Monday, December 16, 2024.

New Market.

I found that the days leading up to this trip had me realizing I had done very little, if any, true planning. I did not know where I would park or how I would shower, nor how exactly sleeping in my 1993 Pathfinder with Bear would go.

To make things worse, I found my entire trip jeopardized just the day before I was supposed to depart. It did, however, solve my problem of figuring out how sleeping in the Pathfinder would go. That becomes a non-issue when the Pathfinder is decommissioned.

Only ten minutes away from my home, my driver’s side brakes gave out, causing me to come off the road in the already packed car. The tree beside the ditch won that fight.

However, my early morning plans on December 17th were also cancelled, meaning should the trip go on, I could leave earlier than anticipated. The plan remained intact, thankfully, as I was able use my dad’s 2008 Nissan Frontier, which I have previously used as a goat-hauler. It can fit twenty-two goats in the truck bed if you wish, if you were wondering.

Tuesday, December 17, 2024

Maryville, Chattanooga, Collegedale and Ooltewah.

The unexpected early departure actually opened up a better stop in Maryville, as I would originally be cutting it rather close to closing time at Bear Grounds Coffee Shop. Instead, I got there early in the morning, got myself one of their specialty drinks and my regular there, a Log Cabin, as well as a treat for Bear and a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich. Despite the hiccups in my trip, all was going well.

About five minutes after I started thinking this, Bear flopped his body over the middle console and did some home demolition on my Log Cabin. I have found that one cannot remain mad at a puppy for an extended period, even after he spills a delicious specialty coffee all over the front of your truck. Something about that slobbery face just doesn’t allow it. Spoiled son of a bitch.

After we left Bear Grounds, we did not stop again until we reached Chattanooga, Tennessee.

The first thing Bear did was poop in a bush. This was my first time picking up dog poop, as Bear is a working dog and is never in an area where this is a concern. If you have never struggled to reach into a bush to scoop falling logs, consider yourself lucky. It is not a joy. However, the janitor standing nearby found it rather entertaining.

For a city as touristy as Chattanooga, I thought that the downtown area would be one with lots of pet-friendly shops and restaurants to choose from. This was not the case. Quite the opposite. Google revealed only one downtown shop that would be suitable, and that was only the case if you were okay sitting inside while Bear enjoyed the company of fellow canines in the miniature dog park at that location. The yappy chihuahuas and Bear did not appear to relate well from their opposite sides of the fence. I also could not find the entrance. We pretended to be on a gentle lunchtime stroll instead of looking for a place we could enter.

Everywhere I looked, I saw stickers saying, “No pets,” which was rather disturbing and inconvenient for me and my companion. Eventually we stumbled upon Outpost Bar and Restaurant, which called out to me with its Tito’s sign that claimed it was the “vodka for dogs”. I did not let Bear drink. He is not even two yet alone twenty-one. I was not sure if this was merely an odd advertisement encouraged by modern-day brain-rot or a sign that this was my lunch spot, so I awkwardly opened the door and asked a patron if dogs were allowed. I found myself doing this almost a million times everywhere I visited.

The patron did not know, but the bartender overheard my asking and led me to the outdoor seating which was primed for furry friends. There were water dishes, tennis balls, and a nice turf surface for Bear to make himself comfortable on. I ordered a BBQ cheeseburger plain with bacon and gave Bear my fries. He ate half of them and nibbled on the rest while leaving them on the turf.

As I did with most everyone I met, I told the workers there about Bear, his job as a livestock guardian dog, and our Steinbeck-inspired journey. Two women came out the outdoor area to pet Bear as they left the restaurant. Bear loved the attention, something he would continue thriving on throughout the journey.

After lunch, I was not sure what to do, so we wandered aimlessly for a bit. Then I saw someone on the sidewalk eating an oatmeal cream pie, and I was reminded of the existence of Little Debbie Park.

This brought us to our next stop. An important part of my trip, at its core, was that I did not plan every aspect of the trip. I welcomed unexpected stops. It was an integral part of Steinbeck’s journey to rediscover America in his novel Travels With Charley, so it was important to me that I do the same. Otherwise, it would cease to be a break, burdened with stress and perceived inconvenience. If I did not plan or expect anything, I could appreciate everything. So, the drive to the Collegedale/Ooltewah area was taken with great joy.

I got there in the early afternoon and the park was well alive with friendly faces. Ooltewah is an interesting town. It is a vastly growing area encouraged by the tourism of the Little Debbie company, but it remains open and rural for the most part. It feels like something out of a Hallmark movie but without the necessary evil force of overt venture capitalism coming to destroy the residents’ way of life. Instead, it encourages capitalism from a distance with a beautiful mountain view and a simple satisfaction.

One of my first encounters here was a little boy on a scooter who approached Bear and I cautiously, asking to pet him. I told him that was fine, and he did so, countering for permission to hug Bear. Hesitantly, I allowed him to do so. Shortly after, I witnessed a middle-aged couple trying to figure out the logistics of a picture with the Christmas tree cake statue. After a few seconds of watching them struggle to my amusement, I offered my hand.

After that, the scooter boy, his even younger sister and his mother came up. We exchanged stories, and I learned that they, too, owned a Great Pyrenees-Anatolian Shepard cross.

“Who does that remind you of?” asked the mother.

“Wendell!” the little girl exclaimed with enthusiasm.

From what I gathered, their Wendell was getting old and slow, and they had not yet explained to the children what that meant. I envied them. My first family dog had passed away two years ago, a year before Bear stumbled into my life. I had been the one to find him, Roscoe, but I did not convey this part of my story with them. They would cross that bridge when Wendell crossed his own bridge. For now, I laughed and smiled with the family, who were now all hugging on Bear, holding tightly onto him. Bear was unenthused but did not react because I did not react. His face said plenty, though.

It has always astounded me how little it takes for children to be happy. I think we have a lot to learn from them. It takes far too much to improve our mood while the world seems to bog us down with gloom, and it is often quick that we succumb to negative emotions. A child, on the other hand, is brought to a smile that brightens their whole day by seeing a dog at the park.

After talking with this family, Bear and I took a walk across the four-lane to the Veteran’s Memorial Greenway.

There was not much to mention about the Veteran’s Memorial Greenway, but I did have to work particularly hard to pull Bear away from some of the memorial stones. Apparently desecrating the sacrifice of millions of our nation’s finest heroes was something Bear was determined to do. Thankfully, we compromised, and he defecated on the adjacent sidewalk instead.

Aside from that one-legged rudeness, the only thing of note from the greenway was the college-aged couple roller-skating. They passed by Bear and I numerous times, smiling and listening to their inner thoughts that said, “Awwww.” As Bear and I concluded our walk, it just so happened that they were about to leave themselves, and with that brief encounter our parking solution for the night was suggested: Walmart.

On our way back to Little Debbie Park, Bear and I were once again approached by curious strangers. My childhood warning of “Stranger, danger!” was ignored here and pretty much the entirety of the trip. This time, our resident curious strangers approached via sedan pulling up to our side. There were two passengers, presumably a mother and daughter, and the latter of them asked to pet Bear.

Per usual, Bear was a pooch of the people. I obliged, and the tale of my Travels with Bear was told. The two strangers absolutely loved it, going so far as to invite us, a fellow pair of strangers, to the Ooltewah High School Christmas Concert. This had not been on our agenda, nor had we known of its upcoming occurrence to begin with, but, of course, the importance of spontaneity on our trip remained.

Besides, it sounded like a nice way to spend the evening.

And it was. Bear and I killed some more time by reading and walking around the park until it was time for the concert. A man told us about his family’s Pyrenees and commented on how loyal the breed is.

Naturally, I can attest to this. Bear has proven extremely loyal to me, and to my goats as an extension of me over the nature of my business as Bales Goats.

Like I said, the Christmas concert was a nice way to spend the evening. When we first arrived, we took some pictures for a group of band kids and then a few more where, for some odd reason, they were carrying footballs. Beyond that, we spent our arrival working the crowd, myself for casual conversation and Bear for excessive pets. Spoiled son of a bitch.

As we began to walk through the door of the commons where the concert was being held, I heard my name.

“Lucas?” asked a confused female voice.

I turned around to see the face of a teammate from the women’s track and field team of my freshman year here at Austin Peay State University. She had transferred going into sophomore year, and we had not been super close, but close enough to recognize each other even in an unexpected venue such as this. Apparently, she was from Ooltewah.

My takeaway here was that it truly is a small world after all. I suppose I should not really be surprised by this. I watch a lot of movies and am rather familiar with the concept of the Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon, also known as the Six Degrees of Separation. Everyone can be connected to anyone else in six or less connections. We live in a very interconnected world. As such, it should never really be a surprise to run into familiar faces in unfamiliar places. Logistically, it just makes sense. It does not, however, change the level of shock factor with these encounters.

While at the concert, Bear and I made many new friends and even got our picture with Santa Claus. I found this funny because if you’ve ever watched all of the Air Bud movies, Santa’s dog in the Christmas ones (The Search for Santa Paws and Santa Buddies: The Legend of Santa Paws) is a Great Pyrenees. We stayed for a few songs and then headed out on Bear’s behalf.

After the initial performances were nearly perfect, they suffered the striking of a wrong note. While I myself enjoy a wide variety of music (especially based on my past three years’ worth of Spotify wrapped) with minimal judgement, Bear is quite the concert critic. After one mistake, he simply could not remain in the audience.

I pleaded with him to stay and settle down, but it was to no avail, and we were forced to call it a night.

That first night was something in and of itself. I had cleared the second-row seating entirely to give the two of us maximum sleeping space, but I discovered a major flaw in my road trip plans: The part where Bear was a livestock guardian dog. Neither of us got much of any sleep in the Ooltewah Walmart parking lot. Bear was busy doing his best to walk around and patrol the truck to protect his herd, me in this case, and I was busy getting woken up periodically by a Great Pyrenees stepping on me.

Eventually he settled with me sitting upright as normal and himself sprawled across the entirety of the row with his head resting on my lap. At least one of us was comfortable.

Wednesday, December 18, 2024.

Ooltewah, Dunlap, McMinnville and Murfreesboro.

The next morning, I woke up very sore. Sleeping in a truck is by no means comfortable, and it had been months since I had last done that to begin with. I did, fairly often, sleep in the same truck overnight on job sites with the goats throughout the summer. Over time, your body adjusts as it must, but in short spurts like this trip, you feel it.

Between my soreness and Bear’s tiredness from working all night, our first run together on the trip was not either of our bests. We found Ooltewah to be a fairly runnable area, taking advantage of the previously visited Little Debbie Park and Veteran’s Memorial Greenway. In addition to this, we ran through an adjacent subdivision that was one of the largest subdivisions I think I have ever been in. The whole place was an overly complicated maze of blue and grey cookie-cutter houses. I could never live in a house like that. Sure, they were nice, but they had tiny yards not remotely suitable for Bear or my goats, and they were all right on top of each other it seemed. The subdivision was a stark contrast to the rest of Ooltewah in this way.

By the time we finished our run, Bear and I were both hungry. I fixed him some kibble and water to enjoy while I cleaned myself up in the family restroom at Little Debbie Park.

Near our running location, there was a small bakery, aptly named The Bakery, where I intended to have breakfast based on my neighbor from back home’s recommendation. She told me all about how good it was, especially their chocolate éclair, when she and her late husband would take day trips down to the area. They always stocked up on Little Debbie cakes and whatever deliciousness they could find at The Bakery.

For this reason, a touch of sentimentality and a connection back home, Bear and I set out to go there ourselves. We were disappointed to find that they were closed for the day but discovered another breakfast spot in the same little strip. This place, 4 Corners Café, wasn’t much to look at from the outside. It had a few chairs and tables outside, all locked together and clearly not intended for current use. I ignored this and tied Bear to the railing outside as I went in to order.

As soon as I entered, I was met with the three faces currently in the restaurant, two customers and a worker named David. From what I gathered, David knew the customers and knew them well. I’m not sure what the conversation was about, but it was self-evident that the customers were going through something dramatic involving one of their daughters. It was not my business to inquire further, nor was I sure I even wanted to know.

David, on the other hand, was sharing very personal anecdotes with his own experiences in a similar situation, and all three appeared to be moved almost to the point of tears. I don’t think I have ever seen an employee or business owner connect so deeply to customers the way that David was. I would love to elaborate, but in all honesty, the situations at hand were far beyond my business and not my dirty laundry to air out for anyone reading this.

Even in my own experience with Bales Goats, I have not connected with customers like David had. I have made many acquaintances, and even some I consider actual friends like the owners of Bear Grounds back in Maryville, but I have never cried with my customers. Some would probably think that is an odd thing to want to do, but I think it shows how much one person can care. If one person can care that much in a business position, I think it speaks volumes about the potential that can be found in humanity.

I have always believed people are innately good, though corrupt and as tempted by sin as they may be.

To make this experience even more interesting, David found himself apologizing to me for holding me up and for crying in front of me.

“It’s all good,” I told him, “I’m just passing through on a road trip with my dog. I’m not on any kind of timeframe.”

He laughed, and the next thing I knew, he was asking all about the road trip, and how it was going, telling me about how Ooltewah has changed over the years, and about his friends and family, one of whom had been on the road living life for seven years before finally settling down and marrying.

I cannot imagine living on the road, sleeping at Walmart, and doing whatever excuse for showering I was doing in the public family restrooms for three-hundred and sixty-five times how long my own trip was planned for. I believe I would go crazy or marry someone, too.

Nonetheless, David shared his own aspirations for travel, which also came to end by his own marriage. The old ball and chain.

About that time, Bear stood up to be visible through the café windows.

“What’s your dog’s name?” David asked me.

“Bear.”

I saw a huge smile, something bittersweet but joyful, come across his face. He informed me that his own dog had been named Bear. His Bear had been a border collie, an absolute sweetheart who was let out every day to meet the neighbor when he got home from work because the whole neighborhood loved him that much. Unfortunately, David’s Bear had passed away in an accident earlier this year.

I think David almost cried again, but he stopped himself this time, proceeded to hand me my breakfast sandwich, and informed me he was upgrading my coffee to a 20-ounce free of charge. As he handed me my coffee, we made eye contact for a moment and he told me something that remained with me for the rest of the trip: “Be safe and have fun on your trip, for Bear, and for me.”

As I left, I promised him that we would.

Our next stop was Dunlap. The drive was mountainous, foggy, and made my ears pop.

Dunlap was planned due to its close proximity to Chattanooga and for a bit of family history. It was the town where my mom and aunts spent most of their childhood. I had not been in Dunlap since I was very young, and I remembered nothing more from my previous visits there than the name Andy’s Pizza.

As such, this was my only planned stop in Dunlap, and truthfully the only reason I wanted to add it to the trip. What can I say? Bear and I are both greatly motivated by food.

My roommate here at Austin Peay, Jack Fitzgerald, and I often watch Dave Portnoy’s One Bite Pizza Reviews on YouTube, and even send our own One Bite Pizza Reviews to each other when we try different pizzas, whether they are fresh, frozen, or anything in between. I thought that stopping at Andy’s for lunch would be nice.

One thing I failed to consider was the time change leaving Ooltewah. I’m not certain when the time actually changed, but when I arrived in Dunlap, it was way too early for lunch. My mom had suggested visiting the coke ovens and Overlook Mountain while I was there, which sounded nice but lonely.

Like Steinbeck, I preferred to situate myself where there was a wide variety of people. I could spend any day back home with just Bear and I if I wanted to. That’s called sitting in the goat pen, and I do it most evenings.

It was also supposed to rain. Instead of following mom’s suggestions, I went to see what was considered downtown Dunlap. It was decorated in overkill, looking like Christmas had thrown up with cheesy light-up deer being among the least obvious decorations. It was interesting to say the least. The only other marketing or promotion that I saw there was a lot of signage and verbiage portraying Dunlap as “Small Town U.S.A.”

Based on how my mom had described growing up in Dunlap, that would be a suitable proclamation. The Dunlap before me didn’t quite fit the bill. It was outdated, but it wasn’t really that small. It had a ton of traffic passing through. Crossing the street to use the bathroom at Tractor Supply was awful.

The primary supplier of the small town propaganda here was the Dunlap Mercantile. Once you stepped inside, it was quite different. It looked like any normal, decent downtown mercantile store. Bear and I stopped in to check it out, and we were met with more friendly faces. We met the owner, a long-haired man with a goatee and a cowboy hat named Cody.

Cody observed that Bear looked like a pup of his own, Bandit. Bandit had been the only survivor of an adopted stray’s litter of nine, and they had never known what breed he was, but he had a facial structure and thick fur that matched Bear’s. He also had double dew claws, apparently, which pretty much confirmed Bandit to be part Pyrenees.

As we talked, Bear drooled enough that I thought he had managed to pee with none of us noticing. When I went to wipe it up, I realized it was pure slobber and a great relief.

Cody proceeded to show every picture of Bandit that he had on his phone, ranging from the day he was born to earlier this week. Cody looked like a proud father. I think it is funny how people talk about their pets like they are their children. Myself included, of course. I have been Cody showing off pictures of Bear countless times.

If there was anything that people had in common, it was a love for dogs.

After hearing all about Bandit, I browsed for a short time longer and then went outside with Bear to wander aimlessly in a new town. We filled the truck up and as the truck was filling up, the slight chance of rain in the forecast came to full fruition. It was a monsoon, and we had still not gone to Andy’s.

I was not leaving without Andy’s, plus my stomach was growling louder than Bear growls when other dogs approach the goat fence.

I left Bear in the car as I ordered, and the two of us split the pizza once it was done. I gave it an 8.9/10, while judging how quickly Bear ate the crust, it was a 10/10. It was worth waiting in the truck in the storm, but it was not worth eating all of the pizza as we stayed parked, so we continued our road trip as we ate.

Our next planned stop was Murfreesboro, but since I was planning on being there all day on Thursday, I decided I would stop somewhere before for our next unplanned visit.

This visit ended up being McMinnville. Downtown McMinnville was even more inconvenient for canine compadres than downtown Chattanooga had been. It was a surprisingly large downtown area, but finding a pet-friendly anything there was like looking for a needle in a haystack if you were in the wrong haystack to begin with. Nonetheless, Bear didn’t need to sit in the car for the next three hours, so we braved the weather. Bear, being the young puppy that he is, loved the rain. He loves being dirty in general, but especially if water is involved. He adores a good pond or puddle. I do not. I was making Bear huddle under the awnings and what little bit of minimal cover existed there.

Bear was dragging me straight into it, so I made the most of it, as one must do, and went where Bear led while looking for places we could go inside. I eventually found a place, a restaurant, and though I was not hungry, I did want to be at least a little dry, so we made ourselves customers at Collins River BBQ & Café.

I ordered another bacon cheeseburger, this time with BBQ sauce, and used the crispy bacon strips to coax Bear into contentment while I waited for a break in the storm.

Eventually our break came, and we set out for Murfreesboro for the night. A break always comes when you need it, as the weather did that day and as this trip did for me personally.

The only type of break that doesn’t come when you feel like you need it is a bathroom break. They never come at a good time. Always when you’re lost and confused in a city you don’t know or understand even with Google and Maps. As was the case with my first experience in Murfreesboro.

When you put directions to a city on your phone, it takes you to the downtown district of that city, which is why I’ve spent the majority of my trip exploring downtown areas. The problem here is that Bear also had to use the bathroom. I took him by the leash and let him out as I frantically googled “pet-friendly shops near me,” something I searched for in every place I travelled.

There was one, just shy of a mile away, so Bear and I, dashing through the crowds like a one-horse open sleigh in the snow, made our way there as best we could.

It did not matter. We got there and the sign read “CLOSED. Sorry for any inconvenience.” They could not have been sorry enough for my inconvenience, and I will not say how I relieved myself, but just know that the Murfreesboro water district parking lot hates to see me pouring out a water bottle.

After that, I set out to find where I would sleep. I had hoped to park at a friend’s house, but that did not work out. Her parents are like my parents and that idea did not sit well with her father. Still, my time in Ooltewah had supplied me with what I thought was a universal place to park overnight.

Had the Walmart in Murfreesboro been like any normal Walmart, that would have been a solid assumption to make. This was not the case. The Murfreesboro Walmart was the fanciest Walmart I have ever seen. The place had a wooden fence and a pavilion that met you at the turn-in for the parking lot. Beyond that were signs that read “No truck parking” and “No overnight parking.”

Google, my best friend for this trip aside from Bear, informed me that Cracker Barrel also normally allows for overnight parking. I tried to call and confirm this, but Murfreesboro’s Cracker Barrel does not answer a phone.

After making one of the most dangerous drives of my life (because not a soul in Murfreesboro knows how to drive), Bear and I finally got there in one piece and confirmed it was okay to sleep there overnight.

We readjusted our sleeping arrangements, though, so that Bear and I just slept in the same seat we rode in. I slept as comfortably as one can in the driver’s side seat of a car while my passenger princess of a pup laid awkwardly but contently half in the floorboard and half in his seat. Bear stayed awake for some time watching guard, though it went mostly unnoticed except for a semi-truck that parked in front of us. Bear was very upset by this and growled for a while in an agitated state.

A lot of things went awry that day, but it was still a rather enjoyable journey. It was even more important then that I had not planned the trip to a t. If I had, I believe I would’ve been rather upset with how things had gone throughout the later half of the day. But since I did not, I took the day as it came with Bear at my side and laughing along the way at the troubles that had occurred. Life truly is just a matter of perspective.

Thursday, December 19, 2024.

Murfreesboro.

Bear and I both slept much better than the previous night. We slept until a little past 7:00 A.M., which is much later than either of us normally wake up. I let Bear out to do his business, then loaded up to head to our run location for the day: Barfield Crescent Park. My friend, teammate, and resident of Murfreesboro, Taylah Upshaw, had suggested it.

It had a good combination of short, paved walking trails and long nature trails. We did not explore the nature trails because I was worried that Bear might accidentally trip me up going around different ways than I was going, and I just wasn’t sure how fast we would actually be able to get going on them.

Bear really enjoyed the paved trails, though, and made a new friend who was a female poodle. I thought it funny to run into a poodle since that’s the type of dog that Charley was in Steinbeck’s novel. Beyond that, the run was just a normal run. We ended up leaving the park and running down a road with some really big, nice houses. There were a few farmhouses there, too, and one of them, Bear and I discovered, was the home of three goats. Bear’s instincts immediately kicked in, and I found that he was watching them rather intently, his head and tail both at attention. He did not want to leave. I admit it was nice to see some goats. I love my goats, and Bear loves goats, too, so it was nice to see something familiar to both of us while on our travels.

After that, I walked Bear again, fed him, and proceeded to the nearest family restroom to lock us in while I cleaned up.

I met Taylah for breakfast and coffee that morning at a place called Brass Horn Coffee Roasters right by downtown Murfreesboro. This was the first planned stop where I actually knew someone. It was cool for Bear to meet someone from my life in Clarksville, and vice versa. It was a neat little crossover of sorts.

They seemed to like each other pretty well with Bear even Pyrenees-pawing at Taylah when she stopped petting. He had not done that with anyone we had met so far, nor would he do that with anyone else we met later. Taylah was his favorite new person.

Bear was not allowed inside Brass Horn, and they were busy anyways, so we tied Bear to a light post outside while we joined the line. Bear laid down patiently while we waited. The people sitting by the window kept taking pictures of him and murmuring about how cute he was.

Taylah and I chatted for some time, lots about track and cross country, my road trip thus far, and lots of other little things.

It was important to me that I see Taylah if I stopped in Murfreesboro because she was, in a way, just as responsible for the inspiration of this journey as Steinbeck had been. Throughout the semester, she had been a good friend, and around the time the idea for this trip had entered my thoughts, she had reminded me to take a break for myself. It had been something that stayed in my mind, and still does. Most importantly, it was the final push for me to commit to this journey.

I can understand why Bear and Taylah liked each other. Bear is just a good boy all around, of course, spoiled as he may be.

As far as how Bear felt about Taylah, they say that dogs are a good judge of character, and I think this encounter only further proves that. Taylah has a good head on her shoulders, a good heart in her chest, and good taste in music, movies, and apparently coffee shops, too. There is little negative to say about her, and those things, like being gullible, bad at parking, and the fact that birds always poop on my car after she rides in it, are nothing related to her character. I attribute the lack of parking skills to Murfreesboro now, anyways. The people there cannot drive. They do not know what a turn signal, a zipper merge or the right-of-way is.

At this point in the trip, I began to notice a pattern of getting breakfast at coffee shops. First it had been Bear Grounds in Mayville, then 4 Corners Café in Ooltewah and now Brass Horn in Murfreesboro. This was interesting to me because Steinbeck and Charley often found themselves drinking coffee with strangers, and even a few friends they ran into by coincidence, over the course of their journey.

One of my favorite quotes from the book was about this. Steinbeck wrote, “The great get-together symbol is the cup of coffee. I found I often stopped for coffee not because I wanted it but for a rest and a change from the rolling highway.”

I think this quote to be rather accurate.

I think of the people I’ve had coffee with on this trip, and I know it is accurate.

I enjoy coffee as much as the next guy, but I don’t go to a coffee shop because I just want to consume that much caffeine. It makes me sleepy anyways, so it is often inconvenient. I visit coffee shops for the ambience and because they are, I feel, an accurate representation of what a town is like. Coffee shops host a wide variety of people, and you get to meet a little bit of everyone there.

This is especially true when you have a dog with you, especially one that is as well-behaved and reserved as Bear is in public. He has gotten lots of compliments on his behavior, especially for being as young as he is.

A lot has changed since Steinbeck wrote Travels With Charley, but it seems that dogs and coffee still bring people together. I do not think this will ever change, and though I am not necessarily the most religious man, I pray that it does not.

Aside from coffee shops, there has been a common theme of me visiting downtown in most of the cities I have traveled. Murfreesboro was no different.

Murfreesboro had a larger downtown than most I’d seen, save maybe Chattanooga. It was shaped like an outwardly expanding square, fittingly referred to by locals like Taylah as “The Square.” There was a lot of variety in shops and restaurants there, and if you didn’t have a dog, you could find pretty much anything you could think of.

For those with pups, there weren’t a ton of options. There were a few good places, though, and many of the restaurants did have outdoor seating and even the non-pet-friendly locations had bowls for water for any dogs that passed by.

The people on the sidewalks and street were all extremely friendly. It seemed like every time we saw someone, we stopped and talked about Bear and our trip. Everyone loved it, and everyone knew someone else that had a Great Pyrenees.

I remember one guy, a slightly odd fellow, maybe in his forties, came up and just hugged Bear without saying a word at first. He did talk to Bear and I after, but he was almost too friendly for Bear’s comfort. He did not mind children hugging him, but he was not sure about this from a grown man that he did not know. I can’t say that I blame Bear. I would’ve expressed much more discomfort than Bear did. Bear would have expressed much more discomfort had I acted with more judgement.

I did ask the man if he knew of any pet-friendly shops in the downtown area, and he mentioned a boutique that he couldn’t remember the name of, which I was never able to find, and Boro Bowls. Boro Bowls had also been suggested by Taylah, but she was not sure if they allowed dogs.

Thankfully, they did, and that was our lunch stop for the day. The employees there loved him, as did the customers, as was the case everywhere so far. I spent some time there working on this article while Bear waited somewhat impatiently and ignored the dragon fruit acai pup cup he had been given. We stayed there for a while before heading over to a vintage collectable store.

Drip Purple was an interesting place. I was mainly interested in going there to pass the time without driving, but I found it to be actually a neat little place. There were collectibles of all kinds, but what caught my eye initially was some old Lego Heroica sets, which unlocked a core memory. My brothers and I had gotten the same exact sets for Christmas one year. They were a Lego board game, though we never bothered learning how to play. I miss how Christmas was as a kid. It took so little to impress and to enlighten back then.

It was nice to reminisce.

While I was looking at the Legos, two women about my age came up to me.

“Where you at Brass Horn this morning?” one of them asked.

I told them I had been, and apparently, they had met me this morning and pet Bear. Everyone had started to blend in at this point, and I did not recall them specifically, but I told them that I did.

I stayed in Drip Purple for long enough that I felt bad not to buy anything, so I looked at the cheapest stuff that they had, stickers and patches. I found one that seemed perfectly fitting given the nature of my trip. It was a sticker featuring a stack of books with a cup of coffee sitting atop the stack. The great get-together symbol.

As I was looking back at the stickers, the two women approached me once more, this time holding a t-shirt. It was a spoof of The Godfather logo, this time reading “The Dogfather.”

“This made me think of you,” one of them told me.

How interesting it is for a stranger to think of another stranger like that. I always find it endearing when people I know send me something or tell me about something that reminds them of me, and every time, it throws me off slightly. The idea that I am perceived in absence is something I have never quite understood. Sure, I think of the people I care about when I hear a song they like or re-watch a movie they suggested to me, but to think that I myself exist beyond when I am in sight has always been profound to me. Here, with a stranger thinking of me in this collectibles shop, somehow felt the same way.

As I went to check out, the guy working there asked why I picked out that sticker. I explained to him about my trip and how Travels With Charley was the basis of it, and he told me just to take it. He refused to let me pay him, which made me feel even worse for not buying anything else, but also made me feel very gratuitous. I may be going on a week-long road trip, but I’m still a very broke college student. I started to just leave some cash in their tip jar, but he refused that as well.

“My name is Charley,” he informed me, “and someone was telling me about that book.”

Apparently, he had been considering a short trip with his own dog because of it, and he told me that he thought it was a sign when I shared of my journey.

With that, I thanked him and left him to be. How interesting it is to think that you can inspire someone the way others have inspired you.

Nothing else really happened that day. Bear and I headed back to Cracker Barrel to stay the night. Bear’s constantly being awake finally reached him, and he fell asleep around 6:00 P.M., while I stayed awake for some time, struggling to fall asleep.

Friday, December 20, 2024.

Murfreesboro and Waverly.

My last morning in Murfreesboro was on par with the beginning of my visit there. I woke up about 5:00 A.M., back on my normal early morning grind. I walked Bear around the Cracker Barrel and let him do his business. We sat on the rocking chair for a few minutes in what I can only imagine is a glimpse of what our life will be like forty years from now when I’m old and no longer working the goats myself.

I can see it now, myself rocking peacefully on the porch of the old milk barn that I’m restoring while Bear rests at my feet, a puddle of drool at his feet.

We headed back to the car so that I could start it to let it heat up and defrost to set course for Waverly. All was well and good. I put the key in the on position but did not start the truck. That was my mistake. Or happy accident if you’re in a Bob Ross kind of delusional euphoria.

That was all well and good, still, except for the part where I fell back asleep. A truck does not do well with the key idling in the on position for any real period of time. It sat like that for about an hour before I arose once more.

When I tried to crank it the rest of the way, the truck was deader than a doornail. At this point, I was absolutely kicking myself. It was completely my fault. I texted Taylah, knowing she was likely still asleep to see if she or anyone she knew could jump me off. No good. I was right. She was asleep.

At this point, Cracker Barrel was opening for the day, so I went inside on the lookout for any half-way approachable blue-collar looking man I could find that I thought might have booster cables and be willing to help. No one in the lobby and shopping area matched that description.

I had to venture into the dining area. So, I did. As my waitress led me to my seating, I saw my mark. I ordered myself a hot cocoa, told the waitress I needed a minute to figure out what I wanted and approached.

Thankfully, they agreed to boost me off once they finished eating. They were very kind to help me, and I appreciated it greatly. I paid for their tickets, ordered some biscuits and went outside. In just a few minutes, I was ready to hit the road. Bear was ready to hit the biscuits.

Our next stop was Waverly, Tennessee, home of my roommate and teammate Jack Fitzgerald.

There is a lot to be said of Jack Fitzgerald. I think it is entirely possible that he is the most important person that I have met from my time so far at Austin Peay. He was the only teammate that returned from my freshman to sophomore years, and my roommate both my sophomore and junior years so far. He likes to tell people that I am the best roommate that he has ever had, but that can only be true to the extent that is impossible for Jack to have himself as a roommate. He will tell you that I cook and clean, but neglects how much he has been there for me. He has seen me cry tears of sadness, and he has likewise brought me to tears of joy. I cannot speak of many people as highly as I can of Jack. He is very much a brother to me, and we are often mistaken for brothers here in Clarksville. There is no one else I would rather be mistaken as brothers with. Jack is family in every sense of the word.

Naturally, it was nice to see his hometown.

Despite Dunlap’s claims, Waverly was, in my opinion, the quintessential small town.

Here, I found comfort staying with Jack’s family, specifically his sister Frankie, brother-in-law Cory and nieces Lily and Sophie. I had met all of them before, and they were always quite welcoming. I always felt like part of the family around them despite not having really known them that well for that long. Frankie and Cory had even supplied the majority of the furniture in mine and Jack’s Clarksville apartment.

When Bear and I arrived, we were immediately met by the family, as well as their three dogs. Each dog had somewhat different responses. The first Bear encountered was Buck, an English setter-mix, who did not receive Bear quite as well as his owners to say the least. The next was Rosie, a French bulldog, who seemed indifferent to Bear but also spooked by his unfamiliar presence. Finally, was Zoey, an older Yorkshire terrier who ironically enough was the only one to get any real reaction from Bear. She ran up on him quickly and startled him to the point that he was running on the slick floor in a Scooby-Doo-esque manner as I held him. It was quite a sight to behold.

The company of other dogs was not something that I really considered with Jack’s family, but it was something I had given thought to in general for this trip. Bear is a livestock guardian dog by trade; thus, it is his sworn duty to defend his herd. When he is not with goats, I am his herd by default. Even when the goats are around, I take precedent with him. This is partially because I taught him to care for the goats as if they were an extension of myself, focusing on my bond with him then demonstrating my compassion for the goats afterward.

In any case, Bear is never certain of other animals, especially dogs because they are seen as a threat to his herd. The poodle in Murfreesboro was a rare exception to this rule. Every rule does have its exceptions, however rare they may be.

Still, despite the conflict of interest between the dogs, Jack’s family was extremely accommodating for both Bear and myself. They did not complain as many would, and they were amazing hosts. Frankie made sausage balls (and taught me a few tricks to perfect a sausage ball recipe) and baked sugar cookies, too. Both of these were delicious, and it was, as always, nice to enjoy some home-cooked food that I did not have to make myself.

They also insisted I sleep inside and had already prepared a guest room for Bear and I to sleep in. During the day, they allowed Bear full reign of the screened-in porch, as well as access inside as I pleased him to be. I let him hang out on the porch for much of the day for both of us to relax in a lazy daze.

Coincidentally, I noted that Charley was away from Steinbeck during much of the later half of his travels. Waverly marked a similar pattern for Bear and I, though we still spent lots of time together here.

Later that afternoon, Jack, Bear and I rode to downtown Waverly.

Jack had emphasized that there was very little to do in Waverly. This much was true, but I found the town to be charming. It was a nice rest from my previous visits, a necessary change of pace following Murfreesboro.

The three of us did visit a few places, though. These included the Waverly Café, which was not pet-friendly, but had outdoor seating. We sat there, and as people passed by, we were greeted by people who were attracted to Bear or that knew Jack. We ate lunch there, then checked out a boutique called Made. Here, we met Jack’s grandmother, who was every bit as welcoming and friendly as everyone else I had met in Jack’s family. I do not think any of them have ever met a stranger.

We also visited an antique store in Waverly, a place called Vintage Treasures. We were unsure if Bear was allowed in, but the man working there allowed him.

He told us, “The more he breaks, the more you buy.”

If I ever opened an antique store, I think I will adopt a similar position on pet-friendliness.

After browsing for a few minutes, we returned to Frankie and Cory’s house.

At this point in the day, it was getting late. It would be night soon, and Bear and I had yet to run. I had a long run scheduled for the day, so we had to get going. We had procrastinated long enough.

This run ended up being Bear’s most impressive run to date. He joined for a total of 14.52 miles at 7:34/mile pace. I found that Bear enjoyed the less busy area for running, and I think because of the layout of the roads we ran, he was far more comfortable and relaxed. They were not unlike the roads back home in New Market, which he had not run often, but that had been the only running he knew before our trip.

These roads made me feel more at home, too. Waverly only further cemented itself as prime small-town America for me here. The houses were very nice but not overly extravagant. They were a simple kind of beautiful. They were close in proximity, but not plopped right on top of each other. They were backroads, but not consumed with boring subdivisions or trailer parks. There were still wooded areas that were left as they should traditionally stand without the brazen intervention of man. There was a kind of simplicity here that felt homey, even for strangers in the land such Bear and myself.

Beyond the comfort of the rural town, Bear was a champion runner when it came to hills. The steeper, the better. The rolling hills and dead ends that we discovered were his version of Heaven. At times, he was even putting me to shame on the hills, which is saying something because I am used to running on mountain trails and steep roads like these. Bear has no such conditioning.

What motivated Bear even further were the countless herds of deer. I do not think that I have seen so many deer in such a short timeframe as I had in Waverly. Bear loved it. Bear also wanted to chase them all.

Throughout the run, I gave Bear multiple chances to wait with my truck, as he had never gone for this long of a run before, and I did not think he would want to. I am not sure if it was excitement of the area or his eagerness to please, but Bear did not take these chances. He remained with me the entire time.

Interestingly enough, I also observed that Bear followed the sidewalk rule very precisely. He would not let me run on the inside, though I tried to make him let me. I did not want to risk him getting hit, and he did not want to risk me getting hit. We ran at a stalemate, but I fear that Bear was more stubborn than I, so he ran the majority of the run on the inside to his liking.

By the time we finished, I expected Bear would be exhausted, as he usually crashes post-run. We planned on this and left him on their screened-in porch.

That night, Lily and Sophie were cheering at Waverly High School’s boys’ and girls’ basketball game, so the whole lot of us came to watch the game. If there is anything else that heightened my perception of Waverly as small town, U.S.A., it was this game.

Waverly’s basketball teams were not that great, I must admit. However, high school athletics remains the epitome of small-town America. The crowd remained largely attentive and cheered at every point where it was applicable. The skill of the home team did not matter. All that mattered was the support of the crowd, however small it may have been.

The basketball games were the first time on the trip where I had left Bear for any real amount of time, and though my thoughts drifted to him on occasion, I found that I sort of enjoyed not having him there to draw attention to me. There is something to be said of ambiguity in an unfamiliar setting.

Instead, the attention came to Jack, who seemed to know everyone and their mothers. It reminded me of back home even more, as everyone in New Market knows everyone. I was the outsider here, though I appreciate that no one ever made me feel that way. This was always a perk in a small town. There was Southern hospitality.

On a side note, I also discovered that the errors of the public school system extend everywhere, not just by the city or the region. The concerns here, the declining behavior of children and the overbearingness of parents in the classroom, were just as prevalent. Some things, it appears, are universal.

After meeting lots of people from Jack’s home, the basketball games came to an end. We came home, and my fluffy companion was waiting for me outside, laying calmly beside my truck. We found later that he used his mouth to twist the handle and free himself. He could not do this after we locked it.

I am very thankful that Bear is a smart dog. He may have escaped the closed-off porch, but he saw no point in leaving the property. I attribute this partially to the welcoming nature of our stay and partially to the familiarity of the truck. He has been in the truck a number of times, so when he broke out, it only made sense for that to be the place he made himself comfortable.

After a dinner of pizza from a local place called Luigi’s, Bear would make himself comfortable in the guest bedroom.

While Bear is a very smart and well-mannered thing, he had never been allowed indoors beyond those at Tractor Supply. I was not sure how he would do as an inside dog for the night, but I found myself pleasantly surprised. He had tried to sleep on the bed with me but was very unsure of it. As it was not solid, it sunk when he put his paws on it, and this made him noticeably uncomfortable. He tried it out, though, if nothing else to be directly at my side. I drifted off to sleep, and his sleeping in the bed must not have lasted long. When I awoke a short while after going to bed, I found him lying at the door, keeping guard. He has always been and will always be a working dog.

Saturday, December 21, 2024.

Waverly, McKenzie, Paris and Clarksville.

Bear and I both slept in the next morning. This was our first night in a real bed since we had begun our journey, and I was almost overwhelmed by how much more comfortable it had been than the truck. Bear, of course, did not care for the bed, but I like to think he enjoyed the softness of the carpeted guest bedroom floor. It does not take much to be more comfortable than the front seat of a truck.

We both slept like babies. My dad has always said that anyone can fall asleep with ease if they’ve had a hard day’s work and a clear conscience. This is simply untrue. All you really need is to spend a couple of nights sleeping in a fully-packed truck with a Great Pyrenees.

When we finally crawled out from our hole for the morning, we found that we were still some of the first in the house to awaken. Our sleeping in is still a normal person’s waking up early. I took Bear outside before retiring him back to the bedroom.

Cory had fixed a pot of coffee, and the two of us drank the great get-together symbol while Bear remained downstairs. We exchanged stories of Jack sleeping in and waking up late, only to discover that Jack heard about half of them. We did not mind. If anything, it was even more humorous now as Jack joined the conversation to defend himself.

Slowly, one-by-one, Frankie, Lily and Sophie joined us. By now, we all shared the great get-together symbol.

It was a lazy morning in Waverly, and we spent much of the day away delighting in conversations about our favorite gifts received and our favorite gifts given. We told embarrassing stories about one another, and we shared many interesting advent anecdotes from Christmases past and about how they, too, used to have goats.

Once again, I felt like part of the family. I originally planned on leaving much earlier in the morning to continue my travels with Bear, but I found myself enjoying the conversations too much and quickly lost track of time. It still did not matter; I had no timelines to meet.

I did eventually leave sometime shortly before lunchtime to head to my next planned stop, Paris.

We ended up detouring to McKenzie at the last minute by Cory’s suggestion. I could not remember where Cory had said to visit in McKenzie, but I figured that Bear and I could find somewhere worth visiting.

We ended up in an antique mall in McKenzie, a huge, fascinating antique mall. Before us entered a large black dog, the breed of which I was unable to ascertain. As Bear and I entered, we were greeted by a kind woman with a treat who apparently had seen us coming from the far side of the parking lot. I imagine it is not easy to miss a large white dog such as the Great Pyrenees before them.

The woman attempted to give the treat to Bear, who sniffed the treat and did nothing but look at her. Bear will not eat from anyone other than me. This I knew. The woman handed me the treat and I held it to Bear, who gently took it from my hand before eating it in less than two bites.

Bear is a gentle giant and wary of food from strangers. He has been far better about obeying the classic “Stranger, danger!” rule than I have been on this trip.

We did not encounter the black dog that entered before us, but we did encounter lots of different people. None of the conversations I had there really stuck out to me as important. It seemed to be lots of the same small talk and conversations I’d had all along the trip. Compliments to Bear, tales of my journey, tales of other people who knew other Pyrenees, but that was really it. Nothing too thoughtful or worth looking back upon. We had reached a point in the trip where things felt repetitive, and after leaving the welcoming home of Jack’s family, the journey now felt more lonesome.

To quote Steinbeck’s novel, “When that time was over and the good-bys said, I had to go through the same loneliness all over again… There seemed to be no cure for loneliness save only being alone.”

The loneliness did not negate our journey, though. A good dog at your side is often comparable, if not always better than the company of many others. It allows for careful contemplation and complete understanding of that which is you and of that which surrounds you. You can be alone in your thoughts without being fully alone.

Our surroundings here included some pretty cool antiques, including some old suitcases, metal signs, and an art piece of a dog that somewhat resembled Bear done in mosaic form. I ended up buying an old, cover-less magazine titled “The Dog News”. It was from 1948 and featured all kinds of ads, updates, and champions from dogs of most major and recognizable breeds, including the Great Pyrenees. It was less than two dollars, so it made for an excellent, cheap keepsake of the trip.

After the detour in McKenzie, I filled up the truck’s gas tank and picked up where I’d left off on my drive to Paris.

I chose Paris as a stop on our trip almost symbolically. Back in August, the APSU cross country team had taken a weeklong preseason team camp at Paris Landing. It had been a rather enjoyable time, with almost everyone on the team accounted for. It was the first time that everyone on the men’s team ran together, and one of the only times all season that happened due to various injuries and training changes throughout the season.

It had been a strong way to begin the season, so it felt poetic for Bear and I to visit here at the end of the season in a state of reflection. We did not go to Paris Landing, but we did visit Eifel Tower Park. The team had done this back in August as well, even doing an early season workout at the park.

This and Little Debbie Park were the only two touristy locations on our trip. We were intentional about that. We did not want a fake experience of Tennessee; We wanted to see the cities we visited for what they were in their daily lives, just as we had found in coffee shops, downtown strips and random parking lots.

There was hardly anyone there, and I quickly realized that what made my previous visit here so great was the people I was with. Bear was great as always, but there was nothing to be done here for just the two of us.

That, and the only family that was there at the same time had a lot of little kids. Kids who loved Bear and kept sneaking away from their parents to pet him. We were inadvertently causing trouble, so we called the visit early and departed for our coffee shop for the day.

We stopped just down the road from Eifel Tower Park at a place called Sweet Jordan’s. They were a coffee shop, bakery and ice cream shop all rolled into one. Despite the cold, ice cream sounded really good, so I ordered some sort of maple ice cream with chocolate drizzle. I also got coffee because it had become habit to do so and potato soup because I hadn’t eaten lunch yet. Bear got a pup cup that lasted about half a second.

We did not stay there long either because it was bitter cold and Bear could not come in, so I saw no need for us to remain. On the way back to the truck, I noticed Bear limping on his front left leg. Upon further inspection, he had a blister. It was most likely, I assume, from our long run in Waverly, which had been entirely on hard surface.

It was official: I had over-trained my first athlete. I loaded Bear up and we left for Clarksville so that I could run on the track at Fortera Stadium.

We stopped at a teammate’s house on the way there, but no one was home. Bear claimed it as his own, nonetheless.

When I finally started my run, Bear tried to go with me. He tried this for about twenty minutes, and I did not slow down, hoping he would just quit on his own. His paw was hurting too much for him to run, though, and he eventually gave up and rested beside the fence. I did not tie him because I wanted him to be free to roam and the gates were all closed, so there would be no harm or concern.

The rest of the evening was pretty calm. Bear and I retired to mine and Jack’s apartment in Clarksville. I do not think Bear liked our apartment. Part of me wonders if he could smell that I was here often. If that were the case, I wondered also if he knew that’s where I stayed when I was away for extended periods of time for school.

I always feel bad being away from Bear, and I do not know what goes through his mind when I disappear for months at a time each semester. He never acted ill towards me about being gone, but I assumed he must feel some type of way about because even the goats act differently when I return after a prolonged absence.

Scampers and Nanny, two out of three of my original herd, act especially different. Scampers has grown very independent except when I return. Then she will not leave my side for anything. Nanny is the opposite. She is normally glued to my hip but gives me the cold shoulder for a while when I return.

Bear, on the other hand, never changes how he acts with me, but one must give thought to what goes through his mind.

Now he lays at the foot of my bed in the apartment that represents my separation from him for half of the year, still unwavering in his loyalty, love and protection of me. We do not deserve dogs. They are too good to us.

Sunday, December 22, 2024.

Clarksville and Greenbrier.

In Steinbeck and Charley’s trip, they stopped in one place that was familiar to the duo. This stop was Chicago, which Steinbeck described as “a break in my journey, a resumption of my name, identity, and happy marital status.”

What Chicago was to Steinbeck, Clarksville was to me. No one that I was close with was still in Clarksville, but it remained the only familiar stop on my trip up to this point. It is quite literally my home away from home, and in many ways, it is a big piece of my identity.

As my encounters with Taylah and Jack had felt like crossovers, my stop in Clarksville felt like a continuation of that crossover. Bear being here seemed to represent my home in New Market joining together with my home in Clarksville. Just as Bear toes the line between pet and working dog, this crossover toes the line between my homes.

I like to think that our lives are constantly-evolving mosaics. We are nothing more than the combination of all that has impacted us. We are mosaics of everyone we have ever loved and everyone we have ever encountered. Now, these pieces of my mosaic were melting together.

As I sat there on that Sunday morning, with Bear at my feet, I found myself acknowledging just how prevalent my mosaic was in my apartment. On our TV stand sits all of our board games, my record player and records and our mail.

There is the deck of Uno cards that is my family’s deck, the one I bought when those were lost, and the knowledge that both of them are now mixed together because of a game night with my teammates last year.

I have the deck of playing cards that I bought in high school at the Walgreens back home when I stayed at a friend’s house and we couldn’t find their cards.

I have the random goat-themed card game one of my repeat Bales Goats customers gave me last Christmas.

I have vinyl records of Noah Kahan, Zach Bryan, Bon Iver, Benson Boone, Bob Marley and Childish Gambino. Each and every one of those artists and albums are tied to specific people that put me on or specific memories from when I discovered them myself.

There are the random bills and coupons Jack and I have amassed over the course of the semester.

The table runner on our coffee table in the living room uses an afghan that my grandmother made me as a kid.

The furniture around me was given to us by Frankie and Cory.

There is a candle on the side table that I bought with another one of my teammates, Sydney Freeman, two years ago.

Everything around us, even the most mundane details, come from somewhere else. Our homes are a perfect example of the lives that have touched us and molded us into who we are today.

I found myself feeling very appreciative that morning. This set the tone for my visit in Clarksville. How amazing it is to have such a beautiful, familiar mosaic.

With this renewed appreciation, Bear and I set out to get coffee. We did not stop at a traditional coffee shop. Instead, it was a drive-up food truck called Atlas Coffee and Co. I had driven passed Atlas before on the way back to campus after a long run at Fort Campbell, but I had never actually stopped there yet.

Bear and I parked and walked up to the window instead of driving, which was probably a funny sight to see with us in line between two cars in the drive-through.

The coffee was good, and I found that this place was very pet-friendly. They gave Bear a huge bone-shaped treat. As expected, Bear made short work of the treat. We sat outside at a picnic table in the parking lot while I ate my breakfast. I had originally planned on scraping by for my own breakfast this morning, but I was still hungry after making a cheese quesadilla, and I did not have much of anything else at the apartment. I also thought Bear would prefer riding and going somewhere. I was right.

At this point, it was still pretty early in the day, and after the song “Good Ol’ Dogs and God” by Pryor & Lee came on in the truck, I felt particularly encouraged to go to church. If nothing else, it seemed appropriate with it being the Sunday before Christmas. As I suspected, Bear could not come inside with me since he was not a service dog, so I found myself leaving him in the truck again.

The message that morning was derived from the idea of Jesus as the prince of peace, but there was one specific quote that I recalled the pastor saying.

“Learning to be grateful for these little thing pulls us closer to peace,” he had said.

I think that this was true enough spiritually, but also in a more worldly perspective. I have found that though many things have not gone according to plan on this journey, I have remained very grateful for the experiences I’ve had and the overall break with Bear. This trip has brought me much peace, and while I believe God has played a role in that, I know that Bear has been the short-term difference maker for me.

Had I gone on this trip alone, I would be far from at peace, but Bear has kept me quite grounded and in touch with the best parts of our experiences on the road. I cannot be grateful enough for Bear. I am so very blessed.

I did, however, feel bad about leaving Bear in the truck for another hour or so while I attended church. As always, he was fine when I returned to the truck.

The rest of the day in Clarksville was fairly planned out. While I had not planned many specifics of the trip, I had checked in all of my favorite downtown shops to confirm that they were pet-friendly just after Thanksgiving break.

I had told the employees working there about the trip I had planned, and many of the shop owners had expressed excitement in meeting Bear while we were in for the day.

Now, the day had arrived. Bear and I visited the Clarksville Collection, AndVinyl Records, Hudubam Booktraders and Pups Plants. These were all of my normal shops to check out, so it was special for me to be able to share them with Bear.

Coincidentally, the same employees were working at the Clarksville Collection and Hudubam now as they were when I had checked about them being pet-friendly. I did not recognize the employees at AndVinyl or Pups.

The Clarksville Collection didn’t normally have much that I really needed, but the lady that works there is always extremely kind. When Bear and I came in, she immediately remembered me, hooked me up with some fresh apple cider and got Bear a treat. We talked about our adventures so far, and I wanted to buy something as a keepsake, but did not see anything until we went to leave. Then my eyes caught a tea towel with a big realistic Nubian goat design on it. Of course I bought it.

Hudubam Booktraders was especially relevant for Bear and I to visit. This journey being inspired by a book made it only fitting, if not poetic even, to stop at a bookstore. I noticed the same version of Travels With Charley that I have was sitting on the shelf. Bear got another treat, and I bought a book called Small Things Like These that a friend of mine had recommended to me a while back.

We didn’t stay in downtown for too long. We were hungry, and the most fitting place in Clarksville for my livestock guardian dog and I had to be Thirsty Goat.

We got a cheese pizza there, and Bear got lots of petting and attention. He also ate around half of my pizza because he kept watching me eat, and he knows I’m a sucker for feeding him when he begs. Spoiled son of a bitch.

The only other thing we did of significance in Clarksville was visiting the Christmas lights on Riverside. In all three years of going to APSU, I had yet to make the trip down there aside from morning runs. They were nice, and Bear enjoyed them when I could get him to walk and stop focusing on marking his territory. There were lots of dogs there, so I was holding Bear over to the edge of the sidewalk. As per usual, he did not seem to care for them.

The exception to this was a female rough collie that we encountered. She and Bear were wagging their tails flirting and smiling until we let them get a little closer to each other. Then Bear went into livestock guardian mode and was not friendly at all. Bear needs to get better at not sending mixed signals if he ever wants to find himself a girlfriend.

I had to hold him up by his collar while he stood on his back legs and growled.

“He’s a very good looking dog,” the rough collie’s owners told me.

“She is, too,” I said, still restraining Bear, “she looks like Lassie.”

Aside from other dogs, Bear encountered lots of little kids that wanted to hug and love on him. I let them do so while Bear looked at me begging for me to save him from their joyous clutches.

Once we finished the Christmas lights, it was time for Bear and I to move on to Greenbrier, Tennessee.

Driving in Clarksville reminded me that Murfreesboro was not the only city where no one knows how to drive. You could tell when you’d left the city limits because people drove with some sense for a moment. The roads were awful once we got close to our destination, but the other drivers improved noticably.

Greenbrier was the hometown of my freshman teammate Will Keefer. Where Jack is like an older brother to me, I think of Will as a younger brother. He reminds me a lot of one of the high school cross country runners back home in Jefferson County, a guy named Bryce Annis who I have gone on countless runs with during the summers. In Will’s case, I have gone on countless runs with him during this semester when we have on-your-own runs or doubles. Will and Bryce are both young bucks with a lot of potential as both people and athletes. Will had been recruited on a gamble of his abilities, something that has now been well-proven. While both of them are young, they are good kids. If they stay half as good as they are now, they will go very far in life.

I have met Will’s parents and his twin sister already, so it was nice to stay with another family that I was already partially familiar with. They were all very welcoming, though I mainly only saw Will and his mother that first night. They also did not have other dogs, which made arrangements with Bear feel less intrusive.

That being said, they were ready to spoil Bear for the short time we were in Greenbrier. His mom fixed three hamburgers’ worth of beef and fed it to him that night, and Bear even went outside to lick up the grease she poured out after pretending he needed to use the bathroom. At this point, I was questioning if Bear would ever want to work goats again after living like this for a week.

As far as my dinner, Will and I joined a friend of his at a little Japanese restaurant while Bear remained at Will’s house in the truck. They had huge servings, and I, having an appetite rivaled only by Bear, finished the plate just as quickly as I finish every plate. My teammates, especially Will, Jack and Taylah, always give me a hard time about how quickly I eat. I think they all eat too slowly, personally.

After that, Will and I drove to see the Springfield drive-through Christmas lights. They reminded me of the drive-through Christmas lights that get set up at Smokies Stadium in Sevierville every year.

I felt a little bad leaving Bear by his lonesome so much on the second half of the trip, but he did not mind. He just slept in the truck while he waited on my return. Thankfully for both of us, though, we did not have to sleep in the truck for the third night in a row.

Bear did very well inside here as well, although I could not get him to sleep in the living room where I was. They have a mostly open floor-plan, and Bear was determined to sleep in the middle of the kitchen. This only concerned me because he was initially staring at the pan the hamburger meat had been in, and I was not sure if Bear would try to see if there was any grease or bits of meat that had been missed.

After fighting a losing battle for some time, I decided to clip Bear’s leash to my belt loop. It worked great for all of five minutes until he decided to walk all the way around the coffee table and almost cleared the entire table.

When I gave up and just let Bear guard from where he preferred, all was well.

Monday, December 23, 2024.

Greenbrier, Springfield and Johnson City.

When I woke up for the morning, Bear was still standing guard in the middle of the kitchen. Will and I were going to run shortly, and I had hoped Bear could join us, but Bear’s blister was not quite healed enough for me to take him, so he was refined to the truck once more. As I took him on his morning walk and put him back in the truck, I discovered that Will’s sister ran over Bear’s water bowl. I found this to be pretty funny; It was extremely cheap plastic and I had only bought it for the trip, so I did not care, but Will and I had plotted to make her feel bad once she woke up.

Will had told me that there was not much of anything to do or anywhere to really run in Greenbrier, just as Jack had told me in Waverly. I was not able to get a good read on Greenbrier when I arrived the previous night, so I couldn’t judge how small of a town I was in. In the morning, however, I did confirm that it was pretty small. I thought it was a lot like Waverly, except perhaps more backwoods, but that may have been different depending on which part of each town I stayed in.

Also like Waverly, I found that the running there was not as bad as it was made out to be. There were sidewalks on the main roads, which I suppose is a low bar, but New Market does not have any sidewalks, so the bar remains. The neighborhoods were also decent to run through, but I can see how they would get boring running them every day. When anything gets repeated too often, it loses its value.

Since there was little to do in Greenbrier, Will and I took Bear to downtown Springfield for breakfast. We got coffee and a Canadian breakfast sandwich, part of which Bear obviously got a bite of, at a place called Historic Perk. The logos and designs in the café reminded me of Central Perk from Friends, which I think was the point.

An older gentleman came up to us while we were there, asking about Bear. He told us all about his neighbor’s Great Pyrenees from when he was a kid. Apparently, he used to feed it every day when their owners were at work, so they stayed at his house until their owners got home every day. I thought that sounded about right as Bear, too, is, as you should know by now, very food-motivated.

The man went on to tell us how loyal and great at guarding livestock the breed is, and I told him how Bear normally works goats when he’s not on paid vacation like he was this week. He talked and talked about this one big goat that would always meet him on his paper route delivering newspapers and how this goat would always climb on the hood of a car when he was throwing the paper.

I told him all about my first buck, Gizmo, who used to hop on the hood of my dad’s other truck. Gizmo had been a handful before I sold him. He was big boy and a good goat, though. I still have two of his offspring in the Bales Goats herd.

After Will and I ate, we discovered that almost all of the downtown shops in Springfield were closed on Mondays, which we found rather odd and inconvenient, though thankfully not to the level of inconvenience I had approached on my introduction to Murfreesboro. There was only one to go into, and that was an antique store. It was a neat place to visit, but not anything super unique happened there.

At this point, my tour guide had to go to work, so we parted ways as I worked to determine my final stop for the road trip. I initially thought that Greenbrier would be my final stop, but I was departing now much earlier, and no one was expecting me home until sometime on Christmas Eve.

So, I set out to Johnson City, where my teammate and Jack’s girlfriend Ashley Doyle lives.

I drove straight through, except for a brief intermission at the Crossville Buccee’s, where Bear and I used the bathroom and shared an overpriced, but delicious, brisket sandwich.

The drive was long, but I drove with no hurry. I cruised around the speed limit, Bear riding shotgun.

In Steinbeck’s journey, he observed a fair point when driving in a similar fashion. He said, “that’s the only way to see anything.”

This, like many of the other points he made in his travels, stands true today. As I drove, I made note of the views. They were mostly mountains, especially in East Tennessee. When I got to this area, I was quickly comforted by the familiarity I had only gotten glimpses of so far on my journey. I saw license plates from many counties I had already visited, but also the license plates of counties where I had taken the goats. I recognized the county lines and city names. I passed the exit that I would have taken to go home to New Market had I ended my trip prematurely. Exit 394 drew my attention, but I ignored its call.

I was not ready for my trip, my break, to be over just yet.

As I drove, I eventually got passed the counties I had worked in, and at this point, I had only been this way once in recent memory.

I’d been heading to Johnson City then, too. I’d had a Great Pyrenees at my side then, too. That dog’s name was Oso, and I had taken him in a rescue situation this summer, hoping to acclimate him to being a partner for Bear. It seemed meant to be once I knew he was named Oso, which is Spanish for Bear, but it did not work out.

Now, I was riding back to Johnson City with the Great Pyrenees that had worked out. There was something poetic about it, or perhaps I have gotten too deep in thought over the course of my journey. Or maybe the driving has made me delirious. It does not matter regardless.

I got to Ashley’s house before she was home from work, but her family, some of whom I’d met previously, welcomed me in with open arms. Her brother Austin had a dog, too. He was a mutt named Howard that they believed to have some Weimaraner in it somewhere, but they didn’t know much else about him. He was a little over a year old and came from the shelter, so he didn’t do well with other dogs. Bear, of course, does not either, so they remained separated for my stay in Johnson City.

While I waited on Ashley to get home, I killed time playing pool with a kid named Jacob, who quickly befriended Bear. The difference between how Bear and Howard acted was stark, but Howard was not a bad dog. He was still a lot younger and more puppyish than Bear, and I can recall the trouble that Bear had been at the age, too. Eventually, we started playing pool. Jacob was not very good, and I was out of practice, but it was fun. I told Bear that we needed to run the table on Jacob, but Bear simply sat there watching us intently.

While we were playing pool, Ashley arrived. The two of us went on a short run on a downtown loop she had, while Bear stayed in the basement because he still needed to let his blister finish healing.

We got 7Brew on the way back and were met with a nice, full homecooked meal when we were back home. I ate chicken tenders, hash brown casserole, ham, and dinner rolls, with a piece of homemade fudge for dessert. I’d quite enjoyed the sausage balls and sugar cookies at Frankie and Cory’s, but they had not cooked a full-blown meal. This had been the perfect meal for the last night of my trip.

By the time dinner was over, we sat upstairs and played with Howard and socialized for a little while before coming downstairs. There, I saw that Bear messed up his streak of being a perfect inside dog. Beside the basement door, they had lots of inside plants, and I’m guessing Bear did not realize the difference between inside and outside plants.

A bathroom is a bathroom no matter what’s around, I suppose. Anyways, he had to pee on the one plant that drooped over its pot, and that meant there was a nice, yellow puddle in the floor surrounding the pot. It was not hard to clean, thankfully, and after the mess was resolved, Bear and I tucked away for the night.

Tuesday, December 24, 2024.

Johnson City and New Market.

By the time Christmas Eve got here, I was ready for it. I slept in for a bit the final day as well, so I ended up deciding to take the day off from running to make things easier. Before I left, I went with Ashley to get one final fill of the great get-together symbol and a pup cup to conclude my journey at a place called Open Doors Coffeehouse.

The way home felt like a Christmas movie where the family has one member racing against the clock to get there in time for the festivities. For me, I had been told that all of our Christmas Eve plans were going to take place over dinner and after dinner, but my brother called me after we left Open Doors and hit me with the news that we were doing presents at 10:00 A.M. This call was around 8:30 A.M.

It was kind of nice, though, and by now I was almost ready to get back home, though the journey had been excellent to Bear and I both.

I did not take notice of the views on the way home, I focused more on beating the clock and on petting Bear occasionally as I drove. He had begun to look weary the last day of the trip, and I could tell he yearned to be back with his herd. He is a working dog, after all. To be away from his work is only fun for a time.

I, too, was excited to be home for the holidays.

However, once I got on the recognizable New Market backroads, I was reflecting heavily on my trip. While I was now in familiar territory, something felt off. When one makes a home on the road, it is hard to say he is home once he leaves the road. When I got back, I noticed that I had made myself familiar with everywhere I had been, and so the strangeness and unfamiliarity no longer existed anywhere.

A man that is able to make a home anywhere must, for a fleeting second, question if anywhere truly is home. What defines a home?

It may be a cliché, but I have found that home truly is where the heart is. Home is in every piece of your mosaic, sprinkled across cities you may never even see because someone there has meant the world to you. By the end of this journey, my home and mosaic have sprinkled themselves all across Tennessee. They are in Maryville, Chattanooga, Ooltewah, Collegdale, Dunlap, McMinnville, Murfreesboro, Waverly, McKenzie, Paris, Clarksville, Greenbrier, Springfield, Johnson City and in my original home of New Market.

And that is how the traveler came home again.