By the time you're reading this, I should be in Nashville, Tenn. That's if all has gone as planned, and if St. Christopher is looking out for me. At least, I hope it's Saint Christopher who's in charge of travel. Otherwise I've been wasting a lot of time praying to the wrong patron saint!
Yes, I've em-BARKED (heh, heh -- get it?) on my cross-country trip with my dog. Southern California or bust! If you've read my earlier musings on this adventure back in the spring ("Westward Beagle," May 6, 2011), you'll recall that my youngest son had chosen to go to college at USC -- and that his only concern about heading west was that he'd really miss his dog. Not one who likes to deny my sons ... anything, I said, "Don't worry, Robby, I'll drive your dog out to see you."