The Real Story Behind That Lincoln Memorial Photo Episode One: Florida to Rhode Island, 2012

We're standing at the Lincoln Memorial. Three Airedales, matching new tags, freshly chipped, thoroughly unbothered by the crowd gathering around us. Strangers are asking to take photos with Halo, Cherry, and Grover like they're minor celebrities. I'm smiling for pictures I don't remember agreeing to be in. And I have no idea, until much later, that we're standing somewhere dogs aren't allowed.

That's later in the story. Let me back up.

By 2012 I'd traveled with my dogs plenty, but only in short bursts, two or three hours at most. This trip was different. I was moving from Florida to Rhode Island, which meant driving three Airedales up the entire East Coast.

I prepared like it was a military operation. Mapped the route, planned every stop, knew exactly how many hours we'd spend on the road each day. New tags for everyone, everyone freshly chipped. I even booked a day of daycare beforehand so the pack would be worn out for the first leg.

I figured the rest would take care of itself.

I was almost right.

All grass is not the same.

Our first stop was just outside Savannah, and it looked perfect. Open field, plenty of room to stretch their legs. What it actually was, was a field of burrs. We spent the next twenty minutes picking them out of beards while the dogs looked at us like we'd personally betrayed them. Then we got back in the car and kept going.

No one likes to pee in a crowd.

This is the trip I learned my pack has opinions about privacy. Each of them wanted their own moment, which meant three dogs times three stops each, nine walks a day, every single day. That's a math problem I hadn't planned for, and a story for another time.

Can you turn the channel, I hate your music.

The Airedales, it turns out, have strong feelings about the radio. The only station we could all agree on was The Bridge on Sirius XM. Anything else, First Wave included, and the whining started immediately. Not a soft whine. Operatic. Cherry in particular had a set of pipes that could carry across state lines. So The Bridge it was, the whole way to Rhode Island.

Somewhere in the middle of all this, we stopped in DC. I took the pack to the Washington Monument and then the Lincoln Memorial, mostly to stretch a long drive. What I didn't expect was how much of a hit they'd be. Tourists kept stopping us for photos, and for a few minutes we were the most popular thing on the National Mall. My best friend Hillary, who made the whole drive with me, is the one who caught this shot, since I was too busy posing for strangers.

Looking back, there wasn't another dog in sight the entire time. Just my three, strolling around like they owned the National Mall. There was also, as it turns out, a sign clearly stating dogs weren't allowed. I never saw it. Nobody stopped us. We just walked right past it like it didn't apply to us, which, in fairness, is very on brand.

That photo, the one at the Lincoln Memorial, is one I've used more than once since then. Now you know the real story behind it.

We made it to Rhode Island in one piece, with a few more stories along the way I'll save for another time. Fifty years and eleven dogs into this, I'm still learning that the plan only gets you so far. The rest is just paying attention, and laying your head down next to the ones who make it worth it.

-Kim Opdyke💗