Packing, Road Tripping, and an Airbnb
Be sure to read The Trip That Changed Everything, Part 1 of this road trip with a service dog travel series.
We didn’t have time to “get ready.” Not really. This road trip with a service dog came together fast — a medical procedure three hours away, turned into a mini-vacation almost overnight. There wasn’t time for last-minute drills or refresher sessions. But Lady Priscilla had already been putting in the work for months.
Together, we’d trained with Emily, a wonderful private trainer at PetSmart, and built a foundation through structured outings and progressive challenges. We practiced restaurant-style table manners at Ikea, navigated dog-friendly stores like Lowe’s and Bass Pro, and worked through a relaxation protocol that had her calmly lying still while I jumped, clapped, and ran circles around her like a chaos gremlin in sneakers.
She knew how to focus in motion. “Tunnel” had become second nature. Most importantly, she knew us. But as we started packing, it suddenly felt like we’d missed something critical. Like we were walking into the unknown — and maybe we weren’t ready.
Packing Up
We brought the crate — not her usual heavy one, but a “lightweight” (still heavy and awkward) wire version we picked up on the way. She sleeps most deeply in her crate, so we didn’t want to leave that behind.
We packed her familiar crate mat, a snuffle mat, a couple of toys, and her fluoxetine (doggy Prozac, a tiny maintenance dose she’s been on since adoption). Dry food was portioned into zip-top bags, with a few toppers and treats thrown in. It all fit neatly into the big tote bag we got from the shelter. We also brought collapsible food and water bowls for easy access.
Dad? Totally relaxed. “We’ll deal with it,” he said, like he always does. I, on the other hand, felt like the adult in charge of… well, everything. The travel, the dog, the procedure, the pacing, the what-ifs.
We notified both the Airbnb and the hotel. The Airbnb host responded with a casual “No problem.” The hotel didn’t ask any questions — just included a checkbox in the online reservation form.
Spoiler: She was more than ready.
Road Tested
Fortunately, the car was familiar territory.
Lady Priscilla loves long rides — once she realized she didn’t have to hide. In the early days, she’d wedge herself between the seats or try to disappear entirely. But now? Now she rides like she was born for it.
We’d already upgraded her seatbelt setup. The first one threaded through the standard buckle, but it only took two trips for her to figure out how to pop the latch herself. (Dutch Shepherd problem-solving at its finest.) So we switched to a model that clips over the headrest, and she’s been secure and content ever since.
The ride itself was about three hours. We stopped every hour or so to stretch our legs and offer her water. The rest of the time, she calmly listened to our audiobook — Cassidy Hutchinson’s Enough. Ears perked, eyes soft, riding like the world’s most thoughtful political analyst in a tactical vest.
Welcome Home, Sort Of
The Airbnb was a two-bedroom house with a spacious open floor plan. Getting in was the first challenge — awkward steps led up the hill to the front door, and while I struggled with the crate, Lady Priscilla watched from the car with what I can only describe as smug amusement.
The real surprise came the moment Dad got her out of the car: an unleashed pit bull came barreling toward us from down the street.
Lady Priscilla didn’t wait for instruction. She immediately jumped back into the car. Calm, fast, smart. The pit bull’s owner called him back, and thankfully he seemed friendly enough — tied to the porch across the corner for the remainder of our stay. She adjusted quickly and never reacted again.
Inside, she walked in like she owned the place. A bit of polite sniffing, a little reconnaissance, and then she settled. Dad told her, “This is home for the next two days,” and she accepted it without question.
Except for one thing: she wouldn’t pee.
Every time we stepped outside for a smoke break, we brought her along. She sniffed the lawn, explored the edges… but would not go. Not even a squat. Hours passed.
Finally, I had a hunch. I took her down the stairs and across the street — just far enough to feel like a “different” space. And there, she peed like her life depended on it.
Turns out, she had decided that the Airbnb lawn — like the house itself — was too nice to soil. She wasn’t just adapting. She was being respectful. A polite guest with high standards.
Next Time: A Mirror, a Breakfast Buffet, and a Service Dog Showdown
Our next stop on the inaugural road trip with a service dog was a hotel in St. Augustine — a no-pets property, mind you, with a mirror on the wall, a busy breakfast buffet, and a very dramatic (and very questionable) “service dog” to contend with. Lady Priscilla handled it all with quiet poise… and one beautifully timed mic drop. Read Part 2.2: Hotels, Restaurants, and Training Truths to continue the adventure.
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