The wee ones have never liked traveling in the car. Granted, most of their trips end up at the vet's, but I've tried from time to time taking them for joy rides and they just don't like being in the car. It's odd to me because all their predecessors have enjoyed and looked forward to riding around and sniffing the breeze through the cracked window and maybe stopping for some take out somewhere.
Mojo and Coco aren't having any of it. They view the car with suspicion. Things are somewhat improved if I put them in their carriers - I guess they feel a little more secure that way - but even then they will pant and shake and pant and shake until the whole car trembles.
I would like to begin taking them on small overnight trips, so I'm trying again to convince them that riding with Mom is a fun thing and not a punishment. Today I needed to run a few errands around town and decided it was time for the next lesson. I scooped them up and put them in the car and away we went.
Coco settled down, more or less, in the passenger seat and while she wasn't exactly hopping up and down with joyful excitement, she conveyed the sentiment that it's better to be with Mom than be left behind. Mojo, on the other hand, was in a complete state of panic. I had hoped that the quieter engine of Big Red might alleviate some of his aversion to riding, but it doesn't seem to make any difference at all. I kept up a constant chatter, telling them how good they were and how much fun this is. "Yeah, right," they responded.
We stopped at the bank, where I knew the drive-in teller would give them each a milk bone. They were unimpressed. A far cry from the attitude that Bebop and Xana had about the bank. They both came to the conclusion that they had a milk bone balance there and were royally miffed on the rare occasion that the teller happened to be out of milk bones.
We stopped to fill up with gas. They really didn't like Mom leaving them in the car for the process, even though she was right outside the window the whole time.
We went to a hamburger joint and showed them that people would hand food right out the window to them. They turned their little noses up in disdain. Eat junk food? Not them, thank you very much.
So we went home, our lesson over for the day. Mojo almost fell to his knees and kissed the ground, he was so happy to be home. Coco, I think, is going to catch on and decide that going with Mom can be a good thing and won't necessarily include a needle in the posterior.
Mojo? I don't know. It may be a long, hard process to convince him. A harder head I've never encountered in a little dog.