Seven months ago I stopped borrowing a cardboard box from the vet. Here is what replaced it, and why it lives by the door.
Seven months, a dozen transport legs, and a lot of small dogs who needed to sit still for ninety miles. Here is what held up on the Sherpa Original Deluxe and what made me work.
A soft-sided carrier and a rigid plastic box do different jobs in a car. One fits behind a seat and lives on a shelf between trips. The other does not flex and wipes clean in a minute. Here is the honest split after seven months of transport legs.
A retired school bus dispatcher who drives one rescue transport leg a month explains what a soft-sided carrier actually does in a back seat.
Seven months ago I stopped borrowing a cardboard box from the vet. Here is what replaced it, and why it lives by the door.
A two-week, plain-vanilla routine for the dog that stiff-legs it at the sight of a carrier. No force, no long drives, no drama.
Seven months, about a dozen trips, and one 18-pound terrier who fills a carrier rated for 22. The sizing chart is still the thing I would change.
Nine months, one terrier mix, and a monthly rescue transport leg: what the Kurgo Tru-Fit Smart Harness does well and where it asks for patience.
One is a crash tested harness. The other is a strap with two clips. Nine months of transport legs later, here is where each one actually earns its place.
Nine months of clipping an eighteen pound terrier into the back seat of an Outback, and the ten things that actually changed.
A retired school bus dispatcher on the harness that stopped her terrier from wandering into the console on transport day.
The measuring, the fitting, and the seat belt connection, in the order I actually do them. Nine months of daily driving and one transport Saturday a month.
Nine months, nine transport Saturdays, and forty minutes on the kitchen floor the first time I fitted it. Here is the version of this harness review that includes the parts I did not enjoy.
Ten months, one transport leg a month, and a great deal of mud. What held up, what did not, and the three small irritations worth knowing before you order.
A flat cover drapes. A hammock hangs. Ten months of muddy paws, transport days and back seat passengers, and the difference comes down to two rows in a table.
A hammock cover is not glamorous. It is the thing that keeps a transport Saturday from turning into an upholstery job.
Two old bath towels, ninety miles of I-94, and the reason I finally covered the back seat.
A back seat hammock is the easy part. Measuring the seat, snugging the straps and clipping the dog in are what actually keep the upholstery clean.
Ten months on a cloth back seat, five rescue transport legs, one Wisconsin winter. What the listing gets right, and the two things it never mentions.
Eight months, two bowls, one glove box. A retired dispatcher on what a 12 ounce folding bowl actually does on a 90 mile rescue transport leg, and where it stops being enough.
One has been clipped to my dog's leash since March. The other I have only watched from six feet away across a truck stop parking lot. Here is which one I would put in the car first.
Eight months of transport legs, one margarine tub that finally failed, and the two bowls that replaced it.
Eight months, one rescue leg a month, and the two SLSON bowls that solved a problem I did not know I had.
A five step water routine for a long drive, from a volunteer who makes the same 90 mile run with a dog every month.
A plainspoken look at the two-pack travel bowls I keep in the Outback, including the 12-ounce capacity, the light-duty carabiner, and the days they are not enough.
Six months of monthly rescue transport legs, one Outback, and a crate that lives folded in the cargo area. What it does well, what the listing itself warns you about, and who should buy something else.
One stands open by itself. One packs down to nothing. I have used the first for six months and only watched the second, and here is the honest split.
Six months of folding it flat, opening it at rest stops, and handing dogs over in a truck stop lot on I-94.
A retired dispatcher who drives one rescue transport leg a month on the twenty minutes nobody talks about, and the crate she keeps folded in the back of the car for exactly that.
Five steps I do in the same order every second Saturday, in a truck stop parking lot, with the hatch up and the dog on a leash.
Six months of transport Saturdays, one small terrier, and a listing that argues with its own title.
Seven months, a dozen transport legs, and a lot of small dogs who needed to sit still for ninety miles. Here is what held up on the Sherpa Original Deluxe and what made me work.
Seven months, about a dozen trips, and one 18-pound terrier who fills a carrier rated for 22. The sizing chart is still the thing I would change.
Nine months, one terrier mix, and a monthly rescue transport leg: what the Kurgo Tru-Fit Smart Harness does well and where it asks for patience.
Nine months, nine transport Saturdays, and forty minutes on the kitchen floor the first time I fitted it. Here is the version of this harness review that includes the parts I did not enjoy.
Ten months, one transport leg a month, and a great deal of mud. What held up, what did not, and the three small irritations worth knowing before you order.
Ten months on a cloth back seat, five rescue transport legs, one Wisconsin winter. What the listing gets right, and the two things it never mentions.
Eight months, two bowls, one glove box. A retired dispatcher on what a 12 ounce folding bowl actually does on a 90 mile rescue transport leg, and where it stops being enough.
A plainspoken look at the two-pack travel bowls I keep in the Outback, including the 12-ounce capacity, the light-duty carabiner, and the days they are not enough.
Six months of monthly rescue transport legs, one Outback, and a crate that lives folded in the cargo area. What it does well, what the listing itself warns you about, and who should buy something else.
Six months of transport Saturdays, one small terrier, and a listing that argues with its own title.
