On August 13, 2007, I left Ithaca, NY with my 11-year-old English Cocker Spaniel and headed to Anchorage, Alaska. The first two installments can be found by clicking the "Traveling with Beau" link on the upper right-hand corner of the Home Page. In the last blog, Beau and I were on a large ferry crossing Lake Michigan to Wisconsin.

Inhaling the brisk sea air from the top deck of the SS Badger as it steamed across Lake Michigan, I wondered how Beau and his gaggle of new canine friends were doing on the deck below. In my dreamlike trance, I imagined them having a big party while sporting the green bandannas they had all been given as they boarded the ship in Michigan.

Just before 11:00am--the four-hour lake crossing was artificially truncated by a one-hour change to Central time--the SS Badger slipped into Manitowoc, Wisconsin. Jostling my way down the narrow steps among hundreds of other people scurrying to depart the ship, I scanned the deck for my silver jeep among the vehicles that were unloaded first. Car after car spewed from the hold by rushing valet attendants, but mine was not among them. "So much for first on and first off," I said out loud to no one in particular. I hurried along the rows of waiting cars until reaching the end of the line, then doubled  back, darting among rivulets of cars the were hastily departing the ferry so they did not have to endure the log jam otherwise waiting for them in town. Still no jeep! Still no Beau!

Just then, my jeep darted past me and slid obliquely into a narrow aperture vacated by a departing car. Hours earlier, I had left all four windows open just a few inches, but now the passenger side window was wide open and there was Beau, sitting fully erect, looking straight ahead. As his eye caught  mine, he yelped and almost exploded through the window into my outstretched arms even before the jeep came to a full stop. I was too relieved to scold the young driver for foolishly opening the window. At the same time, I could not help but wonder if, in the freedom of the great ship's hold, perhaps the dogs had organized quite a party after all.

We drove west and gently north across Wisconsin enjoying the farmland and reminiscing about the five years we had spent in Madison in the mid 1980s while I was teaching in the recently-opened veterinary school. I had taken the job because of my love for the dairy industry, and seeing farms rich in Holstein cows along the drive brought back fond memories. 

At the little town of Weyauwega, we strolled up the main street and found a park for lunch. A local woman stopped to visit with Beau and told us that during a March night in 1996, a train with 37 cars loaded with propane and other combustibles derailed just north of town. It caused such explosions, fires and concerns of residual toxins that the whole town was evacuated. People were hastily forced from their homes during the night, leaving pets behind anticipating they would be back in hours. As day three arrived and increasingly-agitated pet owners threatened to break through security lines to rescue their pets, the governor finally ordered the Wisconsin National Guard to intercede. They removed pets from houses and reunited them with their families. In some respects, this was a learning exercise for the handling of animals during Hurricane Katrina a decade later. 

in Nellesville, Wisc.In Neillsville, we happened upon Chatty Belle, the World's Largest Talking Cow. Despite being in peaceful Amish country, I was pretty disappointed to learn that the massive bovine park was not dog-friendly! Continuing to our evening destination in Eau Claire with an hour to spare before the sun set, we located a nice camping site for our little tent. However, the clouds appeared menacing and the wind had a strange curdling sound, so we pulled up stakes and chose the sparkling-clean Econo Lodge instead. Despite it being a pet-friendly motel, too many men and women were sneaking their dogs in the back door and putting them in rooms not reserved for pets rather than pay the modest surcharge. It is another example of why the irresponsibility of a few people makes the integration of pets into our social culture more difficult.

In the wee hours of the morning, we awoke to an thunderous storm viciously slamming the windows of our motel. Beau left his blanket to snuggle closer to me as if to acknowledge we were fortunate not to be camping. We found out just how fortunate the next morning.

Dr. Smith welcomes comments at dfs6@cornell.edu