[This is a perk for paid subscribers because I could not take this trip without them]
I am now in a very small town called Beaver, Utah. I feel lucky that my dog Luna is here with me. Somewhere in Colorado, she watched the Sunset.
But it was earlier, in Lincoln, Nebraska, at my favorite hotel, the Annabell Gardens, that I almost lost her. I always stay there on my cross-country drives because they offer a full kitchen, washer, and dryer. Doing laundry is always a blessing on the road, and to have it right in the room is a luxury.
I did, however, slice open my palm when I stayed there last year after a glass dish broke, and I ended up in the ER with stitches. That might have been a harbinger of something even more tragic that could have unfolded.
I adopted Luna several years ago as a companion to my dog Jack. My daughter and I had gone to the city’s Pound to find a dog. The incessant barking made it hard to even walk around—so many dogs in need of good homes is heartbreaking. Every dog we wanted was either taken or would be up for auction. We almost left, but then, a very kind volunteer stopped us and introduced us to a scared little dog who had been there for two weeks.
