Anything to Declare?

Our stops for pee and water went fairly well. It is difficult when you travel with 3 brand new dogs, that you know not much about and have to stop in some barren snow covered area and try to open the truck, get them haltered and out. For the most part Dixie and Grace seemed happy to get out, pee and demand back inside right away. Annie however made a few bolts for freedom. During these episodes, I got to see her panic response. She would run and as soon as you gave chase, she would simply freeze on the spot, and hunker to the ground. Trying to lift her was problematic, as she would also go dead-weight.

The SUV had a cage screen between the front seats and the back seating area. I began after each pee break to rotate them one by one to the front passenger seat, where I could talk to and pet them. Grace and Annie were always happy to go to the back seating area at the next stop. Dixie however settled in and decided that her rightful place WAS the front passenger seat. Having transported dogs, who I suddenly found were prone to car sickness, I had equipped myself with paper towel, spot lifter and plastic bags and had one incident on the road home.

We made out way across the cascade mountain ranges and the cold and snow and suddenly as we came through cascade fall sin Washington state, the sun broke out, the snow disappeared and the sight of green grass and clear skies was welcomed. I now had to go to opening windows for air. The girls this time when they got to have a pee break were more inclined to take their sweet time. The weather and the feel of fresh cut grass between their paws was much more appealing than the feel of ice and snow. And we found ourselves hitting the outskirts of Seattle on a Friday afternoon just as rush hour traffic was beginning to congest out of the city, stopping for our final pee in America at Bellingham and making our way to the Canada/USA border station. As usual for a Friday evening, by the time we got to the Sumas-Huntington crossing, the line-ups had started and the girls were restless, pacing and whining as they tend to be inpatient with the stopping motion of the vehicle.

It was my luck, as usual to have the border guard who seemed to be taking a very long time to process people, as we watched the lines to the left and the right proceed through at a much quicker pace. I tend to always stay in the line I have chosen, as I have changed before and found myself being questioned about why I had chosen the particular lane I moved to. It was with a heavy degree of suspicion in the tone to the question, and I found myself being sent inside. I felt it was more to prove to me that line hopping would do noting to speed up my crossing. I do honestly sometimes cross the border and purchase nothing I am coming back with, but this seems to send off some alarm bell. I have always been truthful at the border, even declaring excess, and fully prepared to pay the taxes and duties. I always have believe that it is better to do that, than to not do it and have always found the response quite positive from the border guards. So I rolled up eventually to the window, with all of my paperwork in hand. The man in the booth, seemed very official, asking me all the usual questions. I passed the paperwork for the dogs and he asked why I was bringing dogs into Canada. A brief discussion ensued about rescue dogs and bassets in particular. He took out a long yellow card and began to write on it. Apparently the total fees I had paid for the adoption, were in excess of my allowable purchases for being out of the country less than 48 hours. My only "goods to declare" were the dogs. He glanced back at me, and then said, well they give me a degree of discretion, so I will allow you to go this time, and then tore up the card, dropping it into a trash bin and said "go!". As I drove up the highway, it felt good to be back home, and I told the girls they were now officially Canadian. Night had fallen and we made the 25 kilometer trip in good time, arriving home to the greeting party of Byron and Molly.