats, you can encourage healthier green eats by planting a container of cat grass and placing it in an easily accessible spot. Not to be confused with catnip, which is in the mint family, cat grass will not give your cat the crazies. It’s usually grown from oat or wheat seed. If growing your own cat grass from seed, keep the container out of reach of your pet until the grass grows in, to protect the tender sprouts.
Tell us: Do your pets nibble the houseplants? Share your stories in the Comments.
Dog's Life: Travel
Why would a 57-year-old professional photographer set out on a road trip from Maine to the Arctic Ocean with only her two dogs for company? Was she on a hunt for the perfect image? Or, in packing up her suburban dogs and driving off into the Alaskan wilderness, was she just impossibly naïve?
Linda Griffith’s journey to the north in 2008 with Hugger and Comfort might most accurately be called a spiritual migration, one that began long before the trip actually started and never really came to an end. After returning home in 2009, it took her five years to narrow down the 20,000 photographs she took to the 75 she would include in a book and exhibit she called The Secret Life of Light.
Even then, Griffith’s journey was not complete; she would come to find it unbearable to have her work viewed only as beautiful photos. Her passionate assertion that Arctic light itself is endowed with conscious awareness, caught through the lens of her camera, is as intriguing as her photographs.
But none of that was in play when Griffith was struck with the idea for the trip in 2003 following the unexpected deaths of her grandmother, mother and a long-time mentor. Though Griffith grieved, she had a focus, a way to deal with her sorrow.
Sixteen years earlier, she had occasion to meet a Lenni Lenape Clan Mother at an Allentown, Pa., museum when she took a bag full of oddly shaped stones that she thought might be Native American artifacts to be evaluated. The Clan Mother, respectfully titled “Grandmother,” took Griffith under her wing, teaching her the Lenni Lenape worldview in the same way she would teach a granddaughter.
“It wasn’t that I didn’t like my culture and wanted to try on somebody else’s,” Griffith said candidly. “It was that I picked up these rocks and they led me to this place, through a path that was uniquely mine.”
By the time the three matriarchs in Griffith’s life passed in 2003, she had developed a different sensitivity.
“I had an awareness of how directions [affect] my life,” she explained. In the medicine wheel, West is the place of dying and transformation, while North represents wisdom and clarity. “It just naturally occurred to me that I should be going North to integrate the loss of these people, and to understand where I am in my life now.”
Griffith spent four years getting ready for the trip. First, she purchased a used bus and hired a mechanic, who spent a year reconditioning and converting it to four-wheel drive. Over the next three years, she removed seats, laid carpet and installed insulation. She also coated its exterior with a special paint developed by NASA to help protect spacecraft from intense heat and cold. (As it turned out, during her August stay in Deadhorse, Alaska, the temperature was 15 degrees; the extra insulation turned out to be time and energy well spent.)
Then, there was the matter of communication. “The concern was, what do I do if I get in trouble? It’s not like you can walk back to town,” Griffith pointed out. She came up with an ingenious solution: a few days before departure, she had the bus outfitted with a military- grade satellite dish, theoretically providing access to the Internet. Upon seeing pictures of the bus before departure, friends dubbed it “Jaw-droppin’ Babe Lucille.”
“With the dish up, it looked like Border Patrol. Nobody ever messed with it,” Griffith said.
Griffith also had some soul-searching to do about her dogs. What would quality of life be like for them inside the bus, where living space had been whittled down to 7 by 14 feet? It would mean that they wouldn’t be able to run loose for a year. “I am not a believer in putting them at risk that way,” she stated emphatically.
Ironically, putting the dogs at risk by taking them with her into the wilderness was a prospect Griffith was more willing to entertain. In the end, her decision to take Hugger and Comfort was influenced by several factors. Not only were both deeply attached to her, Hugger—who at four had already had two cruciate repair surgeries—required regular medication for a kidney issue, and five-year-old Comfort had separation anxiety. Griffith knew she’d refuse to eat if left behind.
Griffith’s own separation anxiety also played a part. “The dogs travel everywhere with me,” she declared. “I decide where I can go and when I can go based on whether or not I can take them. If I can’t take them, I don’t go.”
Unlike Lucille, the dogs needed very little special equipment for the trip. Hugger, a Husky mix, thrived on cold weather, and Comfort, a Terrier mix, wore a thermal shirt for most of the trip (she basked in sunbeams whenever she found them). Other than that, a couple of sleeping bags, an abundant supply of Hugger’s prescriptions and 200 pounds of kibble were all the gear the dogs required. (“We carried way more food than was reasonable in case we got stuck somewhere,“Griffith explained.) And harnesses, of course; for their safety, the dogs wore them full-time so Griffith could quickly leash them up as needed.
On the Road
As it turned out, the satellite dish never worked very well. The first one had to be replaced even before setting out, delaying her start by a week and unintentionally pushing Griffith’s departure date to her late grandmother’s June 6 birthday. The second dish worked great at first, as Griffith made her way from northern Maine into Canada, and continued to work as she traveled back into the U.S. and across the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, heading steadily westward.
By the time she reached Montana, however, the software had failed again, requiring a 200-mile detour to the last place that could repair it before she headed into the wilderness. The dish was plagued with technical difficulties for the rest of the trip, and whenever it was cloudy—which most days are in Alaska—it wouldn’t pick up the satellite at all.
In addition, Lucille needed constant attention. “The bus broke down the whole way there and the whole way back. I could tell you about every Ford service station between Fairbanks and Maine,” Griffith said. “But there was no giving up!”
Oblivious to all of that, the dogs settled easily into bus living. In fact, they thrived. Comfort remained alert while they were driving, stationing herself next to Griffith and taking in the scenery. Hugger slept in the back most of the time they were on the move, but developed a passion on walks that surprised Griffith.
“Nothing made her happier than sniffing f lowers! I didn’t know this about her,” Griffith said fondly. As they continued north toward Skagway, stopping at fields of flowers along the way, their bond grew stronger than ever.
“I felt as if the three of us were living on a level that people rarely get to experience because culture is so invasive,” Griffith remembered. “I feel that we’re very equal. My job is to keep them safe, not to oppress them.”
Despite Griffith’s watchful eye, the dogs did get occasionally get into trouble. Take, for example, their stop-off in Haines, Alaska, to photograph the grizzlies. The salmon were running and the bears were feeding. For the most part, birds and bears have a reciprocal arrangement in Alaska: the bears leave salmon remains wherever they happen to be and the birds pick them clean.
That day, however, the dogs beat the birds to a salmon under a bush, and before Griffith realized what was happening, they’d eaten enough rank fish to get sick. It was the kind of thing that could have happened anywhere, but they weren’t just anywhere, they were 130 miles from the nearest veterinarian. By evening, both dogs were vomiting blood.
“I’m used to being able to take my dogs wherever they need to go for whatever care they need. But it didn’t matter what I was willing to do, because there was nobody there to help us. That was the worst night of the trip,” recalled Griffith. There was nothing to do but head up the highway to Whitehorse (Yukon Territory, Canada).
Griffith drove north into the Yukon through the lengthening night, stopping every few minutes to take the dogs out into the thick of grizzly country to be sick. The next morning, having arrived intact at the vet’s office, she got the medication they needed, and they were fine within a couple of days. Griffith stayed in Whitehorse for two more days just to be sure, then drove back to Haines, always in pursuit of that perfect photo.
Still, Hugger and Comfort earned their keep, alerting Griffith to the presence of bears. Their message was clear, and it wasn’t only conveyed by barking; at times, they’d get out of the bus and stop dead. Other times, they’d start backing up. Whenever this happened, Griffith did the same, retreating into the bus and heading on down the road.
“Living with bears present, I was aware that there were things out there that needed to eat me if they could,” said Griffith. “That put me in my place right quick. We had stepped out of this culture that we live in, and were living much closer to the terms of the earth. Yeah, sure, I had a generator, and the bus, and food, so how at risk were we, really? But when we stepped out of the bus, especially at night, we were at risk. That felt very primordial, because I don’t think that human beings were always superior and had power over every other living thing. We used to have a place in the food chain.”
While Griffith was conscientious about the safety of the dogs, when it came to herself, she was absolutely fearless in her hunt for photographs. That drive led her to some remote locations where, had the bus broken down, it was unlikely that help would have arrived before winter set in.
“I was only going to do this once, so I was to see it and photograph it,” Griffith said emphatically. “What I do for my dogs is done for me, I’m just passing it on. I’m part of the instrument for their care and well being. I feel well cared for on this planet; it doesn’t matter where I go. I feel like I belong here, like the planet is designed to support my life, up to a point; past that time, I should just graciously go. I was never frightened of being in the wild, as it were. That wasn’t scary to me, ever.”
They’d been on the road a little over two months when Lucille finally made her way through Fairbanks and rolled across the 66th parallel, leaving behind pretty much every vestige of civilization and putting Griffith within 500 miles of her goal: the Arctic Ocean. Covering that distance on the pot-holed washboard of the Dalton Highway took five days, during which Griffith began to notice a change in Hugger and Comfort’s behavior.
They’d been animated for most of the trip, but as they began crossing the tundra, where signs of wildlife were limited to the sighting of a single crow and one musk ox, the dogs were initially glued to the windows, then settled into a state of tranquility.
“I think an awareness of how barren this place was registered on the dogs, probably on the level of What the hell are we going to eat if this bus breaks down? Or maybe I’m projecting,” Griffith said.
“This is really what I think was going on,” she continued. “The light, and the mist, and the earth itself have a responsiveness that I’ve not experienced anywhere else. It’s as if the earth is aware that you’re there. I think at one point, probably most of the globe was like that and because of all the changes we’ve made, we’ve lost it.
“I had a sense of being someplace sacred—that this was not just about me looking at the land, but that the land and the light were looking at me, too. Dogs are very sensitive to light. I’d be surprised if they didn’t feel that, as well. They certainly grew very peaceful.”
Griffith’s own sense of tranquility merged with the dogs’ as they became immersed in what she would refer to later as “the secret life of light.” Even so, as they neared the Arctic Ocean, she was overcome by a wave of emotion.
“If I had to give a name to it, it was that in that place, I felt very loved,” Griffith said quietly. Her desire to understand where she was in her life and to integrate the loss of her loved ones had been fulfilled.
“Everything in its own way contributes to sustaining life. Even though it may not appear that way at the time, invariably, the turn things take is life-affirming. Even dying is life-affirming,” she continued.
She was grateful to the dogs, not only for their company and protection but also, because she was aware how much her own sense of well being played off them.
“My gratitude for them is greater than it ever could have been without the trip. There were times when it was incredibly lonely and they were such emotional support, so beautifully present and attentive.” Knowing that dogs have an ability to key in on illness in people, Griffith observed how they reacted to her from day to day. Their responses became an important part of what she called their “feedback circle,” sometimes on a barely conscious level.
“We’re not always aware of it, but our dogs are constantly checking on us, watching and being mindful of us. In the bus, that was so obvious,” said Griffith. There was another animal Griffith appreciated having along for most of the trip. “I swear the only reason I got there and back alive was because of the crows.
They would cue me when to stop and where to park for the night. I would just pay attention and hear in the way you hear when you have a dialogue with a dog. As a result, every time we broke down, it was near was somebody who could fix [the problem]. Every single time.”
After much anticipation and five days on the tundra, Lucille delivered the trio to Deadhorse. To Griffith’s intense disappointment, that was as far as the dogs (and Lucille) were allowed to go. A bus owned by the oil company took her to the beach at Prudhoe Bay, where she was permitted to spend only 10 minutes.
“I was pretty surprised to discover that the only way I was going to be able to actually see and touch my destination was by the grace of the oil company. Of course, they limit what you see for a very good reason: what they’re doing there. The amount of destruction of the environment is significant. And there’s nothing worse than a woman with a camera, you know,” said Griffith.
Despite her restricted access, Griffith rejoined Hugger and Comfort feeling electrified by the ocean. She was also honest enough to recognize the part she had played in the incongruity of that day.
“There was an irony in having to confront my own contribution to irresponsible living,” she reflected. After all, she’d driven there in a diesel-fueled bus that got roughly nine miles per gallon, and the final stretch of highway only existed to support the Trans- Alaska Pipeline, which was built to carry oil from Prudhoe Bay to Valdez.
“What was I doing to help the environment?” she asked rhetorically. “I was in this place that’s so important to preserve, and yet I was a contributor to its demise. I had to face that truth. It was very troubling.”
It was another nine months before Lucille delivered the pack of three safely back to Maine by way of Tucson, Arizona. They arrived on June 6, 2009, exactly one year after they’d set out. By the time Griffith finalized The Secret Life of Light project in 2014, she realized that the sense of serenity she’d felt above the 66th parallel had stayed with her.
“The opportunity to experience that place was a gift. It came at a time in my life when the questions of death and dying were so primary. I feel as if that experience has paved the way for me to go into the last stage of my life. I’m ready to go, whenever,” Griffith said easily.
“There was a moment when we were very far back,” she remembered. “We were about 150 miles from anybody. It was, you know, If this bus doesn’t start tomorrow morning and if the dish doesn’t work, we could just die here. I did go through the process of okay, what would I do? Night came down as I thought that through, but then the sun came up, the bus started and we went on.”
For more examples of Griffith’s work, go to fineartphotographyoflindagriffith.com.
Dog's Life: Travel
Help finding a dog-friendly room at the inn.
Doors slammed in our faces as we walked from hostel to hostel in the Patagonian city of Punta Arenas.
“Can we stay here with our dog?” I’d ask. “She’s well-behaved, trained, and—”
We heard “no” for at least a half hour. Or if the answer wasn’t “no,” it was “She can stay tied up outside.”
Having pedaled our bikes all day in punishing headwinds, trudging across the city looking for pet-friendly accommodation was not what my partner and I wanted to be doing.
In the end, the one affordable place that admitted dogs was fully booked, so we finally relented and signed ourselves into the city’s most expensive dog-friendly accommodation.
Over the past two years, we have visited 23 European and South American countries accompanied by our dog, Sora, mostly by bicycle. In many places, dogs are not viewed as members of the family. They are seen as dirty, untrained animals who belong on the streets, behind fences or on top of roofs barking all day long to protect the property.
Even in dog-friendly countries, finding accommodation with a dog in tow is not always easy. Over time, however, we have developed several tactics that have increased our success rate. While following our advice doesn’t guarantee that a hotel will permit your dog, it should increase the odds.
Book in advance. When we have a set arrival date, we often book ahead. The site Booking.com is great, as it allows you to filter search results by those that are pet-friendly. But be sure to read the fine print. Some places say they they’re pet-friendly, but require prior approval. Or you’ll arrive and find that they only permit small dogs. Specify that you’ll have your well-behaved pup with you, and call before booking if you have doubts.
Avoid large nationwide chains. While some, such as Kimpton and La Quinta, are pet-friendly, many are not, and they tend to have stricter policies that are applied across the entire chain. Local hotels or regional chains are sometimes more open to bending the rules (or creating new ones on the spot).
Show and tell. Because not everyone’s a dog-lover, it often helps to share a bit about your dog. Our standard spiel goes something along the lines of, “She’s well-behaved, trained, does not bark and will not go to the bathroom inside.” If the staff is still unsure, we introduce them to Sora and have her do a few of her tricks to demonstrate that she listens and obeys commands. Many have never seen a well-trained dog, and this usually helps assuage fears they may have about accepting a dog as a guest.
Provide references. Before leaving a hotel, ask a member of the staff to write a short review about your stay on company letterhead. Show this whenever you need to do a bit more persuading. Having a reference from another hotel is a great way to establish your credibility and prove that your pup does not cause problems.
Dog hair, do care! Sora tends to leave behind piles of hair wherever we go. This can be a major put-off for hotels, which have to deal with it after you leave. We travel with a pet brush and give Sora a thorough brushing before our stay, reducing the amount she leaves behind and making cleaning easier for the staff.
Slumber party. At home, Sora never slept with us on our bed, but we’ve relaxed the rules since we’ve been traveling. Now, there’s no keeping her off! Since her hair sticks to comforters and bedspreads like a magnet, we always bring her bed inside with us, and place it on top of the bed. Another option is to ask the staff for an extra sheet and put it on top of the regular bedding. Bonus points if you bring your own from home.
Make some noise. If outside noise like voices or footsteps send your dog into protective barking mode while you’re away, try to drown out sounds by turning the TV on low volume or using a white-noise machine, either via an app on your phone or bringing one from home.
Enter armed and ready. Whether we’ve been gone for five minutes or several hours, Sora welcomes us back with high-pitched barks, which can disturb others. So, we come in armed and ready with treats to distract her. We get right to business by asking her to perform a series of tricks, keeping her focus on the reward rather than the excitement of our return. When all else fails, we leash her and take her outside. Know what motivates your pup and use it to avoid behaviors that may affect the hotel staff or other guests’ comfort.
Here’s the most important advice of all: be honest about your dog. If your dog barks constantly when you’re gone, is prone to accidents inside or is destructive, then he or she may not be the best candidate for proving that dogs can be well-behaved guests. A poor experience with a single dog can put a hotel off the whole idea, ruining the option for other pups. If hotels are not the best option for your pup, look into cabins or apartment stays that minimize disturbance to others.
Dog's Life: Travel
From the moment my partner, Dave Hoch, and I decided to embark on a world cycling tour in 2015, our Australian Shepherd, Sora, was a crucial member of the team. Leaving her behind wasn’t an option. Sora is part of our pack: if we go, she goes. After years of work and training, Sora—whom Dave had adopted in 2008 as a “last chance,” three-year-old project dog—had become a well-behaved adventure companion. However, she never seemed to shake her mistrust of new people and need to challenge other dogs, and we came to accept that this was just part of who she was. So, imagine my surprise when I walked out of our hotel in a Chilean Altiplano village earlier this year and saw Sora standing between two preteenagers, being vigorously petted. They said that their own Australian Shepherd had recently passed away, and Sora reminded them of their pup.
Why was I surprised? Sora is not exactly kid-friendly. Their uncontrolled movements and loud noises terrify her, and she tends to react by growling and lunging. Yet, these two young people got in her face, crowded her and petted her like she was the dog they once had. And she seemed to revel in the attention.
Who is this dog?
The answer to that question begins with what turned out to be an experiment in trust. Determined to have Sora with us on our trek, we focused on providing her with opportunities to associate strangers with positive experiences. The program relied on our understanding of Sora’s needs, explicit communication and treats—lots of treats.
From the beginning of our tour, which started in Norway, we allowed frequent, short interactions with inquisitive strangers on the street or in the homes of hosts along our route. We overcame language barriers by demonstrating how to meet Sora while avoiding direct eye contact with her; how to stand next to, not over, her; and where to pet her (under her chin). Slowly, Sora began to form positive associations with strangers. She began wagging her tail at initial greetings, and would sidle up to people and solicit their attention. As her confidence grew, so did our confidence in her.
Once we hit the Balkans, we no longer feared her reaction to humans. Dogs, however, were another matter. There, dogs roam the streets, and when a new tail comes to town, everyone wants to get in on the greetings. To assuage our anxieties , we developed a routine that worked for Sora.
We never allowed head-on meetings. Instead, other dogs got their sniff on from behind as we petted and praised her. We observed her body language: was she stiff and ready to fight, or was she wagging her tail and grunting, which signified her intent to play? As we made it possible for Sora to engage with dogs gradually and on her terms, she became more relaxed and far less combative.
In more than 15 months of travel through 20 countries, we accomplished a feat we previously thought impossible. Taking Sora out of our home environment, where encounters with new people and dogs occurred only occasionally, the series of micro-introductions while traveling transformed her into a more social, confident dog. While she still has moments of distrust, her behavior has evolved from a handicap to an occasional slip.
We have walked Sora through the streets of busy cities like Istanbul, Turkey, and Santiago, Chile, where dogs sprinted toward us in droves, and stayed in the homes of complete strangers with both children and dogs. This was made possible by exposure, being clear with others about what she needs and taking it day-by-day.
Sora sleeps at our feet each night and snuggles between us each morning. She’s a constant reminder to play, and helps us meet new friends. As we zoom by, kids squeal and adults grin. Having her with us amplifies the adventure.For more on Jen, Dave and Sora’s big adventure, go to longhaultrekkers.com
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