Ways Scout's patio behavior has gotten worse

And why I'm thrilled!

The first time I took Scout to a brewery, she lay quietly on her mat. She did not bark. She did not growl. She did not stand up to stretch or shift her weight or investigate the environment.

She also did not enjoy herself.

My cattle dog was quiet and reserved and “polite” because she was scared—scared to the point of shutting down. She took a few treats and gave me eye contact when I asked, but her body was stiff, tension in every muscle, and it was only lack of experience that made me think the outing was remotely successful. (I was so proud at the time, I remember. Today the old video clips make me cringe.)

In the years after that visit to Wisconsin Brewing Company, I worked hard to build not only Scout’s behavior but her comfort. Our opportunities grew when we moved to Florida in 2020: We lived in a very dog-friendly housing complex, next to a very dog-friendly outdoor mall, and the amiable weather allowed us to keep training well into the winter.

2021 and 2022 might have been our heydey. I already worked remotely—Scout and I regularly grabbed my laptop and a bag of treats (eventually we traded the overstuffed fanny pack of liver for a more modest handful plus a favorite toy) to go out on the town while Sean was in the office. We adventured plenty of places with him after work, too: small breweries, cheap pizza restaurants, a tiny park in the local arts district.

By the time we moved into the van, Scout’s patio skills were one of my proudest accomplishments. I assumed she’d only visit more coffee shops and bars and downtown centers with us once we hit the road. After all, the nature of our housing means she travels everywhere we do! But we slid the opposite way. Now that we have a temperature controlled home always within reach? It’s easier to leave our heeler behind—where she’ll happily nap on the bed or in a front cab chair—if we aren’t sure she’ll get something positive from an outing.

You might think the reason Scout’s patio behavior is “worse” is that she visits them less regularly, but that’s not what I mean. I think she’s more confident still.

I’m not actually in my dog’s head (however much I’ve wanted to be over the years) so I can’t be sure of the reasons, but I'd guess her growth has looked something like this: We built a strong foundation of settling in public. Sometimes things went wrong, but she was reasonably comfortable on average. Then we started traveling full time—which incidentally exposed her to a larger variety of stimuli from the safety of her familiar space—and opted out of situations we weren’t convinced would be productive. Net, the last two years have provided Scout with more positive experiences than ever. She usually likes where we take her… or she doesn’t come. (Of course this isn’t always the case—we’ve messed up plenty, environments have been surprising and startling and more than we bargained for—but we have a greater privilege than ever to scope situations out ahead of time and say “nope”.)

So nowadays? Scout’s default assumption, when she jumps out of the van, is that she’s going to have a good time. I’d never call her optimistic, exactly (what a world that would be) but she might be edging closer.

My dog’s patio behavior is “worse” because she wants to sniff more before lying down on her mat. She no longer clings to the security of her dog bed—she’d like to learn about the world around her. It’s “worse” because I rarely feel the need to give her an official place command, meaning she can explore within our table boundaries, and she’s happy to take me up on the offer to choose her own spot. Then choose a different one. And again.

Her patio behavior is “worse” because she’s bolder about begging for food and saying “I’m too hot” and requesting affection. She’s bolder about everything, really. She is less reactive, less nervous, and more willing to take up space.

I’m writing this at our favorite coffee shop in Cocoa Beach. At the moment Scout’s standing with her chin on my thigh, looking up, asking to do something fun (or for a piece of the bagel she hasn’t realized I already finished). A few minutes ago she was flopped on her side under my chair in the shade. Before that she was curled on her travel mat. Before that she was sniffing the nearby planters.

I used to take great pride that my dog would lie down in one place the whole time we spent on a patio. Today? I take great pride that she can be both socially responsible—polite and unobtrusive and cute and all those other good we’re-in-public things—while also taking agency over her own experience.

I love you forever and ever and ever, cattle dog. Watching you take on the world is capital-J Joy.