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Written from the point of view of Bayley, Linda Vestal’s dog.

I am a homebody at heart.

I usually prefer to lie in my bed, licking and scratching my paws to my heart’s content. Beyond the occasional trip out to the side yard or by my food bowl to see if anything interesting got put in there, I easily can spend my days and nights upon my pile of blankets or bed dreaming away the hours.

From time to time, my people take me in the car for a ride. I have mixed feelings about riding in the car. When my people put my collar around my neck and lead me to the car, I never know where I’ll end up.

Sometimes, these rides take me on an adventure to the park, where we walk around in circles and I get the chance to show just how antisocial I can be by panting excitedly and barking at anything that moves.

I probably could cool it on the barking a little bit, but since my people have come to expect it, they might be disappointed if I did not at least pretend to be disturbed when we go out.

Other times, I’ve tagged along when my human mommy leaves to pick up my human brother and sister, Christopher and Hannah, from work. It’s always exciting to see their reaction when they see me. I get lots of extra attention on those trips home.

These adventures are generally short-lived, and I am soon back in my bed, dreaming of what “could have been” had my people let me off my leash long enough to catch a squirrel or two.

Sometimes those trips in the car take me straight to the veterinarian’s office — known as the V-E-T to you puppies whose owners think spelling out the word disguises where the car is headed.

At this place, they often give shots and do various other things that I’d rather not talk about.

When I was a puppy, only as big as my human mommy’s hand, I would ride along either in a box or held by Hannah or Christopher. I felt anxious as the motion from the car made my tummy feel a bit off balance.

At first I just whined, but as I grew, my reaction became much more pronounced.

One time, my family decided to take me on a trip to one of their favorite pet supply stores in Greensboro. The ride there went fine; I was a little anxious as usual.

On the ride home, however, I began to release the contents of my stomach. Hannah took a direct hit and was covered instantly.

As my human parents pulled over to take a look at the damage, it was soon decided we’d all be better off just going straight home rather than try to clean up on the side of the road.

I was so embarrassed, but what’s a puppy to do when his tummy is churning?

A few more trial runs confirmed that I was not suited to being a car dog. The longest trip I could handle was the 15 minute drive to the veterinarian’s office; and only then if I did not eat or drink anything before the trip.

For a couple of years, this was basically the only place that I went in the car. There are very few places that, for reasons beyond my understanding, allow dogs, so I knew I was not missing much by staying close to home.

When my veterinarian moved his practice to Greensboro, my human family had to figure out a new game plan on how to get me to his office with minimal sickness and mess.

By this time, they had a conversion van that they had bought to deliver phone books and to be a second vehicle. It had a wide open space in the back. They knew that I enjoyed getting inside the van while it was not moving, so they decided to try to let me be in the back by myself. At least if I got sick, no one would be in the crossfire.

My human daddy packed me up for a trip to the vet. I nervously walked around the back of the van for part of the trip. Eventually I felt calm enough to lie down and relax a bit. We arrived without incident and celebrated this successful journey as we shared the news with the rest of the family upon our return.

It seemed they had found the key to being able to take me on a few short trips. They began to test the waters, watching me closely for signs I might be on the edge of getting sick.

Eventually, they bravely tried me once again in the car, discovering I could now handle those trips as well.

Last Friday, as my human mommy put me in the car, she was amazed once again at how much I had changed over the years. I had gone from a frightened, anxiety-ridden puppy to a mellow older dog with some experience under my belt. While I probably will never consider a car or van ride one of my life’s best moments, I am able to tolerate them in moderation and almost fall asleep as I get comfortable on the back seat along the way.

Bayley’s “mom,” Linda Vestal, is a wife, mother, daughter, sister and friend living in Gibsonville. Contact her with comments or story ideas at lindavestal@triad. rr.com.