John Steinbeck’s French poodle Charley is the star of Travels with Charley. The dog must have been remarkable because he steals the show in every scene he’s in. Steinbeck wrote about him with great grace, affection, and humor.
Billings, Montana — The question I am most often asked as I retrace Steinbeck’s 1960 journey is, “So do you have a dog?” Keep in mind that I am traveling the country to try to assess the national mood as we approach our 250th birthday. I’m wondering if we are still one country or two or more. I’m asking people what they think of the present national and international crisis of democracy. I’m asking them if we still can agree on a consensus national narrative. I’m asking what the industrial world should do about global climate change. I’m asking the people I meet if they think the republic will survive.
And all they want to know is whether I have a poodle and if not, why not.
I tell them I travel so much I can’t even keep a Chia Pet alive. Few laugh and some don’t even smile.
I can tell you that before I left on Phase One of my great journey, three of my friends offered to lend me their dogs for all or part of the trip. One of the dogs would be absolutely ideal — it has the perfect temperament, size, and look — but I declined for two reasons: first, I did not want to be responsible for someone’s beloved pet, lest it bolt across the LA freeway when I opened the door; second, it felt a little as if I would be ordering up a companion dog from central casting.
Three people have given me stuffed dogs to keep me company, one of them provided by one of my dearest friends. Also, someone sent me a poodle decal to adhere to the side of my Airstream. No bark, no bite, no feeding, no poop scoop.
I’ve been racking my brain for a solution to my problem. At the Christian dinosaur museum in Glendive, Montana, the other day, I bought a stuffed Triceratops, thinking it might become the Charley of my journey (Terry the Triceratops? Trigger? Trump?) or perhaps like the soccer ball in Tom Hanks’ Castaway, it would become my Wilson. But last night I woke up to find it goring my back with its three horns and gnawing away at my calf. So that was the end of that. Never anthropomorphize some inanimate object unless you want to deal with its in it animated state.
I acknowledge that some sort of karma or cosmic justice may be at play here. When I checked into the KOA campground in Billings, Montana, they assigned me slip 170. After I had spent an hour or so trying to back into my slot, I noticed that next to my Airstream door there was my own exclusive chain link dog pen of about 15 feet in every direction. It’s a high occupancy time of year in America’s campgrounds so I thought nothing of it. I threw the Triceratops into the pen in the middle of last night but it somehow burrowed under the fence and is now said to be terrorizing the KOA population. Note to self: leave in a hurry tomorrow morning.
But when I went out tonight to do some reading (James Boswell’s London Journal) in the cool of the evening before it got dark, I discovered that the two deck chairs and the fire pit were inside the fenced pen. Nevertheless I sat down in one of the chairs, but it occurred to me that anyone looking at me from the outside would assume either that I was feral or that someone had put me in timeout. It seemed ludicrous, even monstrous, to be forced to sit next to a fire pit as if I had been assigned to a minimum security prison.
So the dog crisis continues. I may have to go pick out a rescue dog at the pound in Spokane. People who could not name a single character in any of Steinbeck’s books, including the Pulitzer Prize winning Grapes of Wrath, and who have never read Travels with Charley, somehow know that Steinbeck traveled with a remarkable poodle at his side, and they think less of me when they discover that I am wandering America without the most important asset imaginable.
It’s a dog’s life.
Over the next few months, Clay is shadowing Steinbeck’s 10,000-mile trek around the USA (and making a few detours of his own). Clay’s expedition is a central part of LTA’s big initiative to explore the country and take the pulse of America as it approaches its 250th birthday. Be sure to follow Clay’s adventures here and on Facebook — and subscribe to our newsletter.