For Skid, car rides were not joyous occasions filled with nose banquets delivered by the wind.
After a few years he became somewhat more at ease, but still had to be coaxed into coming on board at the beginning of a trip. He got as close to the ground as he could, curled on the floor with his nose wedged between the seat and the door.
We considered it a triumph when we talked him into staying on the seat during very short trips down our rural road, but any speed over about 45 miles per hour sent him immediately to the floor, not to be moved.
He knew that the tick tick tick of the turn signal might mean the end of the ride was near, so he'd hop up on the seat to see where we were. If it was our driveway, he stayed on the seat until we let him out. Otherwise — back to the floor.
The only times he willingly got into the car were when he knew a multi-day visit was imminent (packed suitcases gave it away), after a bathroom break during long trips, and upon leaving the vets. All other times we had to demand that he hop in. >>
