THE ADVENTURES OF JUNO: ROAD TRIP EDITION

Since finding out that Juno has a heart condition, I’ve come to the realisation that this could very well be her last summer with us. Which got me thinking about past summers and the many, many drives to the cabin we have made with her.

Those six-hour drives are always an adventure. We have a pretty good system in place now but in the beginning, things didn’t always go so smooth. On one of our very first trips, we made some bad decisions which ended up in a big mess. 

As you can imagine, Juno had something to do with that.

Who me?

Because Juno is so big (and a princess) she takes up the entire back seat of the truck, leaving the floor of the front passenger seat as the only available interior storage space. These days I pack smarter but on this particular morning I had no less than a large duffel bag, a backpack, my pillow, and three tote bags full of groceries where my feet should have been. Which left me jammed into a human pretzel, sitting cross-legged on the seat.

Like every good Canadian on a road trip (particularly those whose partners make them get up for a 4 A.M. departure) a couple hours into the trip we stopped at a Tim Horton’s to grab breakfast and coffee for the road. Since every square inch of the truck was full of stuff including, for some reason, all the cup holders, I was then left jammed into a human pretzel, sitting cross-legged on the seat, with a lap full of bagel sandwiches and a tray of hot coffees in hand. This wouldn’t have been anything more than an annoyance had we not decided to stop at a gas station to fill the truck immediately after our stop at Tim Horton’s.

Now, for this story to really make sense you have to understand one crucial piece of information. Gas station attendants, at least according to Juno, embody all that is evil and wrong in the world. As these devils in neon safety vests wielding nozzle and squeegee approach the vehicle, Juno springs into action to protect the life and property of those she loves. With teeth bared and spit flying, Juno matches their every step from inside the car, barking, growling and leaving a trail of snot on every single window as she goes in her attempt at warding off the threat. Trying to calm her down is futile. She goes into some sort of trance that is broken only when the attendant retreats to an acceptable distance.

Always on the lookout, usually through a snot-stained window

I’m not sure how or why we forgot about this particularly important piece of information as we decided the order of our stops that morning, but as Mark hopped out of the truck and headed inside the gas station to pay, I was quickly reminded.

A low growl emerged from the backseat as soon as Juno spotted the attendant walking toward the truck.

Oh shit.

As her displeasure intensified I frantically searched for a safe spot to put the food and drinks while she was distracted by the attendant fiddling with the gas cap. But there was really nowhere to put anything. I silently willed the attendant to just stay standing at the nozzle so Juno would continue to focus her furor at the back driver side window, leaving me and our breakfast safe in the front seat.

I thought I might just get away with it, but then he grabbed the squeegee.

As soon as that thing hit the windshield, Juno leaped into the front seat lunging, barking, and biting at it through the window. I made a half-assed attempt to calm her down by telling her to “leave it” and grabbing for her collar with one hand while balancing the hot drinks with the other and trying to shield myself from flailing paws and whipping tail.

By this point I’m sure the attendant knew what was happening inside the truck. He could clearly see that the dog was losing her mind and that I was sitting defenceless under a pile of takeout, my efforts to calm her down being completely ineffective. He seemed unconcerned by the big angry dog and went about cleaning the windshield and diver side window at a rather unhurried pace. I hoped he might use his better judgement and cut his window cleaning short, putting an end to the insanity that was happening inside the truck. I was not so lucky.

To this day I don’t know if he decided to wash the passenger side window due to an unfailing commitment to do his job to the fullest or if he just thought it would be funny to see what happened. Whatever the reason, he made his way over to my side of the truck. Juno followed and brought all her slobbery hysteria with her.

My attempts at protecting the food and drinks on my lap were soon abandoned as I simply focused on minimizing my injuries as our 130 lb. dog began using me as a springboard from which to launch her defensive attack. I lost all awareness of time and space as I curled myself as close to a fetal position as possible, my feeble cries of “leave it” drowned out by her deep barks and growls.

It was over almost as quickly as it had begun. As the attendant, now satisfied with his work, returned the nozzle and squeegee to their homes and retreated to the building, Juno hopped into the backseat and laid down quite obviously convinced that she had saved the day once again.

I looked down to assess the damage. The breakfast sandwiches had somehow made it through unscathed, but the coffees had not survived. Mark’s extra large Double Double was now soaking into my lap, the seat, and everything on the floor where my feet should have been. I used the few napkins from the takeout bag to try and sop up what I could, knowing we still had a four-hour drive ahead of us. I did my best to wipe the dog slobber out of my hair and off my shoulders and considered the fact that I wasn’t noticeably bleeding from anywhere a win.

Mark returned to the truck and slowly opened the door with a worried look on his face. “What happened?” he asked me. I tore into him with a breathless rant about how he didn’t train his dog and now she acts like a rabid animal every time we fill up with gas which had left me with a coffee-soaked pillow. A combination of embarrassment and frustration at not being able to control her had left me a little salty.

A few minutes later as we headed off down the road Juno reached over the arm rest and nuzzled her nose against my elbow, her eyes looking up as me as if to ask if she had done a good job. Or maybe to ask for forgiveness. Whatever her intentions, her sweet face made my heart melt and my anger fade away, as it always does. I’ve never been good at staying mad at her.

Now three years later, Juno still has the same reaction to gas station attendants, but Mark and I have learnt our lesson. Gas first, breakfast second.

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