Life is Good if You’re a Lab

Our vet said once that in her next life she wants to come back as a lab. Motivated by food and fetch, they wake happy, joyful at the prospect of another day of kibble, Kongs, belly rubs, and head scratches. Most would include walks on the list.

Not Maisie.

Let me clarify: leashed walks.

At home, she often requires bribes to leave the driveway. Once in the rhythm of the outing, she’ll be fine – most of the time. Sometimes she requires another dog for company. Others, she just stops. “Lazy Maisie” our neighbors call her.

Off-leash, she could romp forever. Beach. Woods. Field. One paw in the water ignites the zoomies. But on a van trip around the West, the threat of bears and mountain lions and rattlesnakes real, untethered walks would be rare. Which left us fearing that Lazy Maisie would turn into Crazy Maisie. How would she survive thousands of miles in a van without regular exercise? How would we survive?

Just fine, it turns out.

As our vet said, labs are inherently content. Maisie was perfectly happy nestled in her nest for hours and hours of driving, or while visiting friends along the way.

She was perfectly happy exploring trails and parks and beaches off-leash.

She was even happy on-leash if the day was young and the terrain unique.

She was not, however, interested in walks around neighborhoods or sidewalks or dirt roads or paths that led her away from campsites or friends’ homes, or anywhere that spelled home base. It was if a force field held her captive in the Seattle yard of our pals Roger and Evelyn. Across Lake Washington in Issaquah, our host Greg found her walking reticence hilarious. “She is not a dog,” he said.

Yet as irritating as I found the Frozen Paw Syndrome, as impatient as I grew with my need for exercise thwarted by her disdain for it, I realize now as we begin the journey home, that Maisie was the perfect canine companion for our #vanlife adventure. She loved the hours and hours of undisturbed rest in the back of the RAV4 en route to Denver and the 5,199 miles logged in Abbey Road, her nest tucked behind the van’s driver and passenger seats. She was grateful for rest stops and never met a campsite she didn’t like. She relished our constant presence. And she was never perkier than when in the company of other dogs and kids.

Countless people stopped to pat her, ask if she’s full grown (yes), and admire her mellowness. “Labs are usually hyper,” we heard again, and again.

She has her moments, but for the most part, she is chill, and what more could we want in a dog on a cross-country road trip?

Well, one that walks when I want to walk.