I was sad to leave AFF and I think Loren was, too. We walked around the pastoral property, taking in the sights and smells before I headed over to the office for breakfast.

“What’s your schedule like today?,” Stacey asked after I expressed my sadness.

“Nothing major. Just have to drive to Cooperstown,” I said. “About 200 miles.”

“Why don’t you stay for our training class at 1 p.m. then?,” Stacey said.

Yeah. This gave us time to get cleaned up, packed up, and head to town for lunch, as well as spend more time learning with Loren. We hopped in the truck and got ourselves a sandwich before class.

There were four other dogs in the training room, along with AFF staff and a married couple of scientists visiting from California. The husband, a geneticist, is working on research that proves a dog’s breed does not prove its inherent aggressiveness, which should go a long way in preventing or overturning breed specific legislation (BSL) that has banned pit bulls in places such as Kansas, Denver, and Ohio.

Loren took her place with Courtney, who brought her in the room last. She looked around with curiosity, just a slight bit of nervousness, for a few seconds. Soon, she was putty in Courtney’s clicking, treating hands, rolling around on the floor and barely noticing the other dogs around her.

"Just call me roly poly..."

Bernice watched Loren with a practiced eye. She began training pits after acquiring a six-month old from a shelter and being asked to leave obedience class because of her new dog’s breed. After eight years at AFF, Bernice has helped hundreds of pit bulls acquire the successful behaviors that gets them adopted.

“Loren’s a really good dog,” Bernice said. “She’s solid, comfortable, confident. For a dog that’s been in a shelter for two years, Loren’s really incredible. She’s home ready.”

"I think you're pretty special, too, Aunt Bernice."

I smiled like a proud mama…make that auntie.

Stacey had noticed something from across the room. Bear, a handsome brown male, was “flirting” with Loren, making eye contact, whining, and wanting an introduction. She suggested they go for a walk together.

"Who's that sexy redhead?"

Ashley and Stacey walked the dogs while I followed closely with a camera.

“We’ll just take it slow and see if there’s any interest on Loren’s part,” Stacey said.

Bear was raring to go, but Loren didn’t seem to notice him much. She was much more fixated on the goings on at the farm. Bear, however, was pretty firmly keen on Loren.

"Give it up, big boy."

“He so wants to sniff her butt right now,” Stacey said, making us all laugh.

Ashley held Loren with strength and ease as Bear made his approach. Loren looked at him with a furrowed brow, which was a slight sign of stress. They got within a couple inches of each other, but Loren wasn’t really having it. No aggression, just no interest, either.

There would be no butt sniffing today.

"So close and yet so far away."

One by one, we made our goodbyes. Pulling away from the farm, I smiled through my tears. We had made great friends. Another adventure awaited.

We drove to Cooperstown, where I had made camping reservations, in about four hours. The winding back roads gave me another opportunity to appreciate New York’s beauty, it’s fertile farmlands, the charming homes spaced amongst the acreage.

Since it was after 5 p.m., the park ranger had left. Instructions said we could go to the cabins and check in the next day, so off we went. The place was gorgeous - dense with trees, fresh air, rustic cabins. This would be a perfect resting place for a few days.

Unfortunately, there were no bathrooms. Or cell service. One maybe I could have lived with. Both were unacceptable. We hightailed it out of there and I frantically scanned Gidget for hotels in the area. Most of them were independent and I imagine, wouldn’t accept dogs.

Finally, Gidget came up with a Super 8 in Norwich, so we spent another hour driving to our new home. The hotel was located right off the highway, across from a dairy bar, and down the road from a charming little downtown area. This would do.

I stopped for a little carb comfort at Pasquales, an authentic pizzeria complete with brusque, yet sweet waitresses, talk of the Yankees, and accents I’ve only previously heard on “The Sopranos.” It was family run - the waitress called the wiry, tattooed gentleman tossing pizza “Pops.“ I loved it. The pasta with red sauce and sausage was delish, too. We drove to the dairy bar, got a soft serve, and called it a night.

The next day was fairly uneventful, so I could catch up on my writing and other tasks. Loren and I took a lunch break, ending up at Hot Diggity Dog a few miles down the road, where they gave her a free frank of her own. Nice people - rescuers with a Pomeranian from a hoarding case, five cats, several rabbits, and fish.

Niagara Falls was our next destination, some five hours away. We took our time getting there, taking in the small villages and towns along the countryside, where many cows resided and more than one operating tractor was spotted. For sustenance and motivation, we stopped at Dunkin Donuts for a large iced tea and donut holes. Not sure if America runs on Dunkin, but NY sure seems to. They are as ubiquitous as Starbucks in California.

The town of Niagara Falls was not as I expected. Instead of a natural wonder backdrop, it was more of a tacky, Las Vegas strip without the grand hotels look. Miles of motels, strip malls, and tourist shops. Even the entrance to the park was glitzy. Crowded, too. The parking lot attendant suggested we come back in the morning, which sounded like a much better plan to me.

For our nature fix, we stopped along the Water Fowl Viewing area overlooking the Niagara River and took a mile long walk. We saw just one duck, skimming across the water, but that was fine. The river itself was something to behold, as was the sky.

Niagara Falls River

After checking into our hotel, we headed 12 miles to Buffalo, where my Roadfood book mentioned a must-try hot dog joint named Ted’s. I was also on a quest for frozen custard at the behest of my Signal editor, Michele Buttelman, who insisted I try this delicacy before leaving the East Coast. Serendipitously, an Anderson’s was right across the street from Ted’s, which was hopping on a Saturday night.

Lines snaked around the tables, almost to the door. I could hear the sizzle of the grill and smell the tantalizing aroma. I ordered a chili cheese dog, onion rings, and a loganberry juice and took it to the table outside. A spicy homemade hot sauce added a kick to the dog and the onion rings were amazing, a tangled, crispy mass of fried goodness (or badness, depending on how you look at it).

Saturday night at Ted's


When in Buffalo...

The frozen custard at Anderson’s was a find too - creamy, silky, yet somehow later than traditional ice cream.



Icy cold yummers

We returned to our hotel. Tired from all the driving and annoyed at not getting to see Niagara Falls yet, I was a bit grumpy. That was when Loren decided to circle our hotel at least ten times on our nightly poop walk. She made all the motions and I knew it was that time of the evening (when you spend 24/7 with anyone, you get to learn their habits), so I was getting grumpier by the second.

“Damn it, will you just poop?” I asked her. “I’m sick of this.”

She just kept going round and round, sniffing, stopping, but no action.

Finally, I sat down on a curb, threw down the leash and started crying. I was exhausted. I missed my own dogs, whom Wayde had sent pictures of that morning. I also missed him, my friends, my mountain home. I was sick of the hotels, the checking in, the unloading and reloading, the driving, the inconvenience of it all, not knowing anyone. All of it.

Loren just looked at me, her front legs crossed, confused, her amber eyes blinking fast.

“Look at all I’ve done for you and you can’t even poop for me? Is that too much to ask?”

More blinking.

I took a deep breath and stopped crying. I had lost it. Poor Loren. She was such a good sport about everything and here I was yelling at her like a complete freak. It wasn’t her fault. She had the right to take her time and poop where she wanted.

She finally did. We went back to the room, a bit estranged. Loren stretched out on the mattress as I got ready for bed. I put my face close to hers and looked her in the eye.

“I’m sorry,” I told her. “I’m an ass sometimes. I appreciate your patience with me.”

She sighed and we snuggled up together. Never go to bed angry, right?

Wayde had told me that night that seeing Niagara Falls would change my attitude and it did. We got there early, around 9 a.m., always the hot ticket for tourist spots. There was a smattering of people, but nothing crazy like the day before.

You could hear the water before seeing the falls. The Niagara River below was seafoam blue, a rainbow perched in its mist. Around the bend, the falls pounded their way to the river below, creating several more rainbows.

 
The falls

"You've seen one natural wonder, you've seen them all."

I took a deep breath and watched in awe. Nothing like nature to put you in your right place.

The park itself was magnificent - acres of manicured lawns, smaller rapids and falls to admire, a bridge that led to the opposite side of the falls, closer to Canada, for viewing. We spent an hour checking out everything that allowed dogs (there were some exhibits, movies, and tours that didn’t).

Niagara Falls Park

Loren, of course, was much more enthralled with the squirrels that teased her throughout our walk than the falls. She wasn’t scared of the water or the sound it made, which made me really proud. The girl can pretty much hang in any situation.

"Forget the falls...was that a squirrel?"

On our way back, I noticed several dog owners enjoying the trails, too. An elderly man sat with his black cocker spaniel, enjoying the view and talking to the dog. I waved and he waved back, an unspoken camaraderie between us.